C.M. Rivers

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


Contemplative Essays

  • Wondering Aloud

    Think of the way clouds roll across a big sky.  Think of the embroidery of a spider, how hard it works to put food on the table.  Think how familiar you are with the contents of your wallet, purse, kitchen cabinets, the scent of your own pillows. I wonder if this is how birds feel Continue reading

  • Pearl

    Walking alone in nature can be sacred, healing and rejuvenating. The motor of your mind gradually stops its whirring and quiets down, like a swarm of locusts moving further into the distance.  Constrictions loosen.  Stale transforms to Vivifying.  You have made some space around yourself, and you are participating in creation.  The sights and sounds Continue reading

  • Walking Home

    As is so often the case, it was only me at my own side, constant companion. Eyes on the next bend in the road, waving mosquitoes away unsuccessfully, rounded stones half-buried in the ground pushing at my feet through the soles of my shoes. The light softens now. Cloud-shadows of evening begin to lick the Continue reading

  • The Price Of Admission

    The other night I made some popcorn and settled onto the couch to watch “Blackfish”.  Somehow I missed all the buzz about it from last year, so I went into it blissfully ignorant of what I was about to learn.  What started out as a seemingly harmless documentary quickly became an animal lover’s nightmare, haunting Continue reading

  • Stillness

    Like so many things, it comes when I have given in, given up the search, released the desire, turned my attention elsewhere.  It comes in crumpled-up moments – in splintered, fickle doses. It’s as if my expectation of it is the very thing that prevents it.  I might be on the town running errands, ticking them Continue reading

  • Through the Door

    We live in the crook of fortune’s flexible arm, an arm that winds up at a predetermined and rigid hand.  We live both sides, both ways, each a tiger, surveying from ripples wound about the tightened stake of natural selection. We’d love a look at the other side without going through, a rare and much sought-after mystical optometry, Continue reading