Browsing Category: Journal Pages

               “Are you happy?” my seven-year-old asks out of the blue, and it takes me by surprise.  We are playing basketball on a Little Tikes hoop at my grandfather’s home.  I feed him the ball to slam dunk, but a part of me is distant, and his question draws me back.                “What?” I ask, […]

               I went to the library yesterday.  I went looking for a book one of our friends told me of a while ago.  I found it and then another.                 It was a slow day, and I didn’t have any urgent place to be or thing to do.  So I walked the aisles.  I saw […]

               “Sometimes, carrying on, just carrying on, is the superhuman achievement.”—Albert Camus                I don’t believe in making, or pretending, life any harder than it is.  Are there hard times?  Of course, but they come and go just as the good; and life is the experience and shapes, in the end, toward where we give […]

         In beginning notice of another, what is real?  What is false?  What is true, and what is imagined?  How do you know?          In first drawing of attentions on focus to another, and one perceives—from them—equal energy returned, cis discernment true; or is believed appearance mere projection, construct, of one’s own quiet hope?          […]

               “Do what you will, you cannot annihilate that eternal relic in the heart of man, love.”—Victor Hugo, Les Miserables                Oh, but how world will try: to denounce the beautiful as ugly; to raise ugly as ideal; to call on suppression of spirit and obeisance to the mass; that beauty and love are decided, […]

               If that is Purgatory’s purpose, is not this world—in so many ways—a mirror?  To live and refine our understanding of love: what it is, what it means?                We climb, or hold fixed at baser levels, as we learn (or never do) vices of love’s extremes, misconceptions, world untruths, as we discern and refine […]

               It rained today.  Before it came, I finished planting of a field and, after accomplishment and when it struck, returned home under its soft fall and patter sound.                  Home, I began into cleaning on a shop beside our home.                 When my family arrived, Owen held behind in car.  I was told he […]