Deep time

deep time

Sometimes I fret about yesterdayor worry about tomorrow.Then I noticethe granite cliffbehind my house.

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Never feel sadabout a wilting flower.Every petalcontains the ideaof another bloom.

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The starflower


The starflower blooms in the forest.You might walk on by—but if you do,you’ll never know love is everywhere,even in the darkest of places.

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When the coreopsis is thirsty it wilts.When the rain comes, it thrives.This is the most sane thing I’ve seen all week.

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SometimesI thinkjoyis in themomentswe forgetwe havea tomorrow.

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A good mosquito day

a good mosquito day

I know it’s a good daywhen the air is stilland I allow a mosquitoto whine by my earand I say—it’s OK,you need to eat,even if you’re diningon my blood. I want more of those days.

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Dandelion seedslike angelsin the sun. We might notalways see itbut the truth isevery seedand every leafpossesses thisheavenly glow.

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Negative space

negative space

We’re told to ignore the emptypart, to step away from the voidand mind the gap. So instead webusy our heads with the full partand are glad our lives are complete.But what if the empty part isthe important part and the fullpart is merely a distractionfrom what is truly real?

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May I

May I

May I listen to the world,may I have patience in the world,may I trust in the world,may I relax into the truth of stillness.

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On windy days

on windy days

On windy days, if we standand listen, we hear the treestalk with the breeze. It’s likethey were waiting for natureto ask them what they know.

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Love’s face

love's face

Love shows its face when you least expect.Such as when you find a beetle on its back,legs striving to reach the home of soil,and you gently nudge it right-side up.No chocolates, no flowers. Just striving in the dirtand knowing what being is.

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What ifwe saw the worldthrough the eyes of the world,if we saw what’s best for the worldis best for us,if we allowed ourselvesto be smaller, to be nobody,to be a walk-on partin the world’s lovely play?

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When I dieI hope they makea statue of meso I can wait in stillnessand see all the thingsI never sawbecause I was too wrapped upin my own self-ness.

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Down deep in the dirt,the soil browning my palmsand filling my nails. I might decide to eat lunchwithout washing my handsso as to consume the universe.

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More and more

more and more

Will I love this worldmore and more?More mud, more stone,more tree, more flower?Will my love flourishas the world growsstrong and beautiful?

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I lie downon the grassand look up. The pine andthe mapleknit the world whole.

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When the rain stops and the sunshines I step outside and countthe sprouting seeds amid therotting leaves—and fall in love.

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All I want is what I got. The warm smellof yesterday’s grassThe birds singing.A fly. All I got is what I want.

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The spruce

the spruce

Last year something, perhapsa deer or a beaver, cut a ringin the bark of the spruceand now the tree is dead. Its once-green needles glowbronze in the evening sun. I will probably cut it down—I’m not ready to seesuch beauty in death.

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There is no musicmore pure, no melodymore delightful thanthe first song of the wrenthat returns hometo the forest on thisnew day of spring.

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Can we?

can we?

Can we consider it an honourwhen the phoebe choosesto build a nest under our deck?Can we be a place of safetyand of love? Can we live togetherin this land called home,under the same April sun? Can we be good?

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Often it’s enough to watchthe wind-waved boughsand see life in every cell.

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This old house

this old house

In this old housethe floors slope gentlytowards the middlebecause it knowsa true home is foundin the deep inside.

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Life lessons

life lessons

The thing about growing upis one day you realizeyou knew everything importantwhen you were five.

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In these times when I wantto fix the world of our uncertainty,I look down and notice the seedwhich sprouts and joyfully says:I cannot believe my luck!

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Pale green lichen

pale green lichen

Fell onto the snow a piece ofpale green lichen, nature’s proofone thing needs another. I took it home to remind meI’m never truly alone.

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Blade of grass

blade of grass

When fear swells inside,look down and seespring’s first blade of grass,defiantly, lovingly green.

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Big love

big love

Wait long enough,watch hard enough,lose your self,find another self—in the wholeloveness of it all.

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Three black seeds in an open pod.Waiting for water and warmthand luck.

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Home and family

home and family

One day we will extendour family beyond theThanksgiving table andour home beyond ourlocked front door.Until then, we fight alonein this brutal, beautiful world.

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What if everything is heldin the silent spruceand the wren that arrivesfrom the east?

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Morning story

morning story

On this sleepy morning of nothingnesswhen I count every needle on the hemlock tree,a woodpecker lands in its alivenessand I wake up.

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What, asked Bird, if we are simply mirrorsreflecting the wholeness of the world?

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Blind to paradise

blind to paradise

How easy it is to lowerour minds and fail to noticethe sun through the trees. Blind to paradise, we seekit in places away from hereand far from now. And so we wonderwhy happiness slipsthrough our grasping hands. Then one day we wake upand laugh at how readilywe missed what’s here.

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I like to step outinto the dark of nightwhere only the moonis watching.

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It just works

it just works

One day you’ll learn, said Bird,the world works perfectly just as it is.All you need do is play your part.

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I will plant a plum treeby the dusty gravel patchand hope one dayto bake a delicious pieof gratitude.

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Can never reach

can never reach

It takes stillness and trustto remember our greatesttruth is buried deep inside uswhere the noise of the worldcan never reach.

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The seeds I sowedin little black potsunder chicken wireneed ice and snowto germinatewhich is why I trustspring will cometo every one of useven when it seemsour winter will never end.

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Circle of life

circle of life

Don’t be afraid of the wolvesthat howl over the lakefor they eat the deerthat eat your Hostas.

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The dead are smiling

the dead are smiling

There’s a cemetery in Pariswhere they don’t cut the grass,vines twist free and flowerssway over mossy stones.I like to think the dead are smilingwith so much life around them.

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