Each time there is a new loss, you’d think it would be easier but it isn’t. It’s harder. Each time they crack the heart just a little more. Each time there’s one more to remember, to meet with the other memories, the other losses. Each time you say, goodbye my love, goodbye. Thanks for being here. Thanks for your dear sweet soul.
Posted by Electric Lit
I wonder where it went, don’t you? That soul that lived a Victorian life only to leave it behind?
And then, here we are, living in the future. Sometimes it’s so much that we feel gobsmacked. Like seeing both the past and the future of our very selves, and yet even that, in this moment.
Eye of the Cosmos taken from the Hubble Telescope.
posted by Expanding Knowledge
A Father Bill Posting
Today is the feast of St. Joseph. Joe is the stepfather of Christ, according to Christian mythology. He is also the patron saint of real estate. How that happened is unknown. Perhaps miracles in his name counted by the number of mangers sold back in the day?
I buried a plastic statue of St. Joseph in the front-right corner of the yard at my house, the lovely English Tutor in Shaker Heights. When that didn’t work, after some time I (what the heck, can’t hurt, right?) buried another St. Joe in the back, outside the kitchen door. The place where all of the lovely lilies-of-the-valley grew, and Zeus the cat often hid. The lady at the crafts store where I found the last of the last St. Joseph plastic reproductions said they’d had a run on St. Joes since the real estate market decline. And no, she didn’t keep any statistics on success ratios.
Zeus continued to hide and the house did not sell. But and after all, I don’t blame St. Joe. I am a staunch hypocrite in many areas of life. How can you be Catholic and non-Catholic at once? How can you be a non-believer and expect miracles? And so I moved on without a push of Grace from the powers that be. The house was purchased (at a loss) by the company and I traveled onward, carrying only the guilt from uninterred plastic statues. (There are no instructions for post non-miracles.)
As I move along………. (And the knee and leg grow stronger.)
Bob Blair* Photography—Cuyahoga Valley Park
This is a photo of a Great Blue Heron. There’s a rookery in the Cuyahoga and the herons have come back. What a great photo of this guy profiled against the waining moon. Soon, soon I think, Tula and I will be walking through this place all agog with what is there. I become so enraptured that I forget to take photos myself. What a fine thought, that the weather and my knee and I all progress into the spring, and come awake and healed.
*Just corrected this credit from the La Crosse photographer to the Ohio/Cuyahoga Valley National Park photographer, Bob Blair.
Happy Pi Day! This image is a visualization of the first 1,000 digits of Pi, shown as links between successive digits. For example, the “14” in “3.14…” is drawn as a link from segment 1 to segment 4. The concentric circles placed outside the links indicate the number of transitions between digits; the big purple splotch at the top is known as the Feynman Point, where six 9’s appear in succession.~Martin Krzywinski
posted by Wired
Writers Ink—Writing and Stuff 