By Steve Warm What had been a routine game of tennis with a close friend became something else. I didn’t have the slightest idea at the time, but decades later I realized it was an example of what countless people search for all their lives. Suddenly, all I saw was the ball and my tennis racket with my extended right arm and hand effortlessly moving the racket and hitting the ball. My body was somehow making all the right moves as the ball was pummeled toward the net, but I w

Words are echoes in an endless hall, Each one leaning on the next for meaning, Spinning a web of circularity— A mirage of clarity in the...

I flogged myself with words today, And wrung frustrated tears of time; Each notion forging work from play With armoured tales of...

In this space, in this very directness This raw immediacy, there's no destination, No journey to embark upon, Just a gathering of...