existentialist cafe

life is sacred

Month: February, 2014

The colored world wakes up

After so much time time in the city, finally got to breath some country air and walk through the woods. No matter that it was in ~12 inches of snow. It was 61 degrees! Wonderful. I saw two pileated woodpeckers(!), some green shoots growing in a puddle of snow melt, and the most amazingly blue sky I can remember. When I got home there was a torrent of starlings in the trees behind my mom’s house all talking about the weather. They are an invasive species, but that isn’t their fault.

The green like jewel shoots under a
sapphiric blue sky blasted away
the numbing white noise of winter


One poem and one haiku

The Pangs of Memory
Even in the city, I remember the stars;
In the winter, I remember the bath of spring;
In loneliness, I remember laughter;
In the cold, I remember the salty sea air;
In adulthood, I remember the wooded kingdom;
In the town, I remember the Brandywine;
In my body, I remember the garden;
In the city, I remember the stars.

in Pennypack Park:

as the red-tail soars
a single maple leaf falls
and floats towards the sea

In defence of myth

The world is metaphor. Metaphor is not a cheap, “emotional” replacement for facts. Reality itself is metaphorical, and our metaphors are portals to reality. Before we learn the “facts” of life we experience life in spatial extension. The body is the first metaphor, through which we resonate all the joy and sorrow of the world. The shaking in our knees, the shiver down our spine, the warmth in our heart – this is our most intimate experience of the world. Nothing else can take its place. When we finally do what we need to do, a weight is lifted off of our chest. When someone is taken from us, they are torn from our heart. The fact that our literal heart is still in tact is of secondary, and nearly inconsequential, importance. Love, anxiety, anger, gratitude.. these are whole-body experiences. The claim that they can simply be wrapped up in a simple conceptual understanding of reality dies in the face of our lived experience: life is a given; it is a gift.


If you could not tell, I have been posting infrequently lately, and will probably continue to do so for a bit. I’m at a place in my life where words are not such a great help.