Immeasurable, Infinite

“I came out of the park. The city streets rose up around me. There was a hotel with a courtyard with metal tables and chairs for people to sit in more clement weather.
Today they were snow-strewn and forlorn. A lattice of wire was strung across the courtyard.
Paper lanterns were hanging from the wires, spheres of vivid orange that blew and trembled in the snow and the thin wind; the sea-grey clouds raced across the sky and the orange lanterns shivered against them.

The Beauty of the House is immeasurable; its Kindness infinite.”

Piranesi, Susannah Clarke

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The Three Sisters

Sga:d hëdwa:yë:’ ögwa’nigöë’
We gather our minds together to send greetings and thanks to the world around us. Now our minds are one.
dëyetinönyö:’
We give our thanks to
Jöhehgöh
Our Life Sustainers we harvest from the garden.
Da:h ne’hoh dih nëyögwa’nigo’dë:ök
And so let it be that way in our minds.
—Portion of the Ganö:nyög (Thanksgiving Address/Greetings to the Natural World/Words that Come Before All Else) in Onöndowa’ga:’ Gawë:nö’

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Spirited Away

Once you’ve met someone you never really forget them. It just takes a while for your memories to return.

—Zeniba, Spirited Away (千と千尋の神隠し)

Happy Halloween!

I can’t help but keep the awful tragedy in Seoul this weekend at front of mind… My heart breaks every time I think of the young people lost while they were out having fun and celebrating, full of life. So, so sad.
May they rest in peace. I hope this tragedy begets change to protect others in the future.
I hope you and your loved ones all had a safe Halloweekend.

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Three to The Third

Either a snail’s moist web of moonlight, or someone’s hot breath at four a.m. when the night has been too much, has eaten you whole.
This is my life.
It has been sifted through the bones of my body, through blood. It is all that I have.

—Joy Harjo

Happy birthday to me, from me.

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Spice and Scent

Like this alabaster box whose art
Is frail as a cassia-flower, is my heart,
Carven with delicate dreams and wrought
With many a subtle and exquisite thought.

Therein I treasure the spice and scent
Of rich and passionate memories blent
Like odours of cinnamon, sandal, and clove,
Of song and sorrow and life and love.

—Sarojini Naidu

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