Bibliographing: A Petition For Belonging

There is a story about Picasso that goes like this… Someone is introduced to Picasso and wishes to buy a drawing. He takes up a pencil, draws out a flower and hands it to the man, who asks the cost.  “$10,000” says Picasso. “But it only took you less than ten minutes to draw it!”…

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Thus Spake Sila: The Sun Rises Once Again In Greenland

In Greenland the sun goes down in about mid October and rose just a few weeks ago. I’ve never been to Greenland but I’ve known a few folks who have spent time there and have a great love for the place. I was leafing through “This Cold Heaven: Seven Seasons in Greenland” by Gretel Erlich…

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On Cilantro and Grief: Forbearance In The Presence Of The Bruise

Cilantro has a fascinating ancient pedigree. The seed. The leaf. The root. It is all edible and some people love it. Obviously some people are neutral about coriander/cilantro. And some people are deeply disturbed by the flavor of it. Julia Child is one – she said that when it came near her she wanted to…

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No Hats: The Prayer Of The Virgin Condor

This is a very broad generalization about sports but I’ll say it anyway. Sports where there are hats involved are more explicitly about control of your opponent than the free flow of play. This is not to say that there aren’t amazing and improbable and improvisational and miraculous things that happen in football or baseball…

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The Pure Chestnut: The Grammar of the Gone

This isn’t a story about the American Chestnut. In the world over but very broadly in the Northern hemisphere there is a persistent mythical understanding of a World Tree. An Axis Mundi. A Tree of Life. The Spine of The Great Mother. The Source of All Wands. This tree might be holding up the heavens,…

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Beset By Mystery: The Wiffle Ball

So often I write about indigenous people or a traditional cultural pathway. But the other day I saw a few minutes of a baseball game and I haven’t watched baseball in years. I used to be a fan and then it fell away for me. Then the same day I saw some kids and a…

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We Are The Stars Which Sing

The Schoodic Peninsula in Maine comes from the Passamaquoddy Indian word  ‘skut-auke’ meaning ‘place of the fire’ or ‘land that has been burned’. Whether this was a place that was the origin of their fire story or a place that they burned at some interval to spur new growth or a spot that was prone…

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