My Oma with my uncle and my dad//
My Oma and Opa//
My Opa and Oma with my dad//



I see Ives in my dad.

all the attention you can give it

"[I was reminded] of something I saw early one morning a few years ago, as I was walking up to the church.  There was a young couple strolling along half a block a head of me.  The sun had come up brilliantly after a heavy rain and the trees were glistening and very wet.  On some impulse, plain exuberance, I suppose, the fellow jumped up and caught hold of a branch, and a storm of luminous water came pouring down on the two of them and they laughed and took off running, the girl sweeping water off her hair and her dress as if she were a little bit disgusted but she wasn't.  It was a beautiful thing to see, like something from a myth.  I don't know why I thought of that now, except perhaps because it is easy to believe in such moments that water was made primarily for blessing, and only secondarily for growing vegetables and doing the wash.  I wish I had paid more attention to it.  My list of regrets may seem unusual, but who can know that they are, really.  This is an interesting planet.  It deserves all the attention you can give it."

-M. Robinson, Gilead






"
I walked into this empty church.
I had no place else to go
When the sweetest voice I ever heard
Whispered to my soul
I don't need to be forgiven 
For loving you so much
It's written in the scriptures
It's written there in blood.
I even heard the angels 
Declare it from above -
there aint no cure
there aint no cure
there aint no cure for love.
"

when the resident was still a mystery

mornings across the table from him








Holy Week came early.
“I want to stick my net into time and say ‘now’ as men plant flags on the ice and snow and say ‘here’.” - Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek.  

To parent a child is like looking for a line within a circle.  I try so hard to plant my flags.  To document the details, to distinguish the befores and afters:  Today he holds a spoon.  Today he climbs the stairs.  Today he lets go of my breast.  Today he grabs hold of my hand.  Today.  Here.  Now.  Look.  But it’s futile.  Time is laughing at me.  I am trying to control it - with notebooks and photo albums - to hold it in my hand as I hold him in my arms and held him in my belly.  

It is an exercise in faith:  to stop grabbing for sharp corners and merely stand by, bear witness, notice and let go.


“Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.”

“Taking notice of the world as we pass through it, the world [all the while] taking no notice of us.  […] There’s a strange comfort in that.”  - Karl Ove Knausgaard


words for this blog.
"The day you were born there was just wind enough to stir the curtains a little, and there was just light enough to make it seem like evening all day long. And there was quiet enough to make it seem as though sound had passed out of the world all together, leaving the wind behind to sweep up after it."

-M. Robinson, Lila

Have you heard of Mangrove trees?  They form floating islands.  One seedling sets sail, casts off, and years later his family has grown large enough to be called land.  Their interwoven roots function as entire miniature ecosystems, housing oysters and starfish.

Wrote some words, for these friends, a couple years ago.  
The piece and their finished film: here