"What makes a great story makes a great life." ~ Anonymous Ever heard that? I've long treated it as a truism. But I just wandered the web looking for a source and couldn't find one. In fact, it looks like this saying is mostly getting bandied about my pastors and marketing mavens. Hmmm... Maybe it's been composted together from many different sayings? Searching for a derivation I came across ...
Adventure
Off to Paddle
Sometimes it is right and good to close the lid, push back your chair, lock the door, and head out onto a slow-flowing stream or lake for a paddle. Tranquil tonic. Solitude. No permission. No regrets. ...
Rucksack
It’s time for a moratorium On worries and procrastination, On moorings and parking meters And slipped opportunities. It’s time for a rucksack manifesto. A few lines from one of my current favorites. It's still a rough, rough draft. I've been dancing with it for longer than almost anything else in this project. I've given up repeatedly, abandoned it, tried to forget about it. But it keeps ...
Small Press
A press. A small press. For grapes and wine. For apples and hard, tart cider. But this diminutive hand-me-down is not the only small press that I have been considering lately. I believe that it is the right time for a pair of small presses. Companions. I can hardly imagine what spirited offspring they might conceive! ...
Rules
"Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… The ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… They push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see ...
Paris by Night
Perhaps we all live in darkness, drawn to the flicker of light emanating from a fading affair, vagrants bumping clumsily, intentionally, hungrily in a Paris night. (Source: "Paris by Night", 40x41: Midlife Crisis Postponed) Some poems are conceived of tenderness. Others erupt violently, gasping for air. This turgid fragment from a prose poem called "Paris by Night" is neither tender nor ...