A Brief Pause at the Edge of Becoming
It seems I am always seeking a place to sit—
not just to rest the body,
but to settle the soul.
Yet even in stillness, Gary Brecka’s words whisper:
“The quickest way to old age
is the aggressive pursuit of comfort.”
So I do not stay long.
I walked until I found a picnic table
beneath a canopy of bare-limbed trees,
branches like open hands waiting for green.
The blue spruces nearby—
stoic, unchanged, whispering that some things endure.
I sketched.
Not perfectly. Not for anyone’s praise.
Just a mark to say: I was here.
Alive in this in-between.
Waiting. Listening.
Not for leaves—
but for something truer than comfort.
Thank you for joining me in this small noticing.
A moment borrowed from the rush.
A table. A tree. A thought.
A gift.
Behold the Chair
(inspired by Wendell Berry)
Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.
The chair does not strive.
It does not speak loudly.
It simply is—
ready to receive,
to hold what comes,
to honor the silence.
This drawing does not shout.
It listens.
It does not disturb the quiet—
it joins it.
Like a prayer whispered
to the One who listens back,
this mark is a presence,
not a performance.
