A Selection fromĀ Seasons of Contemplation: A Book of Midnight Meditations


The cure for what ails is not to be found in a capsule. Our renewal must instead come from within. Synthetics are administered to the body yet they cannot reinforce the heart or re-weave the fibers of the fraying mind.

The cure for our modern maladies is dirt under the fingernails, and the feel of cool grass between the toes. The cure for our listlessness is to be out within the invigorating wind. The cure for our uselessness is to take up our stewardship of the earth; for it is not that there has been no work to be done, we simply have not been attending to it.

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