Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque revenit. – Horace, Epistles Slow. I am at rest. No. I am not resting. We beings breathe the three-in-one, creating-begetting-proceeding. The divine does; the imago deis. We are parched, desert-time frosting catabolic catastrophe, the dust unsettles in place. I am kudzu. Body. My soul hurts. Mind. I am a vine.… Continue reading

Thus there is nothing waste, nothing dead in the universe; no chaos, no confusions, save in appearence. We might compare this to the appearence of a pond in the distance, where we can see the confused movement and swarming of the fish, without distinguishing the fish themselves.Thus we are that each living body has a… Continue reading

The animal is poor in world, it somehow possesses less. But less of what? Less in respect of what is accessible to it, of whatever as an animal it can deal with, of whatever it can be affected by as an animal, of whatever it can relate to as a living being. Less as against… Continue reading

Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living. And just as they seem to… Continue reading

The unfettered clouds and region of the heavens,Tumult and peace, the darkness and the light—Were all like workings of one mind, the featuresOf the same face, blossoms upon one tree,Characters of the great Apocalypse,The types and symbols of Eternity,Of first and last, and midst, and without end.- William Wordsworth, The Simplon Pass ἀποκάλυψις – ἀπό-καλύπτω… Continue reading