Paul Christensen: The Hinge of Summer’s Door
The vernal equinox came and went, like a cat creeping over the newly sprouted heads of anonymous weeds. You hardly knew, unless you were listening to NPR, that such an … Continue reading
Paul Christensen: Portrait of the Artist | James Dickey
He liked one phrase especially, “every word is a sunken Atlantis.” It said a lot about the way poetry functioned –every word in lyric was attached to a root mass of meanings, associations, feelings.
Doug Anderson: Ukraine, Hypocrisy, and That Thing With Feathers
Because of my angry response to the Russian invasion of Ukraine, I have been accused of hypocrisy. How can I criticize Russia, I am asked, after all the damage my … Continue reading
Jane Braxton Little: Whiplashed
Hotter days and hotter nights have corkscrewed our weather patterns into spiraling extremes, leaving entire regions around the world jerked from the hottest temperatures they’ve known to the coldest, from devastating fires to disastrous floods. This is uncharted territory and, scientists say, an all-too-grim preview of the future we’re creating for ourselves.
Tom Engelhardt: Cold War II or World War III?
Given our world, we should all probably be in the streets now. I mean, here we are heading into Cold War II, while facing the possibility of World War III on a planet that, thanks to the way we live and produce energy, is heading for hell.
Ruth King: A Journey From Rage to Mindfulness
An approach to examining systems, navigating emotional distress, and increasing social harmony.
Paul Christensen: The Snow It Snoweth Every Day
I’m not complaining too loudly. The Ukrainians are out there on the hills waiting to get into Poland, and the snow is pelting their thin coats and caps and making the kids squirm up against their moms.
Doug Anderson: Not a Buddhist Buddhist
I’ve been doing a Buddhist practice now for some years. I’m not a Buddhist. I’m not “enlightened” nor do I see myself as superior to anyone else. I would never … Continue reading
Tom Engelhardt: My Life with Maus
Or How I Was Banned (Even If in a Second-Hand Way) by a Trumpian World
Belle Chesler: Crisis in the Schools
A Return to a Normal That Was Never Good Enough
Paul Christensen: The Rhymes of Nature
Old snow. It’s like the linens piled up in a corner of a thrift shop, the kind passed down from grandmother to mother and then to a daughter who regarded … Continue reading
Paul Christensen: While Boston Sleeps
The day proceeded to turn over heavily, with the sun appearing to be bolted to a chink of sky between morose gray clouds. Poor Boston, poor humble Providence, all those rivets of history to our genesis as a nation graying in the ancient countryside.
Paul Christensen: In the Icy Womb of Winter
My wife noted this morning that the temperature gauge outside our kitchen widow read minus 9 degrees. The windows in the bedroom were frosted over with a thick rime, so … Continue reading
Fred Everett Maus: White Light 2020
I throw some seeds onto the snow and the dark-eyed juncos are here, very busy.
