Author: Michael Stevens

On this early January day, I am hiking in the juniper-dotted hills near the southern reach of the John Day Formation. Here, sandy desert soil intermingles with patches of red clay and winter moisture...

I sit here with nothing particular on my mind. I just enjoyed a small bowl of beet green soup and feel my satisfied body soaking up the deliciously simple nutrition. I think to myself,...

On this cold crisp morning, the sky reveals an unmistakable frosty blue hue of winter. The solstice dawns once again as the seasons march on in an infinite circle—always repeating yet never the same....

This morning the thermometer reads eleven degrees. Outside, the sun is making an effort to burn through fog formed in a stubborn atmospheric inversion—a condition in which cold air is trapped by a higher...

One of the profound practices of the Buddhist tradition is to view all beings as if they were our parents in a past lifetime. We vow to repay their kindness. I am often asked...

It is said that repetition is more powerful than truth. What we repeat to ourselves, we will believe—even if it is a lie. We currently have a social media that is based upon repeating...

I think my mom is enlightened. She has dementia. The juxtaposition of these two statements might appear rather odd, but I am quite serious—in a way. Mom is in the moment. She only responds...

The fundamental mystery of the universe cannot be reduced to words. Mystery is like that. In Buddhist teachings we come across a mysterious word: emptiness. In the Sanskrit language the word is Śūnyatā. Śūnya...

I am hiking near a lake in the Cascade Mountains, meandering through a maze of deep cracks in the surrounding basalt flows. The trail emerges from the rocks and climbs to a knoll the...

The horizon is clear on the Oregon coast today. Blue sky meets a vast gray-green ocean without a perceptible dividing line. Terns fly inches above the surf as waves roll in, gently caressing the...