C.M. Rivers

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

Journal

  • Carl Sandburg’s Poem”Wilderness”

    “Wilderness” by Carl Sandburg There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go. There Read more

  • From “Lessons From The Body” by Manuela Reeds

    ”If you grew up in western culture, you were taught to trust a reasoning mind, facts, and scientific evidence – not to listen to your body.  You probably had no lessons in school to teach you to slow down and trust your bodily sensations.  Instead, you were most likely taught to shut down, hold in Read more

  • No Small Wonder

    It’s those unexpected details in life that can astonish you sometimes, like little thieves waiting for an unwary tourist around a corner. Ants coming out two days before it rains. Burro dung holding up adobe walls for two hundred years. A hummingbird’s heart beating over a thousand beats per minute. A blue whale’s tongue weighing Read more

  • Dharma Wonderland

    Kennedy, King and Lennon.  Public squalor, private wealth.  What is this strange country, the United States of America?  It is the dog that – when left unattended – discovers everything on the table is within reach, the pleasure and the poison, and devours both. There are times I feel socially homeless among some of my Read more

  • Pilgrimage

    All day long, I see things a painter would paint. What is there to complain about? Even my own pain has been endured by thousands before me, and depicted by master sculptors. Pilgrimage, penance, failure, learning to hold one’s self tenderly, in friendship – all these have relevance to my experience of life. Honoring the Read more

  • Basho’s Traveling Companion

    On the jade-colored plate, yellow fruit. Between the window and folding screen, a bed, some clothing. In the stillness of the forest, water flowing. On the mountainside, plum blossoms. In the rain and mud, wild horses. From a bowl in the hermit’s shelter, steam rising. In the iron stove, embers glowing. At the edge of Read more