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Posts Tagged ‘Christiana Peterson’

The Dangers and Promise of Radical Community

By Christiana PetersonMay 15, 2019

A solitary figure dressed in red appears on an empty road. A few seconds later, bodies (sometimes naked) writhe in ecstatic prayer incantations, shouting and gyrating. The piercing eyes of their guru, Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, twinkle as he bows to his red-clad disciples. When he speaks, his voice is soft, clipped and intense. These sporadic…

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Doorways to Death

By Christiana PetersonAugust 20, 2018

My house has doors built for death. When my husband and I first bought it a year ago, I won’t say I fell in love with it, but it felt like a place that could become a home. Built in the 1850s, the house has narrow stairways that appear in unexpected places and steps that…

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Between Death and Resurrection

By Christiana PetersonMay 24, 2018

And should you glimpse my wandering form out on the borderline Between death and resurrection and the council of the pines Do not worry for my comfort, do not sorrow for me so All your diamond tears will rise up and adorn the sky beside me when I go —“When I go,” lyrics by Dave…

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The Skirt of God

By Christiana PetersonApril 17, 2018

Dear Saint Francis, I imagined I saw you today out of the upstairs window. Your cowl had slipped off your head, and you were fighting uselessly with the wind to put it back up again. The recently fallen leaves around your feet likely understood the inevitability of your struggle. Your habit, patched and torn and…

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Trafficking in Fear

By Christiana PetersonMarch 19, 2018

I am chatting with a woman in a clothing store as our conversation moves from friendly small talk to the anxiety of raising children. My conversation partner, who is a few parenting years ahead of me, is lamenting dangers that now seem rampant for children, ones her preteen will face the closer she gets to…

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The Rhythm of Not Sleeping

By Christiana PetersonFebruary 22, 2018

I often rock my baby to sleep at the witching hour. These can be the hours when thoughts, either darkly vivid or hazily formed out of interrupted sleep, stray to mournful or anxious things. But on this night, my mind is pleasantly occupied with thoughts of my beloved grandmother who died a decade ago. My…

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A Hearth for Our Home

By Christiana PetersonJanuary 22, 2018

A week before Christmas my husband and I hired professionals to install a wood stove in the fireplace of the 150-year-old house we just bought.  All seemed well at the initial inspection, but when they began the job they found a chimney full of rusted nails, crumbling tiles, and a funny flue. They sent a…

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Disturbing the Silence: Part 2

By Christiana PetersonMay 9, 2017

Continued from yesterday. It’s not until my husband and I return from our getaway weekend and arrive home from the cabin to the Internet, to the noise of children, to the chaos of community life creeping in, that I find the space to read Wendell Berry’s poetry. This poem, in particular, resonates with me: How to…

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Disturbing the Silence: Part 1

By Christiana PetersonMay 8, 2017

The cabin where my husband and I are having a weekend getaway is on the border of Wisconsin, on the lip of a rustic lake where two canoes stick out of the water like discolored buckteeth. They are tipped upside down at the crook of a thin tilted dock. When my husband turns one of…

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God is a Wild Old Dog

By Christiana N. PetersonApril 12, 2017

God is a wild old dog / Someone left out on the highway —Patty Griffin “Wild Old Dog” It is the first week of spring and I sit in the small cemetery on our community property. The bench underneath me is green and mossy from the confusion of a mild winter that left us with…

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