Jim Taylor

Taylor: We keep trying to make something out of nothing

We humans can’t not think of something; we can only think of something else.

Taylor: When long-vanished memories come flying back

How does a chemical reaction produce conscious thought? How can stored memories metamorphose themselves into an entirely new thought?

Taylor: Seeing bigger picture in a tiny fragment

All these people had one thing in common—an ability to look at the part and see the whole.

Taylor: Unexpected glimpse of the gender of God

Suddenly, unexpectedly, I felt warm, comfortable, as if I had been wrapped in loving arms.

Taylor: Breath of life makes me one with the universe

Every creature, from the smallest to largest, draws energy from the atmosphere and exhales its waste back into the atmosphere.

Taylor: Would I go back to my brash, pimply youth?

When I was 21 I was abominably fit, was awarded for outstanding athletic achievements NS had lead roles in the Players’ Club

Taylor: No simple way to communicate with fancy devices

We don’t go around smashing cell phones, smart meters and mobile apps. We just tend not to use them.

Taylor: Heretical idea: The Bible can be wrong

If you're wearing a garment made of different materials, you’re violating a divine instruction.

Taylor: There’s a brief intimacy in shared glances

Do you know the difference between a small town and a big city? It’s in the eyes.

Taylor: When our words are just not enough

Arnie Schreder was a legend throughout Northern Canada—a bush pilot, an instructor, a mentor.

Taylor: Exploring apparent evolutionary dead ends

The hummingbirds are back. Probably two pair of them, although I’m not quick enough to identify individual features.

Taylor: Weeds are all the fault of Adam and Eve

On the first truly warm day of spring in this part of the continent, I went out weeding my garden.

Taylor: Prayer does not depend on passwords

Every time I wake up my computer, it asks for my password.

Taylor: Ancient flumes that transport wisdom through time

My daughter lives in a small cluster of houses in a little valley nestled into a fold in a series of arid hills cloaked in sagebrush.

Taylor: Finding freedom by figuring it out yourself

Lessons to be learned from a dog who seems to learn from his own mistakes.

Taylor: There comes a time of no turning back

There comes a moment, when you go whitewater rafting down a turbulent river, when you can’t turn back.

Taylor: The loneliness of the non-conformist

In the garden, rhubarb thrusts up through last year’s rotting leaves.

Taylor: The many faces of love, devine and otherwise

In his song Taxi, the late Harry Chapin sings that he “learned about love in the back of a Dodge…”

Taylor: We are all slaves to some sort of obsessions

Joey the cat stands on his hind legs, raking his claws against our deck window, demanding to come in.

Taylor: Epiphany when invisible becomes apparent

Hoarfrost came down the other night. No, that’s not quite correct. Snow comes down—hoarfrost just appears.