on rolling to meet the sun

The sun rises. What a sentence: I love the cadence and the notion and yet, I’m struck this morning by its untruth, for the sun does not rise. Earth, with …

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on traces geological

Hope is like a candle that, even when no longer burning, leaves a slight touch of warmth in the room. We see the flame even when it is gone, and …

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on being anyway

At birth, we’re set loose in our dreams and visions and doings, bringing the world into being alongside myriad other beings and anew every day, whether we know it or …

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on the stillness in chaos

In the quiet moments of hurry-burly days—those flashes of time that bend time itself but do not stop its journey—there is a reckoning beneath the hurries, beneath the burlies, beneath …

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on mothers not of us

She is gone, but I remember this little white hen who mothered me and anyone else who crossed her paths. Part affection, part control, part good neighbor, part good scold, …

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on a bee and being

For long minutes one afternoon recently, I watched this tiny bee, writhing in some untold agony. The farm girl part of me said, “You should kill it, end its suffering, …