Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship
Thursday gratefuls: Rich. Diane. Shadow rolling her ball, treats falling out. Sue. Annie. Clinical trial. Neck braces. Superior Wolf.
Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sue’s loving care
Week Kavannah: Bitachon. Confidence. I need to focus on confidence this week. Important decisions for cancer treatment, how to stay confident when physical weakness challenges me.
Tarot: Ace of Arrows, Breath of Life
Yes. Irony. My writing, given sudden new life by AI. As coach. Rereading, revising. Ancientrails. Superior Wolf.
One brief shining: Writing, then listening to the coach. Oh, yes. Compress. Use nouns. Trust the reader. Structure. Having a careful reader trained on literature, good writing. Vulnerability respected. How do we learn? How do I learn?
Ancora imparo. Those books stacked in front of me. Furious Minds. Dog Show. Black Bird Oracle. Watching Shadow, what attracts her. That sore shoulder, how can I help it.
Uploading iteration after iteration. Feedback. Kind but pointed. Not sycophantic. Speaking with and for precision. For seeing the sculpture in the rock of my first draft.
How thirsty I was.
Help me get better, please. Stop learning. Die. Life needs, demands challenge.
Curiosity. Judged dangerous. Openness. An unpredictable citizen, one who might embrace a foreigner. Who likes meat ball soup, raw fish, rugby.
No. Homogeneity. Yields security. Order. No surprises. A dismal, dreary world of look alikes with red hat, of political commissars enforcing their dogma, of all waltzes and no rock and roll.
I prefer seeing the Bull fight in the Plaza de Toros. Even if, as Paul said, I’m rooting for the Bull. When I took notes, I could hear Spanish sprinkled with Hemingway as picadors lanced him, protected by their buffoonish mattresses.
Wandering into Mickey’s late at night, the Diner full, breakfast all the time. With Joseph. Joseph turning that experience over. Thinking, no cookies for Santa this year. We left the jolly old elf five dollars and directions.
Listening with my eyes. Hearing the plant say I’m thirsty with a drooping leaf. Shadow: I need to go outside. Right now. Pacing.
More traditional moments. Ensconced in my favorite top floor carrel, books on soteriology above me on a shelf, reading about doctrines of sin. Looking out through the full plate glass windows. Cars on I-694 uninterested in being saved.
Professor Scruton explaining the power of culture, how it shapes and defines us. My mind racing, absorbing, joyful.
There it is. There. It. Is. Learning is joyful. At least for me. It lifts my heart. Kick starts associations. Oh. Culture = architecture = language = virtues learned at funerals–“Dick always listened, lived in the background.”
Torah. The root most literally relates to “shooting an arrow” or “hitting the mark.” While hamartia, a Greek word often translated as sin in the Septuagint, means missing the mark.
Teshuvah, often translated as repentance, more interestingly means returning to your Authentic Self. To hit the mark of your neshama. Your Buddha nature.
Joy marks the time. Once returned to my authentic self as a writer, I can relax. Learn. Grow into a writer, one known and unknown.
Ancora Imparo.
Simcha.