Thursday, February 13, 2020
Comfort from a poet
Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer. RILKE Letters
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Thoughts
In my work as a psychotherapist, I am fascinated by how often a persons’ stories interact with their natural landscape. How much of their ...
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Excavation They are out in the street, digging up the cement with huge metal claws. Beneath is the dried dirt, full of pebbles. Below tha...
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A harsh wind fists the forests’ wall of leaves. The shaken green smell expands my chest, cracking me open to air. Thunder sounds, vibr...
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The leaves on the big backyard Oak have the first tinge of yellow and boom. My brain, friend and foe, presents a memory, me talking the two...
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