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“In the circus,” photographer Gordon Stettinius writes, “reality becomes mutable and life an illusion. . . . Everything is not necessarily what it purports to be. But then, what is?”
By Gordon StettiniusFebruary 2008A case of teapot-sized tea bags, an autographed cocoa-splattered napkin, blackberries mingling with wild roses along the fence
By Our ReadersJanuary 2008I was a conscript, like Caroline before me, drafted shortly after her fourteenth birthday when Mom first came up with the idea for a family band. Caroline and I knew better than to reveal the true circumstances of our participation, though I suspected people sensed the truth. I’d seen a documentary about American POWs in Hanoi who’d blinked Morse-code distress signals to the camera, and I sometimes imagined the audience could read the same message of resistance in our faces.
By John TaitJanuary 2008To Jerry, everything was potentially interesting. When parents say, “Pay attention,” they mean, “Know in advance when danger will occur” — which, of course, is impossible. But Jerry showed me how to pay attention; how to look and then say what I had seen, precisely, accurately, truly. Jerry embodied attentiveness. His gift to his students was to pass on this process of attending to the world.
By Heather SellersDecember 2007Morel mushroom hunting, midnight sledding on Suicide Hill, eraser racing
By Our ReadersSeptember 2007You said you thought the word was pure / to describe the moonlight above us / on our last night in boarding school, / when you and I broke the rules and slept / outside under a blanket of young summer.
— from “To My Lifelong Friend Going To Prison”
By Edwin RomondJune 2007One winter evening, when I was twenty-six years old and recovering from a long illness, I decided to go out dancing. I could have chosen another form of entertainment, I suppose — a movie or a meal out — but I chose contradancing because it would involve my body more than my mind, and my mind was what had gotten me into trouble.
By Ellen SantasieroMay 2007The U.S. is a great country. You can live the way you want there; you can be a self-made person. But sometimes, when all our energy goes into progress, acquisition, and productivity, it leaves a huge emptiness in the heart. I think the teachings of Meister Eckhart can address that emptiness, can show us how to be patient with it, and in fact bring us deeper into it. At the heart of our emptiness, we can actually discover nourishment in the secret landscapes of imagination and spirit.
By Diane CovingtonApril 2007“All has come to nothing,” he writes. / In old age his clothes are tattered and thin, / His hut without a door; sick, / He suffers bad dreams.
By Robert P. CookeApril 2007Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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