For years, the Coaster Theatre was perhaps best known for its annual production of some version of Dickens’ classic “A Christmas Carol.” Since the 1970’s, members of the community—from sandwich makers to librarians to students—came together to dress up in top hats and spread some holiday cheer. Those community members who didn’t take part in the show were sure to come and watch. The theatre truly brought the community together. [Read More]
Indian Summer
Autumn conjures up hallowed thoughts of education. Scholars conversing under sturdy campus oaks. Visits to libraries late at night, haunted by information.
Yet harvest’s end heralds an older turn from physical to mental labor, one that predates mortarboards and standardized tests. It’s a release of time to reflect on our ways, raid the smokehouse of knowledge, slice into some farm-cured ideas. [Read More]
Prairie Dogs, Tunnels, and Politics; Welcome to My World
Why is it that we are always so sure of ourselves, so convinced that we’re right, about everything, all the time? Why do we consistently act as if how we perceive the world is “the one truth” – the RIGHT way?
In Praise of a Quiet Life
The quiet life is about listening and attending to your existence and to that of the universe and spirit around you. It is about stilling the noise enough that you can hear. What you hear will depend on your singular vocation, your calling.
I don’t think so
The horses slipped through the small cracks in the crowd. They entered a few feet, then stopped and shifted around. Not sure what to do, surrounded so closely on all sides by quietly standing humans, the horses seemed deeply uncomfortable about stepping on people. They seemed to say to their riders, “What are you doing! You want me to hurt these people who have been petting my nose for the past month? No. I don’t think so.” [Read More]
One and One
Counting steps one
is open to chaos.
One ankle is sprained
feeding ducks before work.
Then glasses are squashed
during one lame hunt for
the perfect book to wow
a whitewater scholar.
Oregon
This is Oregon
Her coastline a tattered skirt torn from the sea
Stiff boots of stone propping
Up the dear old lady and baring legs of old-growth wood;
Her ferns are showing but she doesn’t mind if you look.
Watt’s Gospel at the Farmer’s Market
Stop and talk to Watt Childress (who founded this website) any day at Jupiter’s Books in Cannon Beach and you’ll hear the gospel of community. The good news that our community is full of talent and special people and that we have much to give each other if we would find ways to share. Upper […]
We are gathered
Beloved is the word
we share round
today’s wedding of
reader and poet.
We ring this word
hither and dear
with each waltz
into the microphone.
The epic silence of Iron Dad
Just think what Iron Dad could do. He would know exactly what to say to kids in every situation, no matter how hard. Goofball snafus would be replaced with laser-beam humor. His storytelling would never cease to amaze. Young audiences would be cheered by the knowledge that his wisdom could banish any bogeyman. [Read More]
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