I obtained a copy of one of the great works of Asian literature to enlarge my appreciation of the Taoist sensibility of life and world. Nowadays, fragmentation, seemingly intractable polarization demands that common ground be found. Is any synthesis upon which enough of us can stand together possible? Drown if you must. Do not…
The air is cool, cleansed by a day of rain. I do not remember the last time of a full day of rain. Rain comes infrequently, as if nature is diffident, inattentive to the thirst of plants and creatures living on a thin crust of the earth. Another consequence of climate warming, perhaps? Heat…
Monday brings the prospect of rain. Weeks without precipitation and the grass is dormant, the shrubs appear thirsty and dull at the end of a growing season. Some trees are shedding leaves, without any retrograde movement of temperature thus far. Does anyone pray for rain? I know that my grandfather did. Granddad owned a…
In the after-dawn hour of 6AM I fell back to sleep. As sometime happens I dreamed a nightmare. The dream “experience” was real enough then. Upon waking what I dreamed seemed as if an extension of my life. I dreamed that a post, my comments on social media had provoked outrage from one person…
Gary Wright has died. On Monday September 4th Wright passed after some years struggle with illness. From 1976 do you remember The Dream Weaver? Here is what Billboard wrote about Wright: The Dream Weaver, released in the summer of 1975, peaked at No. 7 on the Billboard 200 album charts in April 1976, with…
Unteregehen – going down, drowning, to perish It’s Friday, early September with a hint the Fall soon to come. Things in time reocurr, over and over. Time is infinite, an open ended flow. But “things” in time are bounded by circumstance, arise and come to be and then dissipate. You could become depressed if…
Paradise is a state of mind and heart. It’s engagement with no separation between the texture, aroma, touch, and echo of one’s passion — and you, the agent. Paradise is a time and place of sublime union with what you’ve learned to love. Paradise is temporary, a rare interlude, a magical concatenation… Paradise has…
Feeling empty this morning. What is to be said/written? The coffee is hot and astringent. The traffic outside the front window at Starbucks rushes by upon it’s metaled ways. There’s the look of rain in the gray clouds. Time will tell how much we will receive. Hot, dry weather has persisted. Vegetation is thirsty…
It is Tuesday, the day after Labor Day. My mind is in a fog, and I have no desire to catch up on the morning’s news. The sun streams from the east over the Fox River and it stands to be another warm day. It is not yet astronomical Fall, the season of summer…
Today is Labor Day. Monday a day of respite from work. Work is the joint enterprise to sustain ourselves, to build shelter, cultivate, to transport, to prepare food. Also, work is essential to fashion a place of safety, a refuge that is “home.” I am reading Lord of the Flies by William Golding. I…
