Little Altars Everywhere


Just when you seem to yourself
nothing but a flimsy web
of questions, you are given
the questions of others to hold
in the emptiness of your hands,
songbird eggs that can still hatch
if you keep them warm,
butterflies opening and closing themselves
in your cupped palms, trusting you not to injure
their scintillant fur, their dust.
You are given the questions of others
as if they were answers
to all you ask. Yes, perhaps
this gift is your answer.

– Denise Levertov, “A Gift”

Little Altars Everywhere

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Before listening to the way, do not fail to wash your ears.
Otherwise it will be impossible to listen clearly.
What is washing your ears?
Do not hold on to your view.
If you cling to it even a little bit,
you will lose your way.
What is similar to you but wrong, you regard as right.
What is different from you but right, you regard as wrong.
You begin with ideas of right and wrong.
But the way is not so.
Seeking answers with closed ears is
like trying to touch the ocean bottom with a pole.

–Ryokan, “Untitled”

1000 + 100 = Right Now


One photo plus 100 words tells you where I find myself right now. Inspired by Susannah. Wishing you encouragement, wherever you find yourself right now. xoS

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Taproot. Taproot. Taproot. Packing. Owning that travel is my new normal. Gray, rainy summer days. RC cars. Hammocks. Smoothies. The Great British Baking Show (love). Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (meh). Becoming Wise (so, so good). Missing the West. Edge Medicine. A gathering of swans. Wondering if it is all – always – transition? New ways of being. Living into the image. Hibiscus tea. Craving Beggar’s Bitters – best cocktail ever. Needing glasses. Resisting making an appointment with the eye doctor. Feeling the need to clean out everything. Clearing the way for the beginning of the beginning. Longing for fall. Forever, longing for fall.

Little Altars Everywhere

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Day ends, and before sleep
when the sky dies down, consider
your altered state: has this day
changed you? Are the corners
sharper or rounded off? Did you
live with death? Make decisions
that quieted? Find one clear word
that fit? At the sun’s midpoint
did you notice a pitch of absence,
bewilderment that invites
the possible? What did you learn
from things you dropped and picked up
and dropped again? Did you set a straw
parallel to the river, let the flow
carry you downstream?

– Jeanne Lohmann, “Questions Before Dark”