Some of us call it chance; those less at peace with the randomness that governs the universe may call it “God.
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Tag: poetry
Dead Stars: Poet Laureate Ada Limóns Stunning Love Poem to Life
“We’ve come this far, survived this much. What would happen if we decided to survive more? To love harder?” We know that the atoms composing our bodies and our brains can be traced back to particular stars that died long ago in some faraway corner of the cosmos.
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Some Thoughts about the Ocean and the Universe
In many ancient creation myths, everything was born of a great cosmic ocean with no beginning and no end, lapping matter and spirit into life.
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The Poetry of Reality: Robert Louis Stevenson on What Makes Life Worth Living
If wonder springs from the quality of attention we pay to things and joy springs from our capacity for presence with wonder, then the quality of our attention shapes the quality of our lives.
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Meditation in Sunlight: May Sarton’s Stunning Poem About the Relationship Between Presence, Solitude, and Love
May Sarton (May 3, 1912–July 16, 1995) was thirty-three when she left Cambridge for Santa Fe. She had just lived through a World War and a long period of personal turmoil that had syphoned her creative vitality — a kind of deadening she had not experienced before.
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Ada Limón — “To Be Made Whole”
Krista Tippett: I really believe that poetry is something we humans need almost as much as we need water and air. We can forget this.
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The Quiet Machine
I’m learning so many different ways to be quiet. There’s how I stand in the lawn, that’s one way. There’s also how I stand in the field across from the street, that’s another way because I’m farther from people and therefore more likely to be alone.
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Dead Stars
I am a hearth of spiders these days: a nest of trying. We point out the stars that make Orion as we take out the trash, the rolling containers a song of suburban thunder.
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A New National Anthem
The truth is, I’ve never cared for the National Anthem. If you think about it, it’s not a good song. Too high for most of us, with “the rockets’ red glare” and then there are the bombs. (Always, always there is war and bombs.
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What Is Time: 200 Years of Ravishing Reflections, from Borges to Nina Simone
We are living interludes, bookended between not yet and no more, each of us a random draw of the cosmic lottery, each allotted a sliver of spacetime in which to live out our lives as chance configurations of stardust suspended in time.
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Front Porch Reflections 
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