Sterling Terrell

recovering economist

We Are Strangers

We Are Strangers

In many ways, we are strangers to much of this world.

As a housefly is a flicker to us, we are a flicker to so much more.

We are a puff of warm air, indeed.

The thing you have ask yourself is if you can swallow the implications of this.

Although this passage is about trees, it reminds me of this passage on mountains.

For the trees, after all, stand silent too.

Trees are tough. They last, taproot and bark, and we soften at their feet. “For we are strangers before thee, and sojourners, as were all our fathers: our days on the earth are as a shadow, and there is none abiding.” We can’t take the lightning, the scourge of high places and rare airs. But we can take the light, the reflected light that shines up the valleys on creeks. Trees stir memories; live waters heal them.

-Annie Dillard, Pilgrim At Tinker Creek

Small Details, Don’t Blink

Small Details, Don’t Blink

Let’s agree to not miss the small details, ok?

There will always be big themes and chapters of our lives, but maybe much of the beauty is found in the fleeting particulars.

If you, and I, do not slow down, purposefully observe, and document some of it, I am afraid we are in danger of unconsciously walking right over it.

  • I hope I remember what it felt like to walk through my grandparent’s house.
  • I hope I pay attention to how the sunlight feels on my next beach trip.
  • And I hope I remember what the rose smelled like that I gave my daughters on Valentine’s Day this year.

Good-grief. What small details have we already missed?

Don’t blink.

But if I want to notice the lesser cataclysms of valley life, I have to maintain in my head a running description of the present. It’s not that I’m observant; it’s just that I talk too much. Otherwise, especially in a strange place, I’ll never know what’s happening. Like a blind man at the ball game, I need a radio.

-Annie Dillard, Pilgrim At Tinker Creek

Sterling Terrell