There are people holding out on the toughest frontiers of existence, surrounded by misery, yet sustained by beauty. A thoughtful essay that meditates on the question: How can we be more alive to the presence of beauty and transcend conflict?
Our executive editor's weekly missive: a season of autumn invitations, a thoughtful essay on male friendship, confessions of an accidental feminist, a joyful contemplation on being Mormon in the modern world, and an unexpected moment of generosity.
How many of us are ready to step into the gaze of someone — including ourselves — who sees us as we really are?
Autumn reminds our Quaker columnist about the beauty of the Earth and the death that is to come. Through the words of Rilke, an exploration of the wellspring of gratitude.
With the recent news about the universe's origins, why are we struck dumb with awe and the nature of magnificence? A guest commentary on our deepest impulses.
A stunning full moon cradles a highline walker at Cathedral Peak. Bliss, beauty, and exhilaration at once.
My last two years in Brooklyn I felt fortunate to have the view I did. My windows faced east, and, although the blank wall of another building loomed large directly in front, to the right grew a luscious tree and above was an unobstructed view of sky. I often woke at dawn and would stand on the fire escape and soak in the morning, while it still felt clear and clean.
Rita Patel offers this wonderful story from architect Christopher Alexander about a Japanese man and his fish pond that's a way of being to remember and make a habit.
Before I arrived here in snowy St. Paul, not very long ago, I was living in Venice, Italy, sharing a two-bedroom apartment in the old Castello neighborhood with a scientist of sperm whale sound and a landscape architect. I worked days at the Peggy Guggenheim Collection in Palazzo Venier Dei Leoni on the Grand Canal, cleaning the base below the Calder mobile, washing the windows, selling tickets, and guarding rooms in which hung paintings by Picasso, Braque, Mondrian, Severini, Miro, and Pollock. Doing a boring job in a beautiful place is one of the greatest opportunities for meditation I have had, and I spent many hours comparing Mondrian’s The Sea to the ripples on the canal outside the wrought iron grated windows.