I just finished reading The Phaedo written by Plato. The Phaedo, is a story that receives its title from the name of a friend of Socrates who is observer and auditor of the last hours of Socrates’ life. The last hours are spent in philosophical exchange with a circle of friends. Plato, a playwright…
On fire, the world was always on fire. It just depends on where you live. Can you smell smoke? See flames? Some of us run for our lives. And there’s a time when running is impossible, there is nowhere to run to. I tire of thinking about politics, which has become a reflex, —…
A twelve month segment of time. Time. a human made measure. Homo sapiens, aware of the 2nd law of thermodynamics, that everything processes toward dispersion of energy, dissipation of life-force if you will — so we measure. I wonder if we are the only mammal that consciously measures? What is twelve months by comparison…
Edward O. Wilson, Harvard professor for 46 years, pioneer of Evolutionary Biology died at age 92 this past Thursday. Wilson was born and raised in Alabama. As a boy he became interested in ants. At the age of 13 he was first to discover the presence of fire ants in the United States,…
Not much to say this morning. It is gray, raining. We need the rain. I am speaking for the vegetation, trees, grass, shrubs and everything really. Do we not all live by virtue of water? Blood is water. At the same time, too much water and a flood soon follows. Too much of anything…
Christmas day is different for each of us. One day of the year is laden with so many expectations. Some of those expectations are impossible, even if we understand them with better clarity. When I pause to consider, the hopes, the trepidation which a parent invests in a child, — as the years spool…
Soon, very soon the two year old in the house will awaken. Will she remember it is Christmas morning? This is the time! It is a point in time when she will begin to learn what the myth, what the tradition, what the practice of Christmas means. The meaning of Christmas cannot be reduced…
Yesterday the news came that Joan Didion died on Thursday. She was 87 years old. I did not know her personally, only through her collection of essays Slouching Toward Bethlehem. She wrote about the chaos of the 60s. Her writing electrified me, and made sense, in a primal way of the extremes that had…
Are there not many ways to think about, well everything? Certainly! Who would disagree. Several days ago, I posted a reflection about Christmas that was about change, about illusion, and about “reality.” At the time I wanted to tell a post-modern story of an event that has occurred for over two millennia. Early today when…
A high point of the holidays has been the Tuesday evening Zoom meetings of a group of friends for a discussion of ideas. I understand how unusual to recognize time spent on a Zoom virtual meeting to be agreeable, pleasurable. The past two sessions have been unusual as we’ve had nothing on the agenda,…
