I do not know if that is a word. The thought is to be in and of “the wild.” Nature is alive, undomesticated, responsive to the presence of humans: physical expressions of our institutions such as roads and buildings, our consumptive way of life, garbage dumps, the oceans loaded with plastic run-off of industry. …
This is one of those mornings when I have nothing to say. A new day, when nothing seems especially new about it. I know, I simply need to shift the axis of my point of view. I have made that move before, and felt something in the depths which I dare not say or…
It is Saturday morning. I awakened early, around 5AM I suppose. The nightmare caused me to grasp for consciousness. I no longer remember any details. A feeling of dread lingers though. The vision in some form is likely to return. It is there in the nether regions of the unconscious. What fear is the…
Friday dawns cool and sunny, typical of spring here in the Midwest. Of the projects in mind for today: a morning Zoom session to hear our grandson, a new author present his story of a visit to the zoo. I will be privileged to witness his reading of the story. He is six years…
The two modes of thought present radically opposed projects: one hopes to reveal the objective reality of this world but wants to be a distinct thought; the other seeks to restore an illusion, of which it is an integral part. One seeks a total gravitation, a concentric effect of meaning. The other seeks to…
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…
