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Thursday
Sep092010

Sowing and Reaping

The first year that Jeremy planted his garden, I ruined it. My husband, a self-employed musician, had painstakingly raised tomato plants from tiny seeds bought at our local hardware store. He’d been envisioning a bountiful vegetable garden ever since we moved from our house near downtown Nashville to the smaller rural community of Kingston Springs.

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Thursday
Sep092010

A Walking Contradiction, Part Two

I have a friend who wryly describes herself as a bad Buddhist.  This makes me smile.  I think of Dustin Hoffman’s character in the film Little Big Man and the many vocations he pursued over a lifetime: Caucasian Cherokee, drunk, gunslinger, muleskinner, liar, and more.  With each one he describes his performance as horribly lacking.  Can you hear the actor’s voice?  I was a horrible drunk.  I was a horrible liar.  Well, I was a horrible Zen Buddhist.

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Thursday
Aug262010

It All Began with Two Simple Questions

We stayed like that, just sitting in the tropical moonlight, for a long time. I couldn’t help but compare the peacefulness of the night air with the busyness of our lives back home. So rarely did we have time to stop and think, to discuss the big questions of life. Our conversation rambled from art and music, to books we were reading, to the state of the world.

And then I asked two questions that would change our lives forever.

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Thursday
Aug262010

The Epistemology of Love

The dreams and debates of modernity, cascading as they are into postmodernity, are always at the heart of the human condition. It cannot be otherwise, as we are never more and never less than sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. So we take our place as folks who long to love and to be loved. Percy understood that with an unusual eye: historically, philosophically, psychologically, politically, and, yes, theologically, seeing the complexity for Everyman and Everywoman. We want love, yet we also know how hard it is to love and to be loved.

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Thursday
Aug262010

Three Sanctuaries

Whenever I walk towards the austere building, I’m struck anew by the genius of its placement in a cozy neighborhood where people live, the true life of a city. The idea of sanctuary comes alive between the quiet streets. I’m soothed under the shade of old, twisting oak trees. I take refuge from the sweltering Texas sun by snagging a bench under the high, undulating awnings outside, or by opening a tall glass door to the Menil itself, flowing with cool air and natural light filtered by means of louvers, skylights, and massive windows.

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