as a sort of post script to my last post, here is an excerpt from my scribble notebook a few weeks ago.
"The chattering of birds outside the window has been immeasurably reviving today. I've had a bout of the flu, and to be able to see and hear the cheerful flock of sparrows in their muted browns, hopping about excitedly in the bush, happy about temporary melted patches and fleeting streaks of blue sky has made me feel alive.
A little taste of heaven I think, this brightening of color, sound, sharpening of detail. Moments like these I feel I've been seeing black and white for a while. I've been starved for color, though hardly knowing it, numbed to sharp detail, deaf to the shouting wonder of the world.
And when I feel I've got my eyes back, I'm all the more excited for heaven where reality will be more real than we've ever know. Hard will be harder, soft will be softer. War will become victory, light will overcome darkness, and my eyes will no longer grow weary of wondering."
Welcome to the online picnic-spot for my sporadic writings and endless tea drinking.
In lieu of trying to belong to any number of societies: Chesterton, Sherlock Holmes, the Inklings, and so on: I propose and establish one of my own. Don your intelligence cap at the door; dust off your logic and imagination; did you bring your inspiration and encouragement? We are shapers, my friends; lit lamps; light-bringers. Bring quotes; poetry should be uplifting and thoughtful, or witty and clever, (or both). Humor is encouraged; laughter is invited back. Pull up a chair. Anyone for tea?
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