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Sundog StoriesEpisodes
Episodes of Sundog Stories
Mark All
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Shoji screens are made of translucent Japanese paper panels that lightly separate spaces. The screens form a thin divide between the outside and the inside world, yet intimately connect the spaces by transmitting light and shadow, sound and
One afternoon my husband and I were greeted by a robed, toothless, wild haired monk under the tall arches of a crumbling monastery. He hugged us, again and again, would not let go, pointed at my eyes, then his, then the sky: azul, azul. Blue,
"Trees warp time, or rather create a variety of times: here dense and abrupt, there calm and sinuous ." John FowlesTemagami Time is about our relationship with time.
This Yoga Nidra has you observe the rising and falling of awareness.
Cold Cellar is about flat coke, woolen socks and our habits and hankerings for more.
This Yoga Nidra practice takes you down a steep path to the edge of an ocean (accompaniment by loud spring birds).
The Musquiem people have a word that means “things that are hidden”. The word is used to describe sacred objects, often ceremonial, that are thought to possess supernatural powers. These objects are not simply art or functional things, they e
This Yoga Nidra practice will take you on a slow walk through the forest, on a winter night.
On my way back down I heard the ringing of copper bells that led the way, brought to life by long ropes pulled by passers by. And beside the entrance I now saw, what in the early darkness I had missed: the brightly painted Lord Ganesh, god of
On my way back down I heard the ringing of copper bells that led the way, brought to life by long ropes pulled by passers by. And beside the entrance I now saw, what in the early darkness I had missed: the brightly painted Lord Ganesh, god of
Sleep of Reason is about rules, and sometimes breaking them.
Years ago I broke a pale yellow water pitcher that I’d received from a close childhood friend. We’d lost our connection but I kept the shards in a drawer, feeling pangs of regret and guilt for my carelessness. I asked my mom how I might fix t
This past summer we explored a distant part of Lake Cabonga, an immense reservoir that was created when lakes were dammed and flooded many years ago. What was once a part of light, now lives submerged beneath the surface of the lake.Levels of
In October 1979 my family emigrated from our small town in Switzerland. The story is about that time, Canadian lunch boxes, and crossing disorienting gaps.
When we rounded the corner of a large island the wind struck us. The lake changed to emerald green, then black, darkening clouds were encircled by light, and within minutes the lake was boiling.Lake Cabonga is about a bumpy canoe trip, fear, f
She sat down and told us that when she was a small girl, growing up in Eastern Europe, she too had warts on her feet. Her mother took her to see a wise woman in the village, who told her to take a bite out of an apple and bury it under the next
According to legend, some years ago, a powerful gust of wind ripped the net out of the clutches of the farm hands, lifted the long filmy white tail high into the stormy sky, across and beyond the hedgerows, and over the coolness of the darkly
I had heard that cats bring dead, or half dead mice, to their human owners to teach them how to hunt. Given our lack of responsive learning, I have always been impressed by Lola’s patience, her unwillingness to give up on us. But recently I ca
300 hundred years ago, one of my ancestors sat at his desk at night, in the house in which we both grew up, and copied out strange words and spells and symbols. The many pages show how threatened and insecure people were in their life on earth,
Here is a full length Yoga Nidra about midsummer walk along an early evening shoreline, recorded in a canoe on a lake. Listen for the loon.
Last winter a man I met in a small northern community told me that when he was young he would hunt for Caribou with his uncle. One evening, at dusk, he watched as thousands of the large lumbering animals moved not as one, but swirled in all dir
In the middle of the night, I will sometimes wake up in our small orange tent to listen to my growing seeds of doubt, will trace their shaping forms in my mind, will question the what ifs that lurk nearby.
Of course there is no guarantee that change, and the stirrings of a thousand earthworms will restore life, there is always the chance that it won't. Life is not predictable and it might not end as happily as you once hoped. Nonetheless, even if
I have been frightened by a lot of things in life, and given my rather wild imagination, fear of the unknown is one of my favorite ones, keeps me up at night; although of course, there are plenty of other shapely warnings all around, hinted at
I thought about a message an old high school friend recently sent to me. He’d been trail running through the woods, and found himself on a bed of feathers. In my imagination I saw hundreds of molting birds, shaking their soft wings. But no, he
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