It’s been a long day

In the darkness he was looking sideways at me. I said nothing for a moment; there had seemed to be some special emphasis on the last sentence.

‘Is this also what you meant by being psychic?’ ‘

It is what I mean by hazard. There comes a time in each life like a point of fulcrum. At that time you must accept yourself. It is not any more what you will become. It is what you are and always will be. You are too young to know this. You are still becoming. Not being.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘Not perhaps. For certain.’

‘What happens if one doesn’t recognize the… point of fulcrum?’ …

‘You will be like the many. Only the few recognize this moment. And act on it.’

‘The elect?’

‘The elect.’

~ John Fowles, The Magus


Notes:

Saturday Morning

It’s a gift, this cloudless … morning
warm enough to walk without a jacket
along your favorite path. The rhythmic shushing
of your feet through fallen leaves should be
enough to quiet the mind…

The rising wind pulls you out of it,
and you look up to see a cloud of leaves
wheeling in sunlight, flickering against the blue
and lifting above the treetops, as if the whole day
were sighing, Let it go, let it go,
for this moment at least, let it all go
.

~ Jeffrey Harrison, from Enough

 


Notes: Poem from Poets.org.  Photo: niaz uddin (Eastern Sierra Mountains)

 

That’s when you want something a little milder, don’t you?

I’m not very interested in my school days and feel no special nostalgia for them. But I remember Sixth Form. In those days, we imagined ourselves as being in a holding pen, waiting to be released into our lives. And when that moment would come, we would be at university. How were we to know that our lives had already begun, and our release would only be to a large holder pen. And in time, a larger holding pen. When you were young, you want your emotions to be like the ones you read about in books. You want them to overturn your life and create a new reality. But as that second hand insists on speeding up and time delivers us all to quickly into middle age, and then old age, that’s when you want something a little milder, don’t you? You want your emotions to support your life as it has become. You want them to tell you that everything is going to be ok.

And is there anything wrong with that?

~ Tony (Jim Broadbent), A Sense of An Ending (2017)


Notes:

Running. Around Gitche Gumee.

6:37 am, Sunday morning. Father’s Day 2017.  57º F, rain is falling. No, better depicted as the heavens opening up, c’était le déluge!

I’m running.

An eerie, fifty foot layer of fog hangs over Lake Superior. I’m looking out at the break wall at Presque Isle Park in Marquette Michigan. I’m alone on the “Island”, as it is referred to by the locals. The park is closed to car traffic.  Alone on a 323 acre island, my idyllic state.

It’s not November, but I start humming passages from Gordon Lightfoot’s The Wreck of Edmund Fitzgerald:

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
In the maritime sailors’ cathedral
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call ‘gitche gumee’
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early

The day before, we walked this same two mile track.  Black flies were feeding on the leeward side of the island, Humans were on the breakfast menu. You don’t see a single insect on 47th and Madison in NYC with tons of auto exhaust and air conditioner coolant spilling into the atmosphere 24 x 7 – the invisible chemical mist numbing everything in its path. [Read more…]

Walking Cross-Town. Just make it stop.

Commotion.

Upstairs.

Comey. Russia. Fake News. Senate investigations. ObamaCare. Republicans, Democrats (Rodney: Can’t we just get along?) Hearings. More Hearings. More hearings. Trump. Leaks. Lies. Spin. Frenzy. Russians. Spies. Kushner. Back channels. Flynn. Covfefe. NATO. Kabul suicide blast, 90 dead, 400 wounded, Afghan capital mourns, anger swirls. Hate. Portland Train stabbings. Climate change. North Korea. Saber rattling. Cruise Missiles.  Guns. Missouri man kills 8, suicide by cop was his intention. Manchester. Hillary, blame. Tiger Woods DUI. Kathy Griffin fake Trump severed head (Funny, really?).  Extra policing in Chicago on Memorial Day, violence down, 6 killed, 44 wounded. Ohio sues Opioid drugmakers for unleashing drug epidemic. Yellowstone, rare white female wolf shot illegally. Ivory, elephant poachers run rampant. (Will Man purge them all?)

Is there no place, where I can sit undisturbed?


Photo: via zsazsabellagio.com. Related Posts: Commuting

Lightly child, lightly.

Nothing ever done.

Sure, sure, sure.

Today I will walk in the sun.

I will simply walk in the sun.

~ Charles Bukowski, from “a letter to Ann Bauman,“ Screams From The Balcony: Selected Letters 1960 – 1970


Notes:

  • Photo: The Sun, as of May 13, 2017 (via Nasa.gov).
  • Quote & Photo Source: Thank you Dan @ Your Eyes Blaze Out.
  • Prior “Lightly child, lightly” Posts? Connect here.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Lightly child, lightly.

Simply Put, by Pascal Campion, an artist from San Francisco, CA. Love his work. Check out his blog @ Pascal Campion


Notes:

  • Prior “Lightly child, lightly” Posts? Connect here.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Lightly child, lightly.

I
am engulfed,
I
succumb…

~ Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse Fragments

Notes:

  • Photo:  Noell S. Oszvald (Self portrait!!!!!) via Your Eyes Blaze Out
  • Prior “Lightly child, lightly” Posts? Connect here.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Saturday Morning

ear-pale

How are you?
Silence again.
Fine, fine, I mumble, fine,
unraveling like string…

Sandra Cisneros, from “Drought” in My Wicked Ways: Poems


Notes:

All That We Share (Watch!)

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