Archive | Spirit Matters

Of Art and Nature and You and Me

I am sitting on the expanse of my friend’s yellowed, crackly Hamptons lawn. It is a meadow, really, and its overripeness is not unappealing. It is comforting, a scent and sign of a summer well-lived. As my own summer was not, I cannot help admiring such wear and tear.

And yet: I am here now. This friend, who has worked for everything she has, listened to me say, with more than a little self-pity, that I needed a break but could not afford one. Then, rather than murmur the platitudes most offer when confronted with others’ hardships, she did something practical and immensely kind. (The most immense kindnesses are always of a practical nature, I find.) She took a key off her ring and handed it to me. “I will be out of town for the next few weeks,” she said. “Stay in my house while I am gone.” Continue Reading →

The End of Summer

An agitation of the air,
A perturbation of the light
Admonished me the unloved year
Would turn on its hinge that night.

I stood in the disenchanted field
Amid the stubble and the stones,
Amazed, while a small worm lisped to me
The song of my marrow-bones.

Blue poured into summer blue,
A hawk broke from his cloudless tower,
The roof of the silo blazed, and I knew
That part of my life was over.
–Stanley Kunitz

A Dog, a Descent, a Dream

I always write down my dreams–they’re signposts, they’re gifts, they’re the straight talk I can’t hear during the day, they’re the littlest part of me asking for help, they’re the biggest part describing more than I can consciously conceive. By writing down my dreams I am giving all this a voice, and charting a progression that is as clear if not as linear as the growth pencilled on a door jamb.

Last night I had a dream that yanked me so hard that I am sharing it here. It is silly and it is strong, as all the best dreams are. Some find sharing dreams to be an indulgence. I consider it an unveiling of the underbelly, unfamiliar and soft–an act of trust, really. I don’t do it often.

Here is the dream. Continue Reading →

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy