I’ve moved today through shades of grief. It came like an atmospheric shift, a low moon, and left me feeling hopeless, helpless. As though nothing in the world is possible except retreat. Retreat to sleep, to sadness, to grief. It’s a sense that comes when the hurt of life seems larger, ultimately, than the good; …
The light, now, is white. White on the highway, alabaster clouds, bone colored sky. Sun is nothing if not a seared hole in the atmosphere. On the corn, the light pools. It looks like light flashing on currents of water. The fields are my ocean, my sea, my distance: on the hottest days, the humid …
Bliss and terror are cousins, no further. One lives in a tar papered shack where the rain comes in and the furniture ripples with fleas, the other closer to the horizon. In distance, none the less present. Both, see, are born in vertigo and dizziness. Both slippery. Both a momentary loss of gravity. Both swirl …
It is true that life will hurt us. But it only becomes suffering by what we ourselves do. We simply don’t know how to live very well. More often than not we do the wrong things. More often than not, we do the wrong things because we think and we feel the wrong things. We …
