Make visible what, without you might perhaps never have been seen.
Robert Bresson
Wow, what a challenge. Each of us has a unique contribution to make to this old world and it is up to us to find out what it is and do it. There is no other person on earth exactly like you or me at this point in history. If we don't do it, say it, be it - it might never be - done, said or exist.
1 comment:
Good to hear from you. I have been following your postings with great delight.
I have recovered from the election. My spirit has even been dancing a little.
I've been writing up a storm, but nothing has made it to my blog.
I was reminded of my favorite Emily Dickinson poem after the election:
After great pain, a formal feeling comes -
The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs -
The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore,
And yesterday, or Centuries before?
The Feet, mechanical, go round -
Of Ground or Air or Ought -
A Wooden Way
Regardless grown,
A Quartz contentment, like a stone -
This is the Hour of Lead -
Remembered, if out lived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow -
First - Chill then Stupor - then the letting go -
For some reason that poem, for all its sadness, works on me like the 23rd Psalm works on other people.
It sounds like we are having much more temperate weather in Chicago than you are, and for that I am glad.
You take care too.
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