The stars are like letters that inscribe themselves at every moment in the sky. Everything in the world is full of signs. All events are coordinated. All things depend on each other; as has been said: “Everything breathes together.” – Plotinus
While our art cannot, as we wish it could save us from wars, privation, envy, greed, old age, or death, it can revitalize us amidst it all. Writing is survival. Not to write, for many of us, is to die. I have learned, on my journeys, that if I let a day go by without writing, I grow uneasy. Two… Read more »
The self is made of consciousness and mind. It is made of life and vision. It is made of the earth and the waters. It is made of air and space. It is made of light and darkness. It is made of desire and peace. It is made of anger and love. It is made of virtue and vice. It… Read more »
When we live superficially, when we are always outside ourselves, never quite “with” ourselves, always divided and pulled in many directions, we find ourselves doing many things that we do not really want to do, saying things we do not really mean, needing things we do not really need, exhausting ourselves for what we secretly realize to be worthless and… Read more »
What if this road, that has no held surprises these many years, decided not to go home after all; what if it could turn left or right with no more ado than a kite-tail? What if its tarry skin were like a long, supple bolt of cloth, that is shaken and rolled out, and takes a new shape from the… Read more »