the cloud of unknowing

I just finished When the Well Runs Dry: Prayer Beyond the Beginnings by Thomas Green. It felt like a St. John of the Cross and Teresa of Avila for dummies kind of book. He takes the parts of their writings and relates it to our spiritual lives today. He articulates the "dark night of the soul" in a way that made me say, starkly and dumbfoundedly, "that's me." He also writes about the cloud of unknowing, which was written by an Englishman from the 14th century. I created the art above before I had read that chapter, but I think it captures some of what he was talking about. God is both blessing and confusion, a cloud of unknowing. How do we pray to such a God? I thought you could wrestle with me over that question. And I hope the art invites you into that cloud of unknowing.

beauty au naturale

I've been trying to take more pictures lately, especially of beautiful things in nature. Nature calms me like warm tea on a chilly afternoon.

I sat under this tree on an unseasonably warm afternoon in Central Park, New York City. New Yorkers were out in full force, including a group of 6 year olds playing kick ball. I relaxed under that tree and just breathed in the city.





This is a rose from the Huntington Library, a place of peace and depth for me. Do you see the tiny drop in the leaves?



A sunset over the San Jose hills, the view from my apartment building. Some days, I forget that San Jose and northern California is such a beautiful place. (Just ignore those electrical lines!)



My dad just sent me these pictures from home. I went home to New Jersey in October, vainly trying to capture the autumnal leaves. But nature is on its own timeline. These are from mid-November! Next time, I should just go home for Thanksgiving. By the way, this is the house my family has lived in since I was 4!

an unedited poem

darkness touches life
blackening leaves
charring
curling fire
singeing
but He who is in me is greater than he who is in the world
(repeat)
and Light repairs the fragile spidery veins
growing back the leaf, the stem, the tree
until darkness is overwhelmed