I was back at the field yesterday. It's a good distraction from the search for a better job, a more inspiring place to live, and a soul mate. Plus I get fresh air. I arrived in the middle of the afternoon, and after three hours, had cleared an inner sanctum in the middle of the forest. There was an old tree that had fallen across the stream.
It moves against the trees and the side of the building like pin-filled waves.
It is possible that you have heard of how kind the people in Atlantic Canada are. Good God, it’s true!
Is this the thing? Aristotle's idea of living a happy, flourishing life. Do people do this? Now?
In all of this lunacy, global vitriol and push, in the wake of senseless tragedies and the signs of a world spinning, spinning, ready to tip, I am distracted. I feel lost, until I find myself sitting with my friend, Diane Tait, on the floor in her house, listening to a recording of her playing Brahms Violin Concerto for a recital.
