C.M. Rivers

"The point of being an artist is that you may live." ~ Sherwood Anderson

Journal

  • Cat’s Last Days

    He was smart, for a cat – something people tirelessly admire in their pets. And in terms of being a cat, there was little his eyes didn’t see.  But then he became a crippled old animal, no longer a threat to mice, chipmunks or birds. It was then when he himself became the hunted, by Read more

  • Wind and Rain

    The cat sort of fell onto his side and stretched out against the cool ceramic floor, finding relief as he allowed gravity to press him against the tiles checkered blue and white. I could see his little belly rising and falling through the shaggy fluff of his hair, the motor of his purr shifting into Read more

  • A Note On “Awakenings”

    My previous post, Awakenings, was written in reflection of my step-dad’s recent passing due to pancreatic cancer.  Paul Hout was a great man.  Throughout my childhood, he and my mom had a tumultuous on-and-off relationship, and were married for a brief time.  In those days, Paul had some serious anger management issues, but he never Read more

  • Awakenings

    We can see so much more with closed eyes, as if in closing them we are truly opening them. We see our story, the story of ourselves, our human-animal birth, all the way through to the opposite gate. It’s not in color or black-and-white, but some strangely familiar quality of light, striking chords and nerves, Read more

  • Swimming

    Forgive me for being so plain, but all things aside – including the alchemy of eternity being the steady stream of each moment pouring into the next – my purpose for being here today is to plunge into the water, as far as I can tell. This lake, viewed from the sky, takes the shape Read more

  • Savasana

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