If you move soft enough through the wind or woods, they say the sun will make a space for you. Some of your regrets might soften. I move terribly. I crush twigs and spiders but the horses say nothing of it; they let me pet their long manes. I hop on and we walk out […]
A Friday door.
I hope you find a gateway leading to a place where you can rest and refresh.
Door of the day… (Pinterest)
And silence, like darkness,
can be kind; it, too, is a language.
Hanif Kureishi, Intimacy (Scribner, 1999)
“There’s something about the night,” Mr. Keenan said, reflecting on his boss’s use of the time.
“It’s smaller. It lets you think.”
“Each of us leaves evidence on the earth…” – an important time to remember this. This moment in history is rich with possibilities! (thank you, David Kanigan)
When an animal, a rabbit, say, beds down in a protecting fencerow, the weight and warmth of his curled body leaves a mirroring mark upon the ground. The grasses often appear to have been woven into a birdlike nest, and perhaps were indeed caught and pulled around by the delicate claws as he turned in a circle before subsiding into rest. This soft bowl in the grasses, this body-formed evidence of hare, has a name, an obsolete but beautiful word: meuse. (Enticingly close to Muse, daughter of Memory, and source of inspiration.) Each of us leaves evidence on the earth that in various ways bears our form.