Saturday, March 24, 2012

something here

is learning
to serve
mystery, to
become willing to
wander, to
be lost.
It stretches,
making palpable
the elusive mythology
of pine and shore,
of grove and meadow.
The native furniture
of evening
returns, blue
and simple.
Something here
has always wanted this
nothing, this
limen, this


  1. i would like to have this tattooed upon my arm, my chest, my tongue, my eyes:

    is learning
    to serve


  2. I realized after I wrote that that it could have a couple of different meanings, depending on the inflection. Both work for me. thank you, Erin.


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About Me

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Georgia, United States
I live at the edge of the forest in a little town in the north Georgia mountains. I teach sixth grade Language Arts and am writing a memoir of sorts about family, spirituality, and narrative. I am also exploring a possible writing project having to do with contemporary lay contemplative experience and how it might be informed by the Desert Fathers and Mothers of early Christianity. I am a relatively recent convert to Roman Catholicism and an admirer of Pope Francis, Leonardo Boff, Joan Chittister, and Richard Rohr. I'm a Lay Associate of Our Lady of the Holy Spirit Monastery in Conyers, Georgia. I am interested in indigenous cultures, narratives, and spirituality, especially how these can inform my spirituality as a lay contemplative. I write, read, take pictures, play around with creating ephemera from paper and cloth and other organic things. I cook, hike, watch wildlife, and collect random bits of interesting oddness, both tangible and abstract. I am a seer of smallness and a caretaker of ridiculous minutiae. If you want, e-mail me at or