Tuesday, October 30, 2007
life is more true than reason will deceive
(more secret or than madness did reveal)
deeper is life than lose:higher than have
—but beauty is more each than living's all
multiplied with infinity sans if
the mightiest meditations of mankind
canceled are by one merely opening leaf
(beyond whose nearness there is no beyond)
or does some littler bird than eyes can learn
look up to silence and completely sing?
futures are obsolete:pasts are unborn
(here less than nothing's more than everything)
death,as men call him, ends what they call men
—but beauty is more now than dying's when.
Friday, August 03, 2007
No ... over two years.
I came to say goodbye. After two years of wandering, I've begun a new settled period as the proprietor of a small antique store in St. Paul, MN. I'm now an Ithilien Exile. But it's a good life. Stop by and visit. Buy a commemorative tea spoon from Bangladesh. I've got three of them. If you're around long enough, you'll also hear what's been going on for the past several years.
It's amazing how quickly nature recaptures its favorite spaces.
Sitting here inside the cottage reminds me of being inside that old two story house I found out here in the valley.
Vines are already about half way up the sides of the cottage and many have made their way in.
Birds have been in here. Fox and raccoon scat on the floor. Cold and Silent.
One of the brothers at St. Godric's had collected the few notes on the doorpost nail and put them inside.
They made me sad. Sad that I left. Maybe even sad that I came back.
Brother Joseph is gone.
Camilla left shortly after I did and no one at the monastery has seen or heard from her.
A few seekers-errant still wander in the valley but none I recognize.I've collected the journals and noticitngs from those few brief months here two years ago and put them into order. If you like, you can read them here.
One surprise ... I found a last bottle of Grotten Brown in one of my old sink holes down by the stream!
I sat on the bank enjoying it in the late August sun.
And it was good.
Monday, August 15, 2005
I learned something – at first, certainly – that had not been one of the teachings of my small, smothered life; learned to be amused, and even amusing, and not to think for the morrow. It was the first time, in a manner, that I had known space and air and freedom, all the music of summer and all the mystery of nature. And then there was consideration – and consideration was sweet. Oh, it was a trap – not designed, but deep – to my imagination, to my delicacy, perhaps to my vanity; to whatever, in me, was most excitable. The best way to picture it all is to say that I was off my guard.
in Henry James’ The Turn of the Screw