Easter morning. I awakened early so that I could write this. Family members are to arrive around eleven, and preparations will be made beforehand. I will not be rushing off to Easter worship services this morning. That’s not to say that I do not believe in resurrection. I do. Just not the crude, atavistic…
Like everyone who views Endgame by Samuel Beckett, I am haunted by the production. Coincidentally today happens to be my birthday. Haunted, troubled by a theatrical production on my birthday. I suppose that is no coincidence when you consider that life is nothing but a production; just a succession of roles that must be…
The Tragedy and the Paradox of Greek Civilization by Vincent Kavaloski They are old Dead White Males,Embarrassing in their political incorrectness.They built their greatness on slavery,They were patriarchal and sexist to the core,They idealized the warrior, and warredIncessantly. They could be cruel and oftenDespised mercy as weakness.And yet – and yetWe are still fascinated…
Late Lament Breathe deep the gathering gloom,Watch lights fade from every room.Bedsitter people look back and lament,Another day’s useless energy spent. Impassioned lovers wrestle as one,Lonely man cries for love and has none.New mother picks up and suckles her son,Senior citizens wish they were young. Cold hearted orb that rules the night,Removes the colours…
On St. Patrick’s Day I am a one-eyed leprechaun! I write this entry late in the day with a patch over one eye. This morning quite early I received surgery on my left eye. The treatment to my retina promises to improve my vision. For now though, until the followup visit with the physician…
Our philosophy discussion group convened virtually last night , via zoom video. We discussed an essay by Olufemi O Taiwo, a philosopher who teaches at Georgetown University. The Who Gets To Feel Secure essay treated the down-to-earth security that all human beings need in order to survive, to preserve their humanity. I mean the…
BURNT NORTON By T. S. Eliot Time present and time past Are both perhaps present in time future, And time future contained in time past. If all time is eternally present All time is unredeemable. What might have been is an abstraction Remaining a perpetual possibility Only in a world of speculation. What might…
I have no idea what to write. What do I/you want? (Che Vuoí?) That is the question. Do I know? Does anyone know? Usually I do not think about it. When I do, I realize how unsure I actually am, how torn, how tossed about by a confusion of inner voices. I offer a…
Saturday morning, I was beginning to dream a rather unpleasant series of visions of the up-and-coming 2nd impeachment trial of former President Trump. Sufficiently conscious to recognize that sleeping-in would probably mean additional images from the cellar of my consciousness, I got up. Today is sunny, still, and quite cold, 5 degrees in fact. …
LITTLE GIDDING (No. 4 of ‘Four Quartets’) I Midwinter spring is its own season Sempiternal though sodden towards sundown, Suspended in time, between pole and tropic. When the short day is brightest, with frost and fire, The brief sun flames the ice, on pond and ditches, In windless cold that is the heart’s heat,…
