Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Sometimes life takes you to a place where the noise of your mind and the motion of life seem to come to a halt. Where you feel the brilliant mass of the earth beneath your feet supporting you and the wind in your ears singing you songs of life and death.

    At the Red Dunes my feet sunk deep into the sand. The ripples on the dunes seemed to be drawn by the paintbrushes of the Greats. Perfect. I watched the indent of each footprint carefully as I climbed, like a child who has dipped her feet in paint and looks eagerly at each step she takes. The grains whipped around my ankles, beating themselves against each other in their never ending struggle to be smaller. Grains of time. Witnesses to all.

    Arching itself above me, the powerful yellow warmth called out my name and stroked my skin. I thought of its brilliance. Great giver of light and nourishment to all things. We, the simple grains of life who live from it.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.