A friend recommended I read some essays of Edward Hoagland, so that’s what I’m reading today. I’m not far into it, too many voices surrounding me right now. And we’re going apple picking, wine tasting… There is this very interesting mixture between reading, writing, and living going on right now. Forget about arithmetic. I realize the numbers on my paper are all askew. I add when I should subtract, that sort of thing. I’m not sure who made all the number rules. I plan on talking to them, try to get them to see reason.
But back to Hoagland. Here’s a little piece from Compass Points:
“…I grin at seeing a one-year-old, or will approach someone elderly, optimistic at the prospect of talking with him. A basic faith kicks in. It’s automatic, not ideological, though I believe life has meaning. I find diversity a comfort in the wilds and in the city—that there are more species than mine, more personalities than me—and believe in God as embodied in the earth and in metropolises. I believe that life is good.”
Amen. Or let it be.