in the middle of the paper, OK? Look up at your partner. Look at the inside of one of their eyes. Doesn't matter which one. That's where you're going to start. Ready? Deep breath. (Inhales) And begin. Now, just draw but notice where you are, you're starting there and you see there is a corner, maybe there's a curve there. Notice those little lines, the eyelashes. People are wearing masks, some aren't, just work with that. Now just go slow. Pay attention and draw what you see. And don't look down. Just keep going. (Murmuring) And just five more seconds. And stop.&nb... posted on Oct 21 2023 (5,185 reads)

music is trying to say.” What does that evoke for you? Cave:Well, okay, so… Tippett:Of course the point of the poem is that you can’t sum that up, but I’m just curious about where Nick Cave’s mind goes. Cave:Well you can’t really sum that up, but I can give it a go. And my feelings about this have changed, too, over the years. But it feels to me that music in itself, I would say, has a moral dimension. That it’s essentially good. That it works to improve matters. And that’s how I go about concerts these days. And it’s not me in particular, but any musician. In fact, playing any kind of music can do something to improve mat... posted on Dec 6 2023 (3,363 reads)

because we had just met, and there he was, absolutely right. I told him I was having second thoughts about the band. “Well, do you have a picture of what you would like your life to look like in ten years?” I hadn’t thought about it until he asked me, but I closed my eyes and could see a vision of who I wanted to be. It was so clear. I started describing the vision of a young man who was married with children, walking his kids to school, being involved in community work, and helping and assisting others with their spiritual pursuits. When I finished describing the vision I had seen, I looked at Alex, and his eyes were filled with tears. “Alex, I know I ... posted on Feb 13 2024 (4,106 reads)

of meaning.” Here is an example of a spiritually literate reading of a scene from a movie. In the 1995 film Smoke, Auggie Wren manages a cigar store on the corner of Third Street and Seventh Avenue in Brooklyn. Every morning at exactly eight o'clock, no matter what the weather, he takes a picture of the store from across the street. He has four thousand consecutive daily photographs of his corner all labeled by date and mounted in albums. He calls this project his "life's work." One day Auggie shows the photos to Paul, a blocked writer who is mourning the death of his wife, a victim of random street violence. Paul doesn't know what to say about the photos; ... posted on Mar 12 2024 (3,250 reads)

of the Luray Caverns. Each note reverberates across the caverns creating an otherworldly, all encompassing sound. Listen to the World's Largest Instrument It’s difficult to describe just how incredible this instrument sounds, so here is a short video from one of our favorite video creators, Great Big Story, to give you a special listen. Via: Great Big Story ³ Now, if you’re a curious sort, or musically inclined, you may have some questions about how this whole thing works. How does the sound make its way to the organ? Who plays this thing? Do you need to tune it? These are all great questions with fascinating answers. Like any instrument, the organ needs ongoing... posted on Apr 25 2024 (4,588 reads)

travel with me -- her name was Zhang Yun. She passed away, actually in a car accident a few months after she arrived and she was just a college student. I think about her often and just wanted to honor her for bringing me to the United States. In my youth and most of my childhood, I was really achievement-oriented. It wasn't for fame or money, but if I could name one thing, it was probably to honor my mama and baba -- they gave up so much of their life, to provide a future for me. I remember working on the Wall Street, fresh out of college and sort of being proud of myself for getting the hardest job to get, coming out of school. It was during my first year that I remember this very poign... posted on May 11 2024 (2,789 reads)

August 2022, my wife and I had the sublime privilege of hiking in the Canadian Rockies, urging our aging bodies forward, putting one foot in the front of the other along incessantly uphill trails. We established a daily routine not unlike preparing to go off to work: get up early to beat the crowds; pack our cameras, snacks, water, bear spray, and hiking poles; and drive to the trailhead in hopes of securing a place to park. Without knowing quite why, I found myself raising my camera often to frame the clouds that formed above and around the majestic peaks. My wife asked me if I thought the clouds and mountains were “in dialogue” (they were, at least meteorologically). Taki... posted on May 9 2024 (335 reads)

both of our two doors, the only entrances into our home, were inhabited by mothers. At the front door was a house finch sitting on five eggs in a nest hidden inside the winter’s Christmas wreath; at our side door was a mother robin, sitting on four eggs in the same nest she used last year. These birds chose to nest on our house, I assume, because they felt safety in our proximity.  It happened for the first time the year before, in mid-May. Dan had hung an old pair of olive green work pants from the light fixture on our side porch in case they had ticks on them. The next afternoon, when he went to shake them out, a robin shot out from behind the light and went squawking into o... posted on May 27 2024 (5,432 reads)

wanted them to stay in their bodies and to feel what their bodies were telling them. I didn’t want them to avoid their truths by talking it away or just petting the horses. The horses wanted to help heal, but they could only do that if the people were open to receive. Some people quickly found the horse they connected to and began a powerful communication. Others stood back and observed. There is no wrong way to connect, and it is always a privilege to watch as people discover what works for them in that moment. Suddenly, the horses all became restless at once. I could feel why. The hair on my arms was standing up. I knew we were about to experience an intense summer storm.... posted on Jun 4 2024 (3,841 reads)

delete my social media but felt its pull. I knew I would miss out on friends’ and artists’ posts. Stuck between deleting it and keeping it, I stumbled upon a New York Times article about the “Luddites.” The Luddite Club community is an NYC-based club of teenagers who reject social norms by “self-liberating” themselves from social media and phones. Their catchphrase is “Don’t be a phoney.” The original “Luddites” were a British workers movement named after, and possibly led by, Ned Ludd, a man whose existence is still questioned. There isn’t any evidence of his influence except for members of the movement claiming thei... posted on Jun 15 2024 (2,430 reads)

ruminative thinking can make it hard to see reality as it is, keeping us locked into negative thinking patterns that don’t serve us. When that happens, our mental health may be compromised; we may lose sleep, have trouble concentrating, or feel lethargic and depressed. What can we do instead? There are many tips for transforming rumination into something less toxic and even useful. Here are a few tools I’ve found helpful in my own life—and that research suggests can work for those of us prone to rumination. Practice mindful awareness Creating a little separation from your spinning thoughts can help transform them into something more manageable. By becoming an ... posted on Jun 13 2024 (2,844 reads)

seen in Parade - January 1, 2012) I’ve received quite a few nice notes and letters from people who saw my piece in Parade. That piece was necessarily much shortened, because of space limitations, so I thought I’d share an earlier draft with those who have taken the time to come to this page. Here goes. “Knowing that you had to work on Thanksgiving, of all days, I thought I’d express my gratitude that you have taken the time and made the effort to learn my name and greet me each day in a way that makes me feel like a person instead of a number.  It’s a small thing, but on any given day, it can make all the difference.  Thank you!” I sent th... posted on Aug 18 2013 (99,918 reads)

that sustain life. To be clear, solutionaries are not the same as problem-solvers (which is why the word can be helpful). Engineers can solve the problem of blowing up a mountain for coal removal, but that does not make them solutionaries. Embedded in the definition of solutionary is the imperative to consider the impacts of our solutions on all life and to strive to avoid causing unintended harm. Solutionaries are also not the same as humanitarians. Humanitarians relieve suffering and work to mitigate harm, which is a deeply worthy endeavor. Solutionaries take humanitarianism a step further by addressing the causes of suffering and harm so they do not persist.  Solutiona... posted on Jun 27 2024 (841 reads)

toward a gentle homecoming to the seasonal nature of my own life – of our lives.Before moving to Chile, I lived an incredibly fast-paced life in the realms of international business. My career in sustainable business was a far cry from the childhood lived on an organic farm in rural Pennsylvania, where the rhythm of my days was guided by the needs of the horses, the soil and the rest of the always-growing plants and animals. As a child, there was never a need to seek rest, even though we worked hard every day. The animals, the plants, the forest, the creeks and the sky beckoned us with countless invitations to pause, breathe and simply be – and so we did, with ease.Adulthood tri... posted on Dec 31 1969 (7 reads)

agreeing to go out to the store alone at ten, agreeing to do all kinds of things I didn’t really want to do. I shivered a little with self-pity. New York City At Night, ca. 1935 from Wikimedia Manhattan in the 1980s was a gritty place. I used to think of it as having a dark glamour but no more. A few years before, I had come to Manhattan like someone drawing close to a fire. I wanted to be warmed, enlightened. But nothing turned out the way I hoped, not love, not work, not life. I pictured myself a waif huddling along in a bleak neighborhood, bringing her own pasta to dinner. The image was so pathetic that I savored it, a fragment of a modern Dickens tale. I ... posted on Dec 31 1969 (4 reads)