It is not a good time to write. Melancholy is an invisible presence in the house today. Since writing helps clarify thought, I will write that which is oppressive into the light, where evaporation is likely.
The morning's first light saw wet snow dripping from the grey sky. There is wind; it bites. Clouds scud across the sky, revealing the occasional patch of striking blue.
Attila slept late, which is not his habit, and was in a great rush to get to work.
The news at home and abroad is mostly bad. It remains to be seen if spread of SARS [Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome] can be brought under control; medical science has no quick fix for this disease, or its dissemination. The war rages on. A season of the West Nile Virus will soon begin in Canada.
Where we live, pubescent boys are answering the call of hormones. They are roaming about in small packs, with devilry on their "minds". Gardens and private property are not safe; seniors are watching anxiously from the safety of their homes.
As Terra said, "What is the world coming to!"
It seems the world is mostly going, at least if one pays any attention to the media.
Ah, but really, the world has always been a chaotic and unpredictable place. This is both wonderful and terrifying. Sometimes it is more one than the other, as it seems now. Things change.
I have been thinking a great deal about my great uncle Jack. He fought during the First World War, from which many did not return whole, or return at all. When he came home, hale and hearty, he got sick. One day he went out to get some wood, when he came in he died. It was the Influenza Pandemic of 1918; he was stricken with what was sometimes called the "Spanish Flu" or "La Grippe". He left behind a wife and two small children.
This event left a deep impression on family members. I have never believed that bad things only happen to "other people", or to those who are "unwise". The worldview we learned at our mother's knee revolved around respect for nature and chaos. We learned to seek mastery over ourselves, compromise with the world.
I have always felt discordant with a "culture" that would willingly compromise the self, in order to gain mastery over the world.
This afternoon I am sitting in my easy chair with a cup of tea. Mist sleeps in my lap. The patches of blue are getting bigger and bigger, and may just take over the sky.
|RECIPES :: Cast
Things Looking Up
By the Easy Chair
Hereward the Wake
by Charles Kingsley
On the Screen
The Weather Network
Wind: NW 24 km/h
Barometric: 101.9 kPa
Sunrise 6:08 AM EST
Sunset 6:49 PM EST
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