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Do Good Anyway: Wisdom from Mother Teresa People are often unreasonable,illogical and self-centered.Forgive them anyway. The good you do today,people will often forget tomorrow.Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have,and it may never be enough.Give your best...
Today’s healing offering for all of our friends near & far… from the beautiful mind of Czeslaw Milosz; translated by Robert Hass & Milosz (and recommended by Cassidy) Czeslaw Milosz (1911-2004) Not soon, as late as the approach of my ninetieth year, I felt a...
I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walkdown a crowded aisle, people pull in their legsto let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you”when someone sneezes, a leftoverfrom the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying.And sometimes, when you spill...
We first saw it on a night pitch as a dungeon, the world’s midnight. It appeared the only brightness in the universe, a bird of pure light soaring, a crystal ship sailing the dark deluge, a dazzling denizen of heaven leaping the vast vault towards our long lost world....
Julia Darling (1956-2005) I did not imagine being bald at forty four. I didn’t have a plan. Perhaps a scar or two from growing old, hot flushes. I’d sit fluttering a fan. But I am bald, and hardly ever walk by day, I’m the invalid of these rooms, stirring soups, awake...
From Cedi la Strada Agli Alberi Franco Arminio (b. 1960) Translated by Sarah Lambert-Porter We need farmers, poets, people who know how to make bread, who love trees and recognize the wind. More than a year of growth, it would take a year of attention. Attention to...
“Sorrow Is Not My Name” Ross Gay (b. 1974) — after Gwendolyn Brooks No matter the pull toward brink. No matter the florid, deep sleep awaits. There is a time for everything. Look, just this morning a vulture nodded his red, grizzled head at me, and I looked at him,...
“Remember Barbara,” begins a wonderful poem by Jacques Prevert about love and war: the Second World War and the destruction of the French port, Brest; the love of Barbara and the desolate loss of that love. It reminded me of my friend, Barbara, and the Alzheimer's...
My heart can take on any form: A meadow for gazelles, A cloister for monks, For the idols, sacred ground, Ka'ba for the circling pilgrim, The tables of the Torah, The scrolls of the Quran. My creed is Love; Wherever its caravan turns along the way, That is my belief,...
To grow old is to lose everything. Aging, everybody knows it. Even when we are young, we glimpse it sometimes, and nod our heads when a grandfather dies. Then we row for years on the midsummer pond, ignorant and content. But a marriage, that began without harm, scatters into debris on the shore, and a […]