This. Here. Now.

Recollected Life, this has been fun. Thanks for the space as I crested the hill. It's been good here, and now it's time to move on.

The next adventure is THIS. HERE. NOW.

Join me!


(Resuming) 99 Words for 99 Days: August 22

  1. The Digging
They met in the dark, and each carried a load. His was smaller. Hers was too heavy to lift easily and she walked nearly buckled under its weight. Deliberately careless, he let his pack fall to the ground, pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket, onto his hands. Together, they began to dig.

That night, they buried their dead in the deep, dark earth, and by sunrise they were through. Through digging. Through the stench. Through the night. The children who would come from that place would be beautiful, but the diggers would never stop smelling their dead.


99 Words for 99 Days: July 31

  1. Transfigured
Sometimes we can see what will be before it can be. We sense it. Hear it in the wind. Feel it on our skin. And then it goes – and we cry out – outraged that it is not yet. We mourn. And there must needs be a Gethsemane. A Calvary. A death to which we turn and a resurrection to the new. Then the moment of knowing – the flash of light transfigured – not a trick of the sun in our eyes, but a promise – it lives. We know. In that other moment, we were transfigured.


99 Words for 99 Days: July 19

45. Inside

Days fill up. All by themselves, sixty minutes per hour, they fill. They pass. Or, that is how it seems. I've begun again to wonder about this sense of passing. Perhaps I need to move around a bit and get a better look. I mean, what if they're not filling up, but instead, I'm standing in the flow of a current, and the time that's going by is a sense of the numinous – the unspeakable? This is surely what the mystics mean by God's being in the moment. Only in the moment. Only in this moment. Inside of now.


99 Words for 99 Days: July 19

44. Columbia

The most surprising part of a surprising day was the drive. New job training, new location, new people, new procedures . . . but none of these things surprised me as much as the river today. My first day at that job, and the electricity went down, and the library's own computer records system crashed briefly, and the public computers got error messages and went completely nuts. But the river. The deeply life-flowing water on its way to the sea – the river was near me. I drove on the highway beside it, and the river knew my name.


99 Words for 99 Days: July 17

43. Seen

The fans blowing in the bedrooms down the hall are trying to move cooler air through the house. A puff of the night wafts in here too. Words refuse to surface. I'm in such peace tonight. Sometimes we don't see much of the unseen. Sometimes we're blind. That's probably just as well, I suppose. Most of the time, I think, it would terrify us to know more than we already do. But sometimes – for a moment or a season – the curtain moves – and we see. We know. The universe pulses with it. I guess it's love.


99 Words for 99 Days: July 15

  1. It rained then, too
Twenty-nine years ago, on this date, July 15, it rained. It was, I think, about this temperature, just about the same amount of splashy dampness in the air as there has been today. I remember it because I was paying a lot of attention to the weather. Today was the day of our wedding rehearsal. Tomorrow, it was The Day. Twenty-nine years ago, all I could think about was how ready I was for tomorrow to finally come. In 1983, it rained every day for the first fifteen days of July. On the sixteenth day, the sun came out.


99 Words for 99 Days: July 13

41. Anticipation on a Friday evening

Is there anything – anything at all – more luxurious than the anticipation of a quiet and easy morning coming? Nobody has to leave early. There's good fresh coffee in the house waiting to be ground and brewed. There are almond croissants waiting to rise overnight and be popped into the oven in the when we wake up. There is stuff to do, of course, but there is no need to do it right away. Not first thing. Tomorrow, when we wake up in the soft, cool breeze coming through the window, everything around us will be beautifully still.


99 Word for 99 Days: July 12

  1. . . . and counting
Yesterday I skipped another day. Too much to do, too late at night, too early starting, too many thoughts and attachments and responsibilities. Today's makes 40 posts instead of 42. I count them. 99 Words for 99 Days is taking longer than that. I watch the numbers. Click. Click. Today I see the thousand ways I think like a capitalist. Like a consumer. Like a woman with her harvests gathering into a barn, almost forgetting to eat, and drink, and be merry, counting. Keeping track. Enumerating. But tomorrow we die, so . . . today I think I'll live.


99 Words for 99 Days: July 10

  1. The Sounds of Summer
Through the open window this morning, on the fresh morning air, I could hear the train moving through the Gorge, and I hear it now – in the evening – after dinner – when the sun is only in the tops of the fir trees, making them golden against the pale blue of a very gentle sky. At the base of the trees, enclosed by them, encircled, our hay field and the man on the tractor, pulling the rake. Clacka clacketta clacka clacketta – katack katack katack. Smaller and smaller circles around. Now in the middle of the field.