Time
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Stone Lion
The face of the stone lion has turned white due to weather and time, two things I understand very little of, being neither meteorologist nor physicist. I only know that he reminds me of a Celtic warrior about to pick a fight, milky streaks spreading through the dark copper of his mane. A stone lion Continue reading
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Medicine in the Moment
The essence of time is found spontaneously in moments, not measured in minutes. Minutes are fleeting, moments are precious. Minutes are disposable, moments are priceless. In man’s strange invention of measured time, minutes tick tick tick away, evaporating, yet somehow stacking up to become the years of our life, a row of slender volumes held Continue reading
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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 Continue reading
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Merlyn
The mountains are alive with fire, transcendent breath, vigorous and endless. Though they have been given a name, a part of them will always be nameless, and I could say the same about myself. I heed the call, after all, of mist-laden glades. I walk among stones with broken blades. I come to you, mountains Continue reading
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No Rush
You don’t have to rush. You don’t have to be in such a hurry all the time. You don’t have to feel pulled in a hundred different directions. It’s only the energy of the society around you, and has nothing to do with the conversation your life makes with the world. When you give up Continue reading
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Omphalos
My fires are so thirsty, the hunger drinks itself. Transcendent wheel turning, at once groaning and soundless. I speak the language of rounded stones, spoken at the navel of the world. At times I cannot even reach you. At times I scoop you up to ride across the world in the cups of my Continue reading
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Stones On The Shore
Like stones on the seashore, we too are fragments of something larger, something greater. We too are individual yet connected. We too are washed up here from another realm, only to return to it. We too are picked up and thrown back, out of this sphere of gravity and oxygen, back out of a place Continue reading
C.M. Rivers 