May 17, 2022
Gleanings
- I am eternally searching for murder mysteries that scratch a very specific itch.
- When the Cherry Blossoms at Robarts Library are in full bloom I know that winter is well and truly over.
- I’m glad to have recognized, yet again, that it is possible (necessary) to love the imperfect.
- In Dublin I wondered why I’d ever left that western island but it was the beginning of something else, a key, the life I live now, and Dylan somehow knows that and offers his own strange consolation.
- Words and photos never capture the breathtaking beauty of sunrises and sunsets. They are an experience one has to witness.
- And the flowers open in sunshine and close again in the evening and in cloudy weather, which makes me wonder about the mysteries of nature. How it does this. How it knows.
- But I do know what fear feels like, and looks like, and how it shows up in me, and in our world and so what might be possible if love simply is moving away from, or through fear, to a place of openness and spaciousness and being with… to the myriad of possibilities that lie beyond fear?
- If he’d lived, he would be 96 now. If my mother had lived, she would be 99. That would be improbable, for me to have a 96-year-old father, a 99-year-old mother. Am I old, then?
- What I have learned this past while is that it’s very easy to be a buddhist among buddhists. It’s easy to be a good listener among other good listeners. But in the absence, it can be quite ridiculously difficult! Likewise, it’s very easy to be just and fair and kind among same.
- It’s revelatory and delightful to discover (again and again?) that the self is so sturdy.
