“He caught a glimpse of that extraordinary faculty in man, that strange, altruistic, rare, and obstinate decency which will make writers or scientists maintain their truths at the risk of death. Eppur si muove, Galileo was to say; it moves all the same. They were to be in a position to burn him if he would go on with it, with his preposterous nonsense about the earth moving round the sun, but he was to continue with the sublime assertion because there was something which he valued more than himself. The Truth. To recognize and to acknowledge What Is. That was the thing which man could do, which his English could do, his beloved, his sleeping, his now defenceless English. They might be stupid, ferocious, unpolitical, almost hopeless. But here and there, oh so seldome, oh so rare, oh so glorious, there were those all the same who would face the rack, the executioner, and even utter extinction, in the cause of something greater than themselves. Truth, that strange thing, the jest of Pilate’s. Many stupid young men had thought they were dying for it, and many would continue to die for it, perhaps for a thousand years. They did not have to be right about their truth, as Galileo was to be. It was enough that they, the few and martyred, should establish a greatness, a thing above the sum of all they ignorantly had.” ~ T. H. White, The Book of Merlyn
Long quote, right? Yeh, it’s the longest opening quote I have ever used. But, Merlyn? The guy was a wizard. That’s what I am looking for today; that, and his sense of transcendent optimism. I could use some of that, and use it I will. It’s not that anything is particularly wrong. It’s more that more things need to be right. Maybe this all stems from the fact that I woke up nearly anxiety-free. Nearly? My right foot keeps wagging a good part of the time, so there is that. It would be flippantly easy to attribute this dearth of anxiety to the cat’s method of rousing me from sleep. Poke, poke. First on the head, then the forearm, then finally my left shoulder. No amount of debate dissuaded her of her ambition, so I friggin got out of bed. If I were a New Age optimist I would cheerfully say that the Universe had woken me up, and the cat was just the means for doing so, and that within the action lay a purpose, in fact a reason. Yeh, right. The purpose was kibble. Don’t even try it, I know better. But I am not a pessimist either. Big sigh here. Let’s put it this way: in a world where everyone creates their own reality it is the skeptic who is the busiest man, woman, whatever, around. Don’t think about that too hard. I suspect the Trickster made me say it.
“Grown-ups have developed an unpleasant habit of comforting themselves for their degradation by pretending that children are childish.” ~ T. H. White, The Book of Merlyn
I just took a break from writing to go outside for a few minutes. The stars are looking good. There is quite a bit of snow left over from yesterday morning’s blizzard. Yeh, a real blizzard. I’d looked outside at 4 AM and there was a cloud of dense, swirling snow. From the accumulated snow on the deck I reckoned it to be about two inches. When I went to to go to work there was eight inches of the stuff, and the trees in the yard were heavily burdened with snow as well. Who knew.The drive to work was a bit nervous, but only because there was an infernal tailgater – even in that weather! But – I remain hopeful in that there is something in my life that deserves dedication of purpose. The hope may just be a prop, but I think not.What I do think is that I need to wrap up this post and let the loose ends dangle for now. Call it trust. The Fates will weave away while I am not looking. And yes, I do know what I am talking about, I just don’t know how to say it.
Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.