life
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Life Is Not Fair
1My father would halt meby looking over his half-glassesand precisely intoning:"Life is not fair,"a statement falling somewherebetween actuality and pathological avoidance. 2Already aware of the unfairnness of life,I wasn't looking for him to repair it,simply to acknowledge it–not the lack… Continue reading
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Two Great Instructors
Throughout lifeI have been taughtin tandemby two great instructors–grief and amazement. These may be,in actuality,the only two teachersI'll ever haveor ever need. What have you learnedthat has not comethrough loss? What have you learnedthat has not comethrough wonder? Text and… Continue reading
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Not Always So
Yesterday,a scare with the cats: hours of anxious waiting, hours of driving, thirsty for reassurance, hundreds of dollars, hundreds of tears.and suddenly,all is well. Just like that,all is well–we are home– the cats more appreciative… Continue reading
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Feeling Dangerous
If you woke up this morningfeeling dangerous,it's going to bea good day. Text and image © 2011 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved. Continue reading
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Rain
I will sleep well tonight,with the rush of rain around me,with the woosh of water as cars pass in the street,the drum of drops from the roof to the porch,the hiss of mist whispering through blades of grass,earth greening herself… Continue reading
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Denver Art Museum, Holy Saturday, 2011
I The art of New Spain, 1598-1821.I sit on a creaking camp stoolsurrounded by assorted grim Jesuseswho bleed,who hang their heads with eternal weariness.Sad, solitary suffering,standing forever with hands bound,hanging forever with xylophone ribs. This is Good Friday stuff,not yet… Continue reading
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Remembering and Discovering at the Same Time
I am an admirer of the poet David Whyte. Even when David speaks about poetry, it is poetry. Listen to some of the ways he describes the art of the poem: remembering and discovering at the same time a conversation… Continue reading
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Vigil II
We hear the train rumble into the stationas we stand around the bedthat cradles the 90-year-old-womanwhom we call wife, mother, sister, friend. The wailing of the whistlesignals the train has stopped.We glance at one another:Is this an arrival or a… Continue reading
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Vigil I
There isn't a discrete momentwhen you say, with certainty,"There, that was death." Instead, there's the dawning realizationthat the next breath hasn't come,that at some point,somewhere in the last minute or two or three,something that had been there for decades,snuck past… Continue reading
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The Unfolding
What Willy apprehendsas he trots toward mewith his prolonged, staccato meow,is not a past, present and future,but a steady allness,an isness that encloses self, me, his brother, my partner Tim, the wood floor below, the kitchen counter above,without division or distinction,in… Continue reading