There are some years when life feels like a train careening down a mountainside. I’ve simply held on for dear life. I’m working up to a book-length tirade someday on the hectic craze of modern living, and it got its start when I woke up about a month ago and had a stabbing realization that it had been a long time since I had actually read a full hour. Or written a good essay. Or taken a good walk, (rather impossible here with the strange and incessant snow), or…blogged.
Well, I’m back. Rather windblown and wild-eyed it must be admitted. But back in earnest and determined to plunge back into the work of great thinking. Which, of course, leads to the reading of the great thoughts of all you other bloggers and the writing of a few of my own.
It’s good to begin again.