Above the slopes of the eastern mountain, the moon rises; it is nearing its seven-day size, waxing to half light, half darkness. The light of the sun as it sets strikes the dusty surface and, without atmosphere to impede, reflects back to our earth, in a delicate choreography which changes each minute and each day. …
The heart is torn by wind. When the heart-wind rises, true words are taken and replaced with falsehoods. That is the way of the wind. It is harder for the one afflicted, even, than it is for those he or she accosts: the heart is torn by wind, and the words and deeds which proceed …
I took some time to gear myself up a bit, and swam out to the lava point at White Rock Beach. I had been practicing snorkeling in the shallows — never having been a water person, further and deeper can bring me closer to the edge of comfort, and unfamiliarity with the techniques and the …
Some two thousand five hundred miles from the coast of California, a "hot spot" in the floor of the Pacific ocean has jetted matter from the heart of earth toward the sky. It passes through cooling waters, and becomes a cone that, over the millennia, breaks the waves and rises thousands of feet above the …
"I've never considered myself a spiritual person, but the first time I stopped the boat above a singing male, and dropped the hydrophone in the water…" Then there is a pause for words, which are not available. This is the well from which the poets draw water, the place beyond words, where words alone are …
A winter storm has covered our earth with snow, like the sands of a beach, but deposited by waves of wind; now the air temperature rises and sleet makes a slick glaze overall; now the sun is left behind as we spin toward the east, — whatever East is: we spin in the direction of …
There was a time when I was young, I must have been 3 or 4 years old, when my parents would take us to the inland sea. We lived in Michigan, on the Upper Peninsula, a short detour north, as it happened, in the long run of our lives; we lived in a rambler whose …
…atrás dos corpos e das mentes que nós vestimos, para ter algo tangível que podemos tocar… We spend so much time tied up within our thoughts and our bodies, we think This is It, I am here to avoid as much discomfort as I can, here to do what this skin tells me to do, …
The beauty of other languages is that you can see… beyond the walls your own grammar has constructed. The mind finds easy passage in some avenues, where in English, say, or German or some other tongue, it had been constricted. Why consider the Earth an anarchy, a Babel? Were it not for the incomprehensible complexity …
A word from the wind at the window pane the winter’s come to stay awhile the heart longs for heaven the heart looks for sun but this song is sung alone That’s all right there’s a sad kind of sweetness in a song or a sweet kind of sadness that carries you along from the …
Além do tecido da noite, meus queridos, brilha a luz. Sei, pois a noite está furada que nem com agulha, e as faíscas azuladas que vejo… ah será que são únicos estes Sols, desconectados um do outro? Que nada, atrás daquele tecido escuro persiste a verdadeira Luz… bem como, atrás dos corpos e as mentes …
I appreciate all the more how cultivating the habit of choosing Light instead of confusion changes not only my inner world, but paints the external as well. Early morning yoga feels to me as though I myself, infinitesimal against the backdrop of planets and galaxies, and infinite tracts of empty space, am the agent of …