Prayers
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For The Beauty
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees Is my destroyer. And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose My youth is bent by the same wintry fever. The force that drives the water through the rocks Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams Turns mine to wax. And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks. The hand that whirls the water in the pool Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind Hauls my shroud sail. And I am dumb to tell the hanging…
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The Beginning Of March
The coffee tasted especially good this morning; my wife found a new variety at a local store and it is now a favorite. I stepped outside to clip my fingernails, careful to keep the sun behind me as it slashed across the needle points and glass shards of frost on the grass. While I was about my business, I listened to the birds calling to each other across the hollers. Are the back-and-forth songs merely a “Hello! How are you this morning?” or are they a communication of important information, the inflection and tone and volume carrying nuances that only an avian heart can catch and decipher? The feeders were…
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Contemplating Foolishness
Christian history and tradition are rich with stories of the “holy fool” and the mendicant religious pilgrim. I possess neither the inclination nor the mettle to say goodbye to my wife and family and life to pursue such a course. And yet… There is a facet of my spirit’s personality, obscured usually even to myself, that is drawn to the idea of solitude and wandering and abandoning the things of this world. I have known a handful of people whose lives have been so marred by sudden and devastating tragedy that I cannot imagine how they found the grace and strength to soldier on until the end of their own…
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Prayer Request — With Update
My dear friend and spiritual adviser Father James Conner, who lives at Our Lady of Gethsemani Abbey in Kentucky, advised me this morning that he has sustained an injury. He apparently blacked out for no discernible reason and struck his head, causing a gash that required 12 stitches to close. He’s now on a heart monitor for a couple of days so that the cardiologist can try to ascertain the cause of the syncope and the best course of treatment. If you pray, please intercede for Father James. He is one of the kindest, deepest men I have ever met. He is very much at peace over these events, but…
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Towards, Then Past, Then Wondering
I was lost in thought as I drove home this evening, my mind splintered by the day’s frustrations and the mountains before me, bearded as they were with February mist, my almost-formed thoughts bunching up and then firing off in some of the directions to which they’re prone, then looping back and catching hold of the lullaby voice of Father Chad Ripperger, whose podcast was playing while the tires spun the rain back behind me and the wipers kept a cadence like 45 pairs of boot heels digging into the surface of the grinder beneath that unrainy sky so many years ago. The road sweeps down through a mountain gap…
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Waiting For The Ram
I didn’t know Terry well, but what I did know of him I liked. He was gentle, good-humored, a careful listener, and had large, expressive eyes that watched the world without cynicism. I also knew that he was troubled, with a history of admissions to psychiatric wards and rehab facilities. I used to watch him and wonder how one so young could be so weary. Terry always seemed to be fighting to suppress a wince, as if his interior bruises were being palpated by an unseen and uncaring hand. And so while I was dismayed, I was not very surprised when I learned of his death by suicide. The day…
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Forever And A Day
We met today after not seeing each other for almost a year. She was subdued and hesitant, and I waited for a pause in the conversation so I could ask her about what I was perceiving. She told me of her brother, just a few years older than her, and how he’s been caring for his wife for the past few years after she had a series of massive strokes. Her sole caregiver, he has dedicated all of his energies to taking care of the lady he’d once courted, married, fathered children with, and built a home for. But just a few weeks ago, he showed up at her…
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New Year, New Decade, New Day
My mother used to say that whatever a person does on New Year’s Day will indicate what that person will be doing for the rest of the year. Mindful of her words, I have all my life avoided doing things like laundry, paying bills, or coming within aural distance of zydeco music on the first day of January. If today is any indication of my coming year, I will be living like a kaiser. We slept in after falling asleep last night in front of a mellow fire in the stove, arose in good health and spirits, and feasted, thanks to Mrs. Orr, on a regal brunch of eggs and…
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Winter Solstice
The longest day of the year, significant to my ancestors, my people, those who endured in silence the things that make me wince and retreat. I love this day, and I do not love what comes after it…the gradual truncation of the nights and the incremental encroachment of more and more sunlight, until that day comes, that day that comes every year, that day when I go out into the world of men and hear a stereo in a car or see a female dressed like a camp follower or wade through deluded suburbanites jamming the aisles of the store where I’m trying to buy a spark plug and they’re…
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Feast Day Of Saint Imina
The tenacity of the remaining leaves at our farm was finally bested by Saturday night’s wind and rain. The limbs are now mostly bare, and the leaves are piled in ankle-high drifts, as if the sky deposited beige origami figures during the hours of darkness. The little suncatchers, who labored so faithfully for the trunk and limbs, have fulfilled their purpose and have died and returned to the earth to fertilize the same trunk and limbs. And in the spring, when the sun swings round again in its power, the trunk will push power into the limbs and the limbs will be dotted with green popcorn exploding on the tips,…