I took a walk yesterday. A gray day, mid-January with a brisk breeze and thirty degrees. I walked 3rd Street in Geneva, the mind stimulated by visual and tactile sensation, — as I passed by restaurants “coming to life” in early afternoon. Reaching State Street, intending to purchase another cup of coffee from the…
The discussion touching on Platonic idealism was fascinating. Who is not captivated by an ideal, gleaming in transparent purity? I certainly am. Would I kill for an ideal? Or to put it more plainly would I commit murder to advance an ideal? I probably would, as many have. I am admittedly a standard issue…
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…
