“. . . and I was persuaded, and remain confirmed, that the voice of honest indignation is the voice of God.” –William Blake anger management when it comes to indignation I’ve mostly seen the righteous kind –moral outrage–then today I heard a new phrase, at least to me, though Blake said it long ago ….
Lila she got a special walk around the green this morning she didn’t know why anymore than she understood that breakfast never came just a car ride to her least favorite parking lot where I handed her over to a kind tech who spoke sweetly and led her away after I told her it would…
sentenced picture yourself as a word in a sentence that runs on for miles one that falls between before and after picture the moment when the reader spoke you into being in a phrase of relationship your whole life a word made flesh picture yourself as a word among words in the library of love…
worth saying I read the screen or the page I listen to the other ones talking as though everyone is waiting for what I will have to say as if what matters is how I respond why would that be true? social media creates the illusion that life is a series of little soap boxes…
spiritual practice start with a goal make a promise to show up then miss the next day start with failure then deal with grace you will not write everyday this lent easter will come good friday too the season does not ride on you faithfulness and perfection are not the same saints miss the mark…
travelogue the depth of the darkness meant we had our choice of guides that’s what it means to stargaze to lose yourself in the night and then dash into the dark at the drop of a meteor but you can only go so far listening to someone whistle when you wish upon a star the…
postpartum Mary rose before sunrise; the baby was still sleeping, as were Joseph and most of the animals, except for one cow who looked a little sheepish. The shepherds were long gone. In their excitement, they had not cleaned up well after themselves. The magi were resting somewhere, waiting to be guided by darkness. But…
I think it was about fifteen years ago, maybe more, that Ginger asked me to write a story for our Christmas Eve service at North Community Church in Marshfield, Massachusetts. That story, A Faraway Christmas, has shown up off and on since–several times on this blog. This year, because of COVID and because I am…
star treatment we drove down to the water last night to see the suggestion of a star made by two planets closer than they have been in eight hundred years close enough to imagine a star worth following a beautiful night on the shoreline snow on the rocks all of us spread out staring in…
slouching towards bethlehem yeats put pen to page last century in the wake of a world war and as his wife was recovering from the pandemic before this one we’ve since learned how to keep the world at war without end to live in sustainable exhaustion and act as though we’re alive easier to replace…