….you don’t know who you are unless you can imagine being otherwise.
Marilynne Robinson, from an interview in the Atlantic
May 22nd, 2012
April 25th, 2012
Lake Bohinj, Slovenia via John & Tina Reid
April 19th, 2012
Poet Naomi Shihab Nye: 'Telling a Story Helped Us Figure Out Who We Were' : NewsHour Poetry Series : Video : The Poetry Foundation
This is the poet, Naomi Shihab Nye, who inspired the title of my tumblr…and inspires a lot more than that.
April 1st, 2012
Come, ye weary, heavy laden,
Lost and ruined by the fall;
If you tarry till you’re better,
You will never come at all.
Let not conscience make you linger,
Not of fitness fondly dream;
All the fitness He requireth
Is to feel your need of Him.
From “Come, Ye Sinners, Poor and Needy” by Joseph Hart.
Glad to hear these words in a world racing to be good enough.
March 20th, 2012
448
Lake Geneva, Switzerland via mujepa
March 19th, 2012
And when we refuse to produce—or consume—information that challenges us intellectually, to find the shades of grey that always exist in any story, we effectively say, yes, what I want is propaganda.
Why media literacy and personal responsibility in consuming media is important, from an essay by Jen Paton at 3 Quarks Daily.
March 9th, 2012
For a long time then I seemed to live by a slender thread of faith, spun out from within me. From this single thread I had spun strands that joined me to the good things of the world. And then I spun more threads that joined all the strands together, making a life. When it was complete, or nearly so, it was shapely and beautiful in the light of day. It endured through the nights, but sometimes it only barely did. It would be tattered and set awry by things that fell or blew or fled or flew. Many of the strands would be broken. Those I would have to spin and weave again in the morning.
Wendell Berry, in Jayber Crow, writing of the fight for hope that occurs during restless nights.
It is not a terrible thing to love the world, knowing that the world is always passing and irrecoverable, to be known only in loss. To love anything good, at any cost, is a bargain. It is a terrible thing to love the world, knowing that you are a human and therefore joined b kind to all that hates the world and hurries its passing—the violence and greed and falsehood that overcomes the world that is meant to be overcome by love.
Loving Wendell Berry’s book, Jayber Crow, and passages like this, in particular.
March 1st, 2012
I prefer winter and fall, when you can feel the bone structure in the landscape — the loneliness of it — the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it — the whole story doesn’t show.
Andrew Wyeth, quoted here (via wesleyhill)
