It was his fourth fourth death. Not that he was counting. But he thought about it later. ‘Keep yourself in the room,’ some oracle of wise practice — was it the Zen Hospice Project? — had said. How did you do that?
Tag Archives: Essays
February 19, 2013
January 19, 2013
Comments Off on Second thoughts on a second term
So, I am headed to D.C. tomorrow to witness for the second time the swearing in of a man I am still very glad is our president. A slideshow of his first inauguration on the occasion of Obama’s second.
January 1, 2013
I think if I did not have the woods to get off to I might be a madman. I know that sounds an exaggeration. But there comes a time when nothing else will do and if nothing else would do, could I do without?
October 31, 2012
Writers need deadlines. Writers need motivation. Writers need a sharp kick in the keister to get up from the sofa where you’ve been hypnotized by a “Big Bang Theory” marathon. Hence, the need for ‘Write Like a Son of a Bitch Month’ Join today.
August 26, 2012
Friends, frenemies, followers: What happens when you announce you are taking a Facebook Fast? A lively exchange on the politics, both personal and national, of turning off Facebook for awhile.
August 18, 2012
Comments Off on Thinking About the Future While Pondering the Past
Yet another article on the Next New Thing in Web Publishing sends me fleeing a century into the past, in search of some verities on a southern Italian hillside.
July 20, 2012
Comments Off on In the Hills of Joseph, Part 5: Notes from the Empty Quarter
Leaving the Oregonian Rivendell of the Fishtrap writers workshop experience, a vast wasteland presents itself, full of cattle drives out of the 19th century, bearded wanderers on bicycle and the dry tang of the Empty Quarter.
July 18, 2012
A session with writer Luis Alberto Urea delivers live-action magic realism as deer be chillin’ on the Fishtrap lawn and the chortling stream invites you to sit down and write in Joseph, Oregon.
July 15, 2012
Comments Off on In the Hills of Joseph, Part 1: The Windswept Soul
So, since my friends will ask, and family, too, what was it like, I fire up the MacBook Pro and sit down with a one-third glass of dark-red wine and set to put some words upon the screen. | A pictorial essay from the Zumwalt Prairie, Joseph, Oregon.
April 27, 2012
Comments Off on Notes on trying to be a confessional writer
I have never counted myself among the cadre of brave or bold writers writers or singer-songwriters when it comes to personal revelation under my own name.
January 17, 2012
All I want to do is sit in the angled sun that pierces through the trees. I want to write something about today’s lunch at the monastery, which was personal in more ways than one.
January 7, 2012
Comments Off on The Future of this Wild Place is Up For Grabs
“The future of this wild place, and indeed of this wild state, is up for grabs. Hope still exists for this bioregion. Not the distant hope of the future, but hope in the moment, hope now …”
November 27, 2011
Comments Off on Monastery Nights: Just Breathe It
I hear a harp playing. A lovely harp-tastic chord strummed over and over again. Have I died in the night? Is there indeed an angelic host, a Top 40 Angelic Harp Band, which greets you at the gates of Heaven?
November 8, 2011
There’s nothing special about this tale of a parent with Alzheimer’s except that, being a writer, I have the chance to write about my mother dying. A thousand other families reading this are going through the same anguished motions.
August 17, 2011
The insidious addictive distraction of always checking your email, updating your status, seeking to be ‘Liked’ and not getting around to your novel.
May 30, 2011
Attract young people to West Virginia? Sure, says today’s Blogalachia commentary, but what kind? “Get the most hard-core world-changers we can. No one needs self-absorbed “what’s in it for me” types right now …”
May 13, 2011
“My tic used to infuriate my old boyfriend. The first time he hurt me was, perhaps not coincidentally, the first time my hand shook this way.”
May 11, 2011
“As we awoke on the morning of November 5, 1985, none of us could imagine the changes that were being wrought upon our world …”