A Christmas Eve Contemplation – What We Don’t See

by Christina Carson In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking: Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage. So goes the Bible in the traditional Christmas story. A far more mystical account of these men and their star-led journey is preserved in an eighth-century C.E. Syriac manuscript...

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What’s that Tug I Feel

by Christina Carson NPR was playing on my car radio, a rarity in itself as I prefer the car quiet, yet what a stroke of fortune that I did tune in that day. Not one, but two different bits of programming that fascinated me were broadcast in the short time it took to deliver photos to some of our clients. The woman’s voice that caught my attention initially was that of a native from Fort Peck Reservation in northwestern Montana, home to...

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Silky, Smooth and Fine -Clifford Brown Jazz

by Christina Carson While I was rambling through past blog posts of “The Head Butler” the other day, I bit on one with the byline: Odds are you never heard of him… Well the Butler was right, I hadn’t heard of Clifford Brown, even though he was born just down the pike from me in Wilmington, Delaware. So I took the Butler up on his challenge that were I to listen to this unknown jazz musician, I’d have the edges knocked...

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Finding Balance, Rocky or Not

by Christina Carson When my dear friend, Ralph Miller, sent this url, I sat consumed by the uncommon beauty I saw, the product of one man’s choice of how to occupy himself which ultimately led to evolving him spiritually. If you, dear reader, were to ask if I had a secret wish, I would say that I’d love to live in a world where more people made choices akin to Michael Grab’s. Look at where his curiosity about rock balance has...

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The Way of the Turtle

by Christina Carson I had an interesting experience on social media the other day. One episode of my serialized novel, Where it Began, rubbed someone the wrong way, hit them in a moment of frustration and provided the next best opportunity to rid themselves of a great deal of pent-up anger. One thing I enjoy about being older is that I am considerably more grounded than I was at that responder’s youthful age. I now have available a moment...

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Beware the Poet, Mary Oliver

by Christina Carson I’m probably preaching to the choir, but if there is one of you, those affirmed poetry haters, who sneaked into the back row over there on the end, please do take care. Mary Oliver could own your heart before you even have time to switch hats. You’ve been warned. In fact, I’m such a zealot, I think poetry, especially Mary Oliver, should be read to each baby as they eat their Pablum. Who knows, maybe...

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