Archives for category: still bright foilage


I’m about to have a son. Any day now, actually. Posting on Weatherspoon daily has been a good exercise for me, and I’ve been proud to stick with this tiny ritual for more than a year now. But I’m going to take a break for a bit, and then I’m planning to write with less regularity while life re-sets itself.

In a few minutes I’m sitting down to eat wintry things, getting my body ready for what’s ahead. It’s like this whole new color will get invented as soon as he’s born, and I can’t begin to see it now because nobody but God imagines colors. But soon everything will have this tint and it will filter over my clothes, water, the soles of my shoes.

And the way life feels different between summer and winter will be a really old feeling, because now I’ll have this kid, and this hue, and everything everywhere will be like leaves pressed in books and lost for awhile.

Last night I dreamt about a sort-of cabinet of natural curiosities. I was working in a store that had this large wooden case with lots of tiny drawers and shelves, and inside each one was something different. Snail shells, dollar store junk, bitter scrolls that taste like honey. Then I woke up and imagined a grand life’s work of building a cabinet like an ark around your whole living room and filling each drawer with something small and loving.

I love this MoMA interactive site from their exhibition Paper: Pressed, Stained, Slashed, Folded. So simple it’s genius. Check it out here.


The very hyped reproduction of Jung’s Red Book, retailing for $300, is both overblown and out of range. But something about the whole process; discovering a hidden masterpiece from a vault in Zurich and the scanning and preservation of the work before publishing really appeal to me:


Buy Olympia’s office/warehouse space in Portland:


Some Christians say that Christ mysteriously hovers around the bread and wine (if you’re not, say, Catholic or Lutheran or Episcopal or Eastern Orthodox) but doesn’t embody it. But if you are Catholic or the like, you probably believe that Christ actually hops into each loaf and bottle after being blessed, literally embodying the elements.

I went to a Lutheran high school and got in a fight with Mr. LeBow, my history teacher, in the middle of class one day about this. Why shouldn’t any true believer be allowed to take communion with any church body? That confused me to pieces. It’s because, according to Mr. LeBow, if I did I might be damning myself as an unconfirmed member of his church that believes Christ isn’t a symbol in the wine and bread, but the actual bloody wine and fleshy bread. When he said that my cheeks turned red hot. I was an outsider right then, at that school, when the whole reason I took Jesus in my heart is because I believe he wants everyone in his.

And I still believe that if Jesus is real, of course he can swoop over thousands of stale loaves, millions of tiny pale biscuits each Sunday and make them body. And even though I’m sure he prefers turning wine into blood he can do it to tiny plastic grape juice cups, too. It’s like every Sunday a million miles of his veins and skin covers the whole planet, turning us into something else entirely cooler and more hopeful than we realize.