Sunday Afternoon: Dwindles to a wisp


When I was young, and for a long time afterward, Sunday afternoons were melancholy. I used to blame it on memories on my father retiring alone to his study to listen to classical music. I didn’t like classical music. It made me uneasy…I didn’t like the closed door.

But I think something else was going on. The span of a week is a reminder of the finite, even to the young. And powerful Sunday, which starts out fat and lazy, stretching endlessly ahead, dwindles to a wisp, and just like that, it’s over.

~ Abigail Thomas, Thinking About Memoir


Quiet has many moods


Quiet has many moods. When our sons are home, their energy is palpable. Even when they’re upstairs sleeping I can sense them, can feel the house filling with their presence, expanding like a sail billowed with air. I love the dawn stillness of a house full of sleepers, love knowing that within these walls our entire family is contained and safe, reunited, our stable four-sided shape resurrected. But those days are the exception now, not the norm.

~ Katrina Kenison, Magical Journey: An Apprenticeship in Contentment 


What are these words worth?

September, October,

What are these words worth?
Who else would believe
these trees &
this sun &
this Aeolian gust?
Amen again.

~ Nate Pritts, “Feelings, Associated,” Right Now More Than Ever: Poems

Credits: Poem – the distance between two doors. Photo: We Heart It.  Bio/website: Natt Pritts

Sunday Morning


…I turned
and the earth hushed.
While I leaned into silence
a morning too vast to fathom
filled with light.


~ David Lee, Dawn Psalm, Pine Valley from So Quietly The Earth

Credits: Poem Source – Rod McIver. Photo: Kyle Thompson via PetaPixel

Sunday Night Is Cool.





Source: this isn’t happiness

Sunday Morning: The Sabbath, the day of rest


In February, I felt I had to be equally open about my cancer — and facing death. I was, in fact, in the hospital when my essay on this, “My Own Life,” was published in this newspaper. In July I wrote another piece for the paper, “My Periodic Table,” in which the physical cosmos, and the elements I loved, took on lives of their own.

And now, weak, short of breath, my once-firm muscles melted away by cancer, I find my thoughts, increasingly, not on the supernatural or spiritual, but on what is meant by living a good and worthwhile life — achieving a sense of peace within oneself. I find my thoughts drifting to the Sabbath, the day of rest, the seventh day of the week, and perhaps the seventh day of one’s life as well, when one can feel that one’s work is done, and one may, in good conscience, rest.

~ Oliver Sacks: Sabbath. The Seventh Day of the Week. The Seventh Day of Life


Oliver Sacks died this morning. He was 82 years old. His work here is done and may he now rest in peace.

The story in NY Times: Oliver Sacks Dies at 82; Neurologist and Author Explored the Brain’s Quirks


Sunday Morning


Perhaps we wouldn’t need chapels if our lives were already clear and calm (a saint or a Jesus may never need to go into a church; he’s always carrying one inside himself). Chapels are emergency rooms for the soul. They are the one place we can reliably go to find who we are and what we should be doing with our own lives—usually by finding all we aren’t, and what is much greater than us, to which we can only give ourselves up.

“I like the silent church,” Emerson wrote, “before the service begins.”

~ Pico Iyer, Where Silence is Sacred

Image: Groteleur


What Motivates a Modern Nun?


[…] Which provoked a question: What could lead a personable young woman from a happy family to give up everything — especially at a moment when women have never had as many opportunities before them?

It’s a reasonable question.

Yet amid the palpable jubilance of this jam-packed basilica, it is clear that this question is the wrong one. There are no sad sacks or martyrs on this altar today. These are happy, excited women. What is it they believe they have found?

Sister Bethany says it’s the “peace in your heart” that comes from knowing you are where you are meant to be. In this case it’s a place so countercultural, it’s almost un-American. For in a nation founded upon the God-given right to the pursuit of happiness, these sisters vow to put the happiness of others before their own. […]

~ William McGurn, What Motivates a Modern Nun?

Photo Source: Thank you Doug @ Eclecticitylight. Image from the 1947 film titled: “Black Narcissus


Sunday Morning: Touch the Untouchable

My vision is to personally take no more than 20 people on journeys of 10 days or less by private jet or helicopter to the furthest corners of the earth. On these expeditions, you will be living with Emperor Penguins in Antarctica and sleeping at the South Pole, searching for the Northern Lights in Iceland, Greenland and Lapland and go on a diving expedition in Palau where you can dive with a million jelly fish that do not sting. I want to reach out and touch the untouchable.

~ Geoffrey Kent, Abercrombie & Kent

Notes: Video taken at Palau’s Jellyfish Lake. Video set to Nuvole Bianche by Ludovico Einaudi (iTunes)