In a swamp, as in meditation, you begin to glimpse how elusive, how inherently insubstantial, how fleeting our thoughts are, our identities. There is magic in this moist world, in how the mind lets go, slips into sleepy water, circles… — Barbara Hurd Copy Share Image
Silence arrests flight, so that in its refuge, the need to flee the chaos of noise diminishes. We let the world creep closer, we drop to our knees, as if to let the heart, like a small animal, get its… — Barbara Hurd Copy Share Image
To love a swamp, however, is to love what is muted and marginal, what exists in the shadows, what shoulders its way out of… — Barbara Hurd Copy Share Image
Things in the margins, including humans who wander there, are often on the brink of becoming someone else, or something else, whose memory may… — Barbara Hurd Copy Share Image
In a swamp, as in meditation, you begin to glimpse how elusive, how inherently insubstantial, how fleeting our thoughts are, our identities. There is… — Barbara Hurd Copy Share Image
Silence arrests flight, so that in its refuge, the need to flee the chaos of noise diminishes. We let the world creep closer, we… — Barbara Hurd Copy Share Image
going into a cave might be like going inside one's own mind, crawling around in the pitch-black, nook-and-crannied labyrinth of the human psyche. — Barbara Hurd Copy Share Image
caves so often symbolize rebirth. It's a hidden space, an expected, inscrutable space. Strange things live in there - eyeless salamanders, albino fish, a… — Barbara Hurd Copy Share Image
