• Tricycle Community 5 comments

    A Floating Sangha Takes Root Paid Member

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    Honorable Harvest Paid Member

    Over the last year I have been immersed in the study of a beautifully written book, Braiding Sweetgrass, which is dedicated to the plaiting together of supple strands of indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge, and the teachings of plants. The author of this book, Robin Wall Kimmerer, is an enrolled member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation and a trained botanist and Distinguished Teaching Professor at New York’s SUNY College of Environmental Science and Forestry. More »
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    Seventeen Syllable Medicine Paid Member

    Waking up in the long indigo shadow of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, my heart is granite. A beloved dharma sister and deep writing friend of 30 years has been diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia and has just entered an intensive treatment program at the Christus St. Vincent Regional Cancer Center of Northern New Mexico. I have come to keep her company for a week. Outside her home, the first honey blonde columbine of summer push into bloom, a glory I am too numb to celebrate. More »
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    New Saplings, Old Ground Paid Member

    In early winter of this year, shortly after the Buddha’s parinirvana ceremony, a special memorial service was convened in the Green Gulch garden to honor a few venerable fruit trees entering their early dotage. Covered with leathery lichen and scaly tufts of moss, these noble trees had ceased to bear fruit and were soon to be replaced. I imagined the warm purr of a chainsaw in their immediate future. Since I had planted most of these elders more than 30 years ago, I was now invited to celebrate their demise. More »
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    The Three Friends of Winter Paid Member

    Before daybreak the threshold gate leading into our coastal garden is etched with hoarfrost. The vast star river of the December Milky Way flows in solemn grandeur across the sky. In the garden, the Three Friends of Winter—pine for strength, bamboo for flexibility, and plum for the flowering and fading of beauty—are lit by pale tides of starlight. More »
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    Old Man's Beard Paid Member

    November wind sweeps the dregs of autumn over the rim of the world. The last hag apples of the season hang on naked branches above the reek of fermented fruit. Low on the haunches of the year, rotting cabbage is dug back into bittersweet dirt. The harvest is gathered in a shady cellar. Burgundy braids of soft-necked garlic, baskets of Iroquois white corn, and blind-eyed seed potatoes dream in the dark. More »