I went back up Tiger Mountain, the High Point Way trail that cuts through a former homeless camp, Tent City 4. That camp kept getting moved until it landed here, at the base of Tiger Mountain smack dab on the… Read More ›
yoga
This house of ours
Dark early mornings with the smell of candle wax and incense. My cotton T-shirt wet from the cat suckling me. The bistro lamps on the chicken coop out back and the occasional silhouettes of deer passing by, pausing to chew… Read More ›
Was
I’d finally become that guy you see walking around the neighborhood at odd hours wearing a fluorescent high-visibility vest. Sure it made sense as a safety measure but people in those vests always irked me, their look-at-me-I’m-so-responsible attitude, the way… Read More ›
Epiphany
The best light of day is on the seams of it, at the start and end. You don’t need to be a stoner to understand this but it helps. The stoner has a crude love of the sensuous, best realized… Read More ›
First Sundays
My wife and the dog snored as I sat on the floor at the base of the bed in the dark meditating. The book said the body lives in the past, the mind lives in the future, and yoga connects… Read More ›
Rat torture scene reveal
By the time we got to winter it already felt like spring in the Pacific Northwest. A few things bloomed and the Christmas bugs returned, those gray, floppy, mosquito-like creatures that come every January. I don’t mind the bugs but… Read More ›
Spirit of the rising sun
Just the radio in the corner and the heater blowing. The year winds down. We had so much rain this week they compared it to the floods of 1990 but this week was worse. I stayed in all day, no… Read More ›
“Send it off in a letter to yourself”
In the morning my eyes were puffy and my hair askance, and I went to Starbucks like that for a cold brew. I said skip the ice, I just need the caffeine — the woodpecker woke me up again. And… Read More ›
They know it’s time to go
After 89 days without a good rain it was definitive it would come back Sunday. We were gearing up for the first fire of the season, a stew, some red wine, music. We’d move the patio furniture to the garage,… Read More ›
Corpse pose, prose
When we came back from Germany last year I had May, June, July, August, and September off before I went back to work. And before that I had a year not working, starting just before Christmas. How fast the clouds… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 