Author: Michael Stevens

The Dharma Center is steward of a two mile section in the adopt-a-highway program. Our stretch of route 20 is located east of Bend, and we make an annual pilgrimage there to clean up...

Quite early this morning, before the city awakens to its busyness, I begin wandering about outside and start touching things. I am compelled by a strange urge to explore beyond static labels and each...

The trail to Chimney Rock winds through a dry canyon toward a basalt outcrop overlooking the Crooked River. The ‘chimney’ is an eroded bit of a larger basalt formation, part of a number of...

It is funny how my mind peers through the filter of my assumptions. Like that toilet paper strewn about on an undeveloped parcel of land near my home. You would think people would be...

The Painted Hills unit of Fossil Beds National Monument seems to be an anomaly in an otherwise grey/black terrain. Dark basalt flows give way to bright horizontal bands of alternating red and ochre clays...

This morning, three volcanic mountain peaks are adorned with white shrouds of winter snow tinged pink with the fire of alpenglow. They are clustered together like alpine siblings floating upon a cushion of low...

People say there are no atheists in foxholes. A lot of people think this is a good argument against atheism. Personally, I think it’s a much better argument against foxholes.  Kurt Vonnegut The ego...

I once had a dream in which I descended a steep trail to the deepest part of a canyon. The atmosphere was eerie—a kind of deadness where no sound could penetrate. I climbed around...

Winter arrived late this year. As Spring attempts her debut, snow squalls intermittently cover the ground in a frosty white. Yet, a few hardy plants do not care much about what is going on...

I stand on a narrow basalt saddle far above an unnamed moraine lake overshadowed by the craggy slopes of Broken Top. My view toward the Three Sisters volcanoes is totally unobstructed. Vast space swallows...