When I was a child our family had a short walnut bookcase in our narrow, ell-shaped hallway. The top shelf was filled with a brightly colored ChildCraft collection put out by World Book Encyclopedia. The bottom shelf held the more “adult” brown and black encyclopedia set. The bookcase, and its noble contents, arrived mysteriously. No brown packaging to herald an unpacking and no plaid clad encyclopedia salesman at our door.... Read the rest at Dappled Things. ... continue reading...
Here I Sit
Here I sit, at the kitchen table, fingers numb from too long at the computer. My fingers didn't grow numb with cold while doing what it was I set out to do; to break through the resistance and write. Nothing quite so heroic, I'm afraid. But someone else's essay, inspired by another's, inspired me. To just put my fingers to the keyboard - forgive me for the cliche - and describe what it is around me. The cranberry and cinnamon scented red candles, plastic freshly off; pristine and perfect ... continue reading...
Look & See | An elegy to what we have lost
Over the weekend I watched Look & See: A Portrait of Wendell Berry. It's on Netflix right now, so it's available for you to watch, too; if you are interested. The Look and See trailer can be found here. Wendell Berry is a writer and a farmer and so has spent his life doing both. This film focuses on Berry’s on Berry’s efforts to bring community back while resisting the industrial march that continues to threaten our farms. We see how huge industrial farms have come to dominate - acre ... continue reading...
Finding the Spiritual Monuments
Saints have a way of tapping us on the shoulder. It seems Edith Stein peeps out at me from around every corner as of late. There's no shortage of her work to be read! She called saints who went before her "spiritual monuments," but I'm sure she was one herself. Lately, "The Hidden Life" caught my attention. In it, Stein writes of St. Elizabeth of Hungary. She has quite a bit to say about that saint - a rather large essay, or small spiritual text. In any case, most of the information she provide ... continue reading...
Remembering What Made Us
I don't have much of a memory to speak of. When people tell me about their childhoods - the good and the bad - I listen in amazement. I am amazed that they have any recollection of it at all. My own childhood centers around a few moments here and there. For example, when I was, maybe, five years old. I was playing a game with the dog outside, calling to her through the kitchen window while she raced around the house to find the source of my voice. We were living in California at the time, in a ... continue reading...
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