Category: Arts

The Cub Who Would be Heard. {Creative Fiction}

By Don Ford   Down by the water’s edge, Mother Lion was washing her food in the cool water. Soon her young ones would be born. She knew she was carrying two babies, and so she was eating for three. Father Lion was away and Mother worried about him. Where could he have gone? Had bad men found him and taken him captive? The forest was especially quiet the morning Father Lion seemed to have disappeared. This was always a sign of danger. Even the usual sounds of birds from the many trees seemed silent on that day. Smaller...

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You Are the Everything. {Poetry}

  By Elizabeth Eilers Sullivan You are the sun and the moon and the rain and the sweet mist of dew rising off the morning grass. You are the melting mountain snow seeping into streams and coursing over rocks. You are the leaves and the trees and the limbs connected to the trunk rooted into the brown earth’s dirt rising up to the sky… You are the whispers of tomorrow and the beating of today and the story of yesteryear. You are all that was and will ever-be and the generous echoes of yes in a canyon’s sweet walls....

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We Who are Dark in Nature.

  By Jessica Rigney A young child drowns and a family is left shattered and grasping. There is something to offer, we hope—those of us who watch from the outside; and we are outside. This thing that has happened, has not happened to us. It has happened to this small family. It is mentioned to me that the living sibling spends much of her time with books. She likes to write and is quite perceptive and sensitive. And can you? Will you? Think of something which can be given to her? I am a dark one. It is no secret...

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Breakfast in a Cloud. {Creative Fiction}

  By Karl Saliter While Nepal changed her, Yeumi changed out of her pajamas, loose-fitting cotton drawstring pants that had been yoga pants for a couple of years—-and were now covered in patches—some sewn on by her, some by dear friends. Her pack, her pants, even her Kindle; there were objects all around her covered with memories. But this morning, she was less aware of them than an underground stone is of the stars. So she simply hoisted her pack, strapped herself in, and hit the walking highway of well-placed stones. On her way up, large groups of tourists...

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A Space for My Heart to Bloom.

    By Sarah Harvey I unroll my turquoise yoga mat and smile like a kid with a triple-scoop ice cream cone. I gaze lovingly at this newly created just-for-yoga, just-for-me space and feel this unparalleled sense of satisfaction. My cells are buzzing. Euphoric waves of comfort and creativity pulse through me, softly moving me towards a sweet second of surrender. One look at the carefully placed artwork on the formerly plain, peeling walls brings me to my knees. I fall to my mat and bow inward, towards myself. At first I tremble, overwhelmed with vulnerability, paralyzed with fear. But, I stay...

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Buddhism For Dudes

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