Who I am.

I write about the landscape of grief, nature, and the wisdom of fools. The author of four books, my essays, poems, and reviews have been published in over 50 journals, including in the Huffington Post and Colorado Review. I’ve won the River Teeth Nonfiction Book Award, the Chautauqua and Literal Latte’s essay prizes, and my work has been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes and named a notable by Best American Essays. My account of hiking in Yosemite to deal with my wife’s death, Mountains of Light, was published by the University of Nebraska Press. http://www.markliebenow.com.

Showing posts with label Winter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Winter. Show all posts

Thursday, December 30, 2021

Winter's Light


 (We are currently in the middle of Christmastide, the liturgical season that runs from Christmas Eve to Epiphany Eve on January 5th.)

 

            When the year’s shadows are heaviest, when nights become long and cold, and feelings of self-doubt, despair, and death draw close, we light candles to push back the darkness that surrounds us. The flickering flames invite us to slow our busyness, set aside our fears, and open to everything that exists in this moment. 

 

            The twinkling of the stars, the bonfires in the backyard, and the strands of holiday lights on houses in our neighborhood remind us of people we loved who’ve died, dreams we tenaciously hang on to, and mentors whose wise guidance continues to help us find our way through life. The lights call us to reclaim the passions that stir our hearts with visions and imbue our lives with hope. 

 

Wednesday, December 30, 2020

Winter Prayer


 (I posted this earlier this year, but it’s still timely and needed. Photo taken by Marcia.)

 

 

Winter Prayer

 

 

In the turning of the natural world back towards light, may we so turn.

 

May we be grateful for what we have. 

and mindful of the widowed, the sick, the refugee, the battered, the abandoned. 

May we realize when we have enough and share the rest.

 

May we take risks and love without expecting anything in return. 

May we respond to others with compassion instead of judgment. 

May we sit with those who are hurting or lonely and be present.

 

Wednesday, December 18, 2019

Winter Reflection

The end of the year has come and work remains to be done, but many of us are tired.

May we walk slower today and breathe deeper.

As much as we love the holidays—the good food, good friends, and the festive music—they add on additional tasks. We want to remember why we take time to celebrate these special and holy days of people and nature.