Phillip Berry | Orient Yourself

Time, flowing like a river Time, beckoning me Who knows when We shall meet again, if ever But time keeps flowing Like a river to the sea From Time by Alan parson Jumping into the warm pool yesterday, I felt like I had stepped into a stream which had stopped. This was the grip of a moment…a moment I knew would slip through my fingers as all do, but sat freeze-framed for the split second of th...

Earlier this week, market strategist and geo-political commentator, John Singer, released an essay entitled Losing the Plot . He opens the piece with a story about a young woman posing in sultry fashion for a photo while sitting on the train tracks that run directly into Auschwitz, the Nazi death camp where over a million people were murdered during World War II. “The woman is lying on the t...

Can you remember a time when you walked on this earth unencumbered with self-consciousness? A moment when you dressed, spoke, played, danced, laughed, or raged without concern for appearance, judgment, or consequence? For most reading this, the answer is “no, I cannot,” because you were probably 3 or 4 years old. The three-year-old is absolutely consumed with self: it’s all about...

During a long drive about two weeks ago, the song Changes , by David Bowie, came on the radio. Bowie and his music have been on my mind ever-since. It’s kind of odd, I wouldn’t necessarily call myself a fan. Released in 1972, neither the song nor Bowie were a household music staple in my youth. His 1983 album, Let’s Dance burst into my musical world through his iconic MTV debut v...

As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame; As tumbled over rim in roundy wells Stones ring; like each tucked string tells, each hung bell’s Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name; Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Deals out that being indoors each one dwells; Selves — goes itself; myself it speaks and spells, Crying Whát I dó is me: for that I came. We’...

In the 2021 movie, Dune: Part I , the young Paul Atreides submits to the Gom Jabbar , a test administered by the leader of an order of semi-mystical priestesses. In the test, he must put his hand inside a small black box while the priestess holds a poison-laced needle near his neck; the test is to see whether or not he can keep his hand in the box as it heats up to excruciating levels of pain. Rem...

During the preceding week, a flurry of thank you cards found their way to our house. Apparently, some of our grandchildren found them to be a great canvas for artwork, practicing writing their letters and words, testing new metallic markers, and for actually writing “thank you” note. Some of these envelopes were hand delivered in a running, pony express, across our backyard and some fo...

This Memorial Day week-end seems like an appropriate time for a brief reflection on fear as we remember those who “ gave the last full measure of devotion .” Anyone spending a few honest moments at one of our war memorials cannot help but feel the frightening awe and gravity of the “ultimate sacrifice.” Because of such sacrifices, most of us will never know the fear and dou...

Sometimes I feel I might touch eternity – Lewis tells me that now Is its closest point. from Resonant Tension , Phillip Berry In a note to me last year, my sister called me a “serial reflectionist.” Not long afterward, I started a post with the title above and stopped after the first paragraph. I decided that I needed a bit more reflection before engaging with my sister’s creativ...

The Basilica was dark. Drawn to the nondescript exterior by the striking blue doors, we walked-in to what felt like the thousandth church that day. It was a comfortable day in Rome and the sun was beginning to set, casting shadows across the piazza and darkening the narrow, cobblestone alleys that formed the seemingly endless labyrinth of this old city. A caretake emerged from the dark, seeming so...