The seagulls swooped in immediately to consume our breadcrumb sins, and just like that, we were cleansed! We had just completed the Tashlikh ceremony to conclude the first Rosh Hashanah morning and afternoon service on the North Coast in 50 years, after a wonderful evening service the night before.
For Farah’s mom (whom I haven’t met)
I met your daughter the other day,
New friend to my Willa,
At a gathering for new college students.
Our girl will be far away.
Your Farah is farther from you.
Peninsulas and Islands: A Tale for Coastal Communities
Charles Le Guin’s novel, North Coast, is a peninsula of a story. Set in the fictional community of Bridger Bay, the protagonists—Kim, the narrator, and Steve, who becomes his closest friend and briefly his lover—reach out between individuals, cultures, and elements.
Lifting hearts is as important as fundraising to our community
I moved to the Oregon Coast ten years ago after visiting to participate in a week-long painting workshop. During that visit I fell in love with the natural beauty of this place, the kind and progressive people I met, and the air of inclusion I found in the organizations, activities and events in the area. This was quite a change from the atmosphere in the California town where I had been living. [Read More]
How the World Can Be the Way It Is
I’m reading a book by this title, by Steve Hagen, published in 1995. The book has recently been revised and retitled Why the World Doesn’t Seem to Make Sense, published by Sentient Publications. Hagen is a Buddhist teacher with lots of credentials. Anyway, the book so far has been pretty repetitive, basically saying that Reality (with a capital R, the real thing) is different from what we think it is.
[Read more]
Into Hellfire Via Portland Frost
From the first line, I love this book, and it’s not even the first line but the quote before the first line that jump starts the whole thing. See, it’s Flannery O’Connor.
I’m haunted by O’Connor. This southern woman with pheasants on her farm who died before forty and wrote short stories about serial killers shooting good Christian grandmas and four-year-old boys drowning themselves in baptismal rivers. [Read More]
The Burial Ground, After the Battle
The dead are lined up according to size and type,
as neatly arranged as clothing in a drawer,
records on a shelf,
bullets in a chamber.
A quiescent machine waits to lift them,
its steel mouth clamping one, nipping at mossy skin
and flaccid lichens.
Little and Big: a story about a town
Once upon a time there was a little town by a big ocean. It was a wise little town. Long ago it had looked at its dunes and beaches, its big trees, its marsh where the red-wing blackbirds sang, its little streets and little grey shingle shops and houses, and said: This is all good.
America is in Moral Decline
If we are to truly measure morality, then we need to look at what we prize as a society. How do we spend our free time? What is our treasure? What motivates us? What do we value the most?
The answer isn’t very far away–it’s in our driveways, in the corners of our living rooms, in our hands, our ears and our pockets. It is money and everything money can buy. [Read More]
As society evolves, it becomes more moral
Some of my conservative friends that I’ve talked to recently think that America in particular and the world in general is in a moral decline. It is common for them to compare America with ancient Rome. “We’re heading the same way as Constantine,” a Republican colleague said to me a few weeks ago.
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