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The wood is slow to burn this morning, reluctant and stubborn. Leaning into the stove’s metal mouth, I draw deep breaths and exhale with force in a steady rhythm. This must be how God hovered over the still body formed from the earth, the slow, stubborn dust pressed...
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All of the things of fall are as beautiful in their dying as they were in their birth, as if it were a farewell party, a last hurrah, a riotous wake. May I also be beautiful in my surrender, fading from green to brilliant orange or red, and may the moment of my...
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My heart is like the half-moon peaking out of the mid-day blue sky. There is more, always more, hidden; more than I can know or see. Lord, teach me to tend, carefully, the shadow places where deep roots dwell. Teach me to love, tenderly, the cool darkness, to prize it...
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Thirty More Years, by Wendell Berry When I was a young man, grown up at last, how large I seemed to myself! I was a tree, tall already, and what I had not, yet reached, I would yet grow to reach. Now, thirty more years added on, I have reached much ...
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Two prisoners whose cells adjoin communicate with each other by knocking on the wall. The wall is the thing which separates them but is also their means of communication. It is the same with us and God. Every separation is a link. Simone Weil I...
