Well…the mud has settled, and the right action has arisen. I’m taking the arctic plunge and moving to New York. No, not that New York. I can’t make it there. I’m a wee bit claustrophobic for the Big Apple. I know it’s still the Mecca for print writers, and I will spend a fair amount […]
The work goes on. All the fellow grievers have returned home, and here I am in this suddenly empty place. I have been alone most of my adult life –both my profession and vocation call for it, and my temperament eagerly answers– but it’s strange how different that quality feels when it comes to the […]
Let’s get this straight, world. I don’t write for you. I don’t write for myself, maybe not for anyone alive right now. We’re already dead. I write for our grandchildren, that they may have something to believe, something that might help them find the way. We must leave them ideas that haven’t been idolized and […]
I’ve been feeling self-conscious about the lack of gender balance in The Peasant and the King. In sharp contrast to Birding in the Face of Terror, which has several female characters playing prominent and heroic roles, and where the male narrators receive lessons of a feminine relational spirituality of interbeing along with the heady crown chakra […]
I love language in the same way that an arsonist loves fire. It is his mode of expression, but not his motivation. He doesn’t use it for its own sake —he wants to see something burn.
There are times when writing feels like an artisanal endeavor and the “wordsmith” moniker feels appropriate. But far more often, and increasingly so, I can only call it “found art.” The work feels much less like the crafting of something new, and much more like unearthing something old that was left for us to discover […]