As my peripatetic fate beckons once again, I have been drawn to the voice of Mary Oliver. She roamed and wandered in her region of the cosmos, but she was attentive, respectful, and caring as she did so. In her early poem "Going to Walden," she responded to people that told her she must go, … Continue reading Mary Oliver: Going to Walden
I am thankful when I find time to read to nurture my inner life. This semester, for sundry reasons, I have been engulfed in academic, political, and intellectual matters. It has been difficult to find time to read for nourishing the heart and cultivating the inner life that sustains all other vital affairs. I have … Continue reading Wagamese: Fortitude, Love and Longing
A new friend has arrived to enrich my life. Richard Wagamese is speaking to me from the pages of his Embers: One Ojibway's Meditations, a poetic photobook of vital philosophy. I have welcomed his arrival at La Libélula, a sacred land in Tárcoles, Puntarenas--sacred to me, at least, and to the animate beings that are … Continue reading Wagamese: Light
I have been gazing at the mosques of Istanbul--elegant, with grand semi-spherical domes and their lean minarets. These point heavenward, as if they could pierce the sky's grander azure dome. What do they mean, at least to me? One of Rumi's rubaiyat has given me the key to interpretation. They symbolize not ambition but liberation--that … Continue reading Rumi: Liberation
You walk among the spirits of flying dervishes and the whispers of their mystical joy on the anniversary of Rumi's death. How many lives have been loved, how many loves have been lived, how many flying hearts have turned and danced in his land since 17 December 1273? How many dances have been danced, how … Continue reading Rumi: Rubaiyat at Random
I have been biking to the piers at Sunset Park to read Siddhartha while facing the upper bay of the Hudson River's estuary. I knew that Siddhartha's encounter with the river would be the tale's most moving chapter for me. I wanted to prepare for it by contemplating, as I read, the ebb and flow … Continue reading Siddhartha by the River
Lao Tzu, Rumi, David, Emerson, Wordsworth, Gibran, and Mary Oliver have taught me, over the years, that I never finish reading a book of wisdom poetry. When I read the last psalm, song, or poem, I simply put the book down for a while--sometimes for a few years--until one day whim, genius, or spiritual thirst … Continue reading Mary Oliver: American Primitive
Daniel G. Campos 