Playing With The Dance Of Life
We humans are a muddle headed, tragi-joyous melange, ever seemingly lost and only now and then touching the divine, that …
Previous articles
Proust’s Recapturing Of Time Lost
“…I would make as if to put away the book which I imagined was still in my hands, and to …
Failure Of Nerve?
“Professor Gilbert Murray has termed the centuries between the flowering of classical Athens and the growth of the radically different …
Metropolitan Musing
In the past I would have walked the streets until my legs gave out. But one of them gave out …
The Big Apple!
That’s right. And I’m not talking about a 27 inch iMac either. But first there’s a brief stop over in …
Playing My Magic Flute
*** Sitting here at the kitchen table, cast propped on a chair and tea at my elbow, pondering the interconnectedness …
Blockages
“The period—we must note—was that of the fanatic cutting down of the Old Germanic sacred shrines and groves by the …
Casting… The Dice
Quiet, contemplative days. Forced inactivity a welcome respite from the daily round. Not that the daily round was overly disagreeable. …
Yet He Is Seen By Subtle Seers
“Though he is hidden in all things, That self does not shine forth. Yet he is seen by subtle seers …
The Game….And Is That A Popping Sound I Hear?
“Whereas the typical Occidental hero is a personality, and therefore necessarily tragic, doomed to be implicated seriously in the agony …
Omphalos Cafe 