The picture below shows an onion seed, an asparagus seed, and a penny. You can see that the seeds are quite small. Small is where I began...

“La vie est un sommeil, l'amour en est le rêve.” Daniel sat at one of the small bright blue tables that adorned the sunny terrace of La Fontaine de Belleville, 31-33 Rue Juliette Dodu, Paris. Sparrows flitted under the tables scouring for crumbs while Alpine Swifts darted about, screeching noisily but never landing. Swifts spend most of their lives in the air. They can fly for months without having to land, living on insects snatched in flight and swopping down to drink on th

“Thirty-six hours after she died, they brought her into the room. Leaning over the body, Anne felt the area right over the heart and it...

I want to be invisible. Ronnie wants to be invisible. We found a way. Ronnie and I are scheduled to give a talk in front of a large...

“To find your way, you must become lost. Generously so.” - Bayo Akomolafe Dennis Chan is angry with me. Rightfully so. He won’t openly express it, but I can feel it. I was supposed to meet him at 8:30 this morning at our Bell Labs office in Holmdel, New Jersey to test the software changes I made to the protocol handler we are working on. I am finally on my way at 10:05. I haven’t called him. As a result of bad planning, or more likely because l drank up every bit of alcohol

"One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness visible.” – Carl Jung My friend Tai Zhou is in...

“In charity there can be no excess and neither man nor angels can come to any danger by it.” – Sir Francis Bacon Marcus has a profound...

“The first forty years of life give us the text; the next thirty supply the commentary on it.” – Arthur Schopenhauer I am by myself but not alone. They are near me, always. It's another strikingly beautiful California morning and I have six hours before my flight home. Before returning, I want to say goodbye to the Pacific Ocean. Yes, I talk to water. I speak to the spirit within the forms of trees, plants, animals, and rocks. I sometimes fail to notice, not because there is

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” – Henry Miller I am the Mayor of Les Combes! Well, I was for a...

I don’t want your help. Leave me alone. I’m fine. “ The inability to receive support from others is a trauma response .” Make a picture in your head; a faded olive-green WWII duffel bag. The string draw is pulled tight but some light still gets in. How do I know there is light getting in? I am in this bag. I am 5 years old. My mom has put me in this duffel bag and set it on the front porch for the ‘Ragman’ to pick up. She has determined that I have done something that warrant

On Tuesday, May 3rd, I returned from California after attending the wedding of Ashley and Michael. Ashley is the daughter of my dear...

Everything in the world is shaking. I keep a steady hand on my trowel. This week, I am planting ramps in the woods. This same week,...

“Let me disclose the gifts reserved for age To set a crown upon your lifetime's effort. First, the cold friction of expiring sense...

It’s Christmas Eve. I am 12 Years old. I have been a good boy this year. I am kneeling on the iron heating register and praying for my...

The world is not made of atoms, it is made of stories. There are stories we have heard or read, stories we tell ourselves, and stories we live. Some are the choicest of relics and others are consigned to the flames. I have been telling myself a story about how to live for quite a while. It’s time to revisit the story line to see if I may be missing something. That is why I am traveling to the village of Introd, in the Aosta Valley of Italy. To live up to our promises we must

I don’t want to do this anymore. I am so done with this. How did I ever get to think this is what I was meant to do with my life? I am selling my home, property, and what possessions I can shed for a price. The rest I will give away. I will find a home for the bees and animals. I first called them “my” bees and animals, but they were never really mine. As for prayer and meditation, I am undecided. They don't seem to do anything anymore. I do not want to talk about this. I am

Five years have passed since Megan died. On the anniversary of her death, I weeded and mulched the trees in the back orchard as a way of “dealing” with the sadness. Was that the best option? It was the option I chose as I simply do not know how to “best” deal with sadness. On my way back to the orchard, I sat on the blue bench at “Megan’s Spot” by the pond and cried hard. The kind of crying that doesn’t stop on command. The kind of crying that leaves you emptied. It helped, b

Kevin wears a red bandana around his forehead. He sprinkles it with holy water. He wears it all the time, even while sleeping. Kevin is certain that he will go mad if he takes it off. He is not kidding; he will hurt you if you try to remove it or touch it. I lost touch with Kevin years ago. I won’t forget him. How can you forget a tall, lanky fellow who wears big, heavy, black shoes and shuffles like Lurch from the Munsters and has a red bandana tied around his forehead? Kevi

Jerry handed me the shotgun. I had never killed anything before. Jerry stood off to the side with his two brothers, Ken and Steve. These country boys, sons of a soybean farmer, were going to learn this city kid, who was about to become their brother-in-law, a few things. I pointed the gun at the mulberry tree filled with fifty or so starlings. I pulled the trigger and as I tumbled over backwards, eight starlings fell dead to the ground. The laughter of my future in-laws could

“I don't like either the word [hike] or the thing. People ought to saunter in the mountains - not 'hike!' Do you know the origin of that word saunter? It's a beautiful word. Away back in the Middle Ages people used to go on pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and when people in the villages through which they passed asked where they were going, they would reply, 'A la sainte terre', 'To the Holy Land.' And so, they became known as sainte-terre-ers or saunterers. Now these mountains