Yard work can be considered a chore. So much in life depends upon the angle of view. Yard cleanup in the aftermath of winter is labor. That is a given. In contrast to mind-work, which ultimately ends with my fingers on this keyboard, staring at a glowing LCD screen, yard-work-done-right culminates with soil under…
Several days ago a good friend and I exchanged texts. He commented that he was his own worst enemy. That is no trite expression. How many ways subtle and not so subtle do we not undermine our own best interests? We may arrive at a place of utter helplessness, realizing that there is no…
This morning came and I woke feeling a body ache, and a malaise of spirit. I was fortunate to have passed the night without throwing up. My wife just now recovered from a brief but hard-hitting viral illness. One definition of misery is to be retching into a toilet. So far, I’ve dodged that…
Wednesday morning is filled with light. Sunlight is a great, magnificent gift. This morning I read another strange, and delightful story by Nietzsche. His spokesman, Zarathustra walks a path, and sees a black man, haggard, barely concealing his grief, sitting by the path. Zarathustra, weary of encountering characters who impose their issues upon him…
There is a strange and delightful little story about Zarathustra hiking along a trail passing through a lowland swamp. He stumbles upon a man concealed laying across the path. The one underfoot quickly rises cursing. Zarathustra in the confusion of the moment gives him a blow with his walking stick. Shortly the two calm…
The Monday after Easter, I feel disoriented, as if with a hang over. The day is splendid with full sunlight and singing birds. That is not the only thing on my mind. I am thinking of Aunt Clara, very sick with the final stages of cancer. The Sri Lanka bombings over the weekend are…
It is Easter morning 2019. Little has changed. I mean in the big picture of the world’s normality. Normal that is, with respect to the flooded and wind damaged regions of the South, wracked with the latest eruption of climate change. Normal if I keep in mind that Aunt Clara still slowly succumbs to…
Back to home base. It feels good to be back at Starbucks. Here I compose my thoughts trying to decide which of my conflicted selves I will give voice to. The cappuccino machine roars in the background. Maybe this is as it has to be. We live by the rhythm of the machines which…
Today is Good Friday. I have a few minutes to write before returning to Aunt Clara’s bedside. Yesterday we viewed old photographs together. She remembered the good times, traveling to new places, the trip to Florida with co-workers, the worn 8×10 photo displaying a smiling group, she in the middle, beautiful and appearing eternally…
I have a surreal feeling just typing the title, “Maunday Thursday.” Thursday of Holy Week is supposed to coincide with the last supper when Jesus kept company with his disciples. It is never a pleasant thing to leave this life. Many have no opportunity to sit with friends or family, eating together, and exchanging…
