“Parsifal is on his way to the temple of the Grail Knights and says: “I hardly move, yet far I seem to have come”, and the all-knowing Gurnemanz replies: “You see, my son, time turns here into space” ~ Richard Wagner
“I returned to the courtyard and saw that the sun had grown weaker. Beautiful and clear as it had been, the morning (as the day approached the completion of its first half) was becoming damp and misty. Heavy clouds moved from the north and were invading the top of the mountain, covering it with a light brume. It seemed to be fog, and perhaps fog was also rising from the ground, but at that altitude it was difficult to distinguish the mists that rose from below and those that come down from above. It was becoming hard to discern the bulk of the more distant buildings.” ~ Umberto Eco
Yesterday’s fog is still upon me. No, it’s not real fog. The morning is clear. And, once again, seriously cold. Today being the Winter Solstice, I suppose I should be a good pagan and talk about the meaning of it all – for me, and for the world-at-large. Give a loud huzzah, thus emboldening the passing of the longest night of the year. My favorite label for the longest night of the year is “Birth of Light”. Interpret that as you will. Of course the return of light might be a good and positive way to regard our national social and political climate, and how the Trump-soused Republicans apparently have forgotten that there are people out here. Yes, you could say that the Democrats are just the same. They are all alike. You can’t tell one from the other. And so on. Sounds like bigotry to me, but don’t hold me to that; it’s just that some people are saying that. I simply need to get it off of my chest that I believe that the “Dems do it too” attitude is a notable part of what put tRump in office in the first place. Now that I (may) have pissed some people off I can get on with my day. With the Christmas retail rush in bloom I suppose I should feel an agoraphobic dread in having to leave the house to go into town. Not so much. It’s all good. It is what it is. Geez! What is it with these here aphorisms anyway? Sugar-laced Zen wannabe chatter that has always sounded to me like a cutesy facade for “I don’t want to talk about it”. Maybe I’m just hearing things wrong. I mean, my ears ring all of the time anyway. How can I ever hear anything clearly? And why would I want to? It is what it is. Whatever. I’d better stop playing with words and get to it. Later, y’all. Oh! One more thing – maybe clarity in language might . . . oh, never mind. I suppose all writers say that.
All is well. Goof gloriously.