My dreams were full of poetry and strange wisdom this year. Lines would appear from the landscape, like “the water that baskets me full,” or “chasing questions in a manner of patience is the same as chasing the journey.” My dreams also foretold death. … More In Brief, 2020: Child Again
Waves of distraction. Eye contact avoidance? Why does consciousness require/benefit from ritual? Does nature (beyond us) engage in ritual?
“I just want people to remember that we are nature…to contemplate: when do we become the tea?” … More From the Journal: Matters of Being
My palms erupt with sweat. THAT FAST PATRICK. That fast you could have died. I would have fallen over 100 feet and detonated on the jagged rocks next to Corey. Stunned, I finish what I was originally supposed to do, something that is so second-nature, something that I have done thousands of times and is so stupidly mundane. I do it all with shaky hands, and finally rap off the route. … More Toe the Edge
The following is an account of a series of dreams, strange in their nature, and thus only that. However, dreams seem to offer insight and sometimes an uncanny meditation on life and death. In 2009, I lost my mother to genetic breast cancer, after 7 years of fighting. I’ve had many, rather mundane, dreams with … More Mother of My Dreams