Tuesday, July 23
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Imaginary Conversation
You tell me to live each day
as if it were my last. This is in the kitchen
where before coffee I complain
of the day ahead - that obstacle race
of minutes and hours,
grocery stores and doctors.

But why the last? I ask. Why not
live each day as if it were the first -
all raw astonishment, Eve rubbing
her eyes awake that first morning,
the sun coming up
like an ingénue in the east?

You grind the coffee
with the small roar of a mind
trying to clear itself. I set
the table, glance out the window
where dew has baptized every
living surface.
 - Linda Pastan
Insomnia



Monday, July 22
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"There's nothing wrong with enjoying looking at the surface of the ocean itself, except that when you finally see what goes on underwater, you realize that you've been missing the whole point of the ocean. Staying on the surface all the time is like going to the circus and staring at the outside of the tent."
 - Dave Barry



Sunday, July 21
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"One human life is deeper than the ocean. Strange fishes and sea-monsters and mighty plants live in the rock-bed of our spirits. The whole of human history is an undiscovered continent deep in our souls. There are dolphins, plants that dream, magic birds inside us. The sky is inside us. The earth is in us."
 - Ben Okri
The Famished Road



Friday, July 19
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"Most of us find it difficult to know what we are feeling about anything. In any situation it is almost impossible to know what is really happening to us. This is one of the penalties of being human and having a brain so swarming with interesting suggestions and ideas and self-distrust."
 - Ted Hughes



Thursday, July 18
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"Everything is as-it-is means this: We undergo all kinds of difficult and painful practices. We travel to all kinds of places and then discover that we didn't have to do a thing. That things are as-they-as. It's not that everything is as-it-is without us having tried anything. Everything is as-it-is after we've broken our bones trying everything."
 - Ichitaro
Taitetsu Unno
River of Fire, River of Water



Saturday, July 13
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Promise of Blue Horses
A blue horse turns into a streak of lightning,
then the sun -
relating the difference between sadness
and the need to praise
that which makes us joyful, I can't calculate
how the earth tips hungrily
toward the sun - then soaks up rain - or the density
of this unbearable need
to be next to you. It's a palpable thing - this earth
philosophy
and familiar in the dark
like your skin under my hand. We are a small earth. It's no
simple thing. Eventually
we will be dust together; can be used to make a house, to stop
a flood or grow food
for those who will never remember who we were, or know
that we loved fiercely.
Laughter and sadness eventually become the same song turning us
toward the nearest star -
a star constructed of eternity and elements of dust barely visible
in the twilight as you travel
east. I run with the blue horses of electricity who surround
the heart
and imagine a promise made when no promise was possible.
 - Joy Harjo
How We Became Human



Friday, July 12
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"Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery."
 - Cormac McCarthy



Thursday, July 11
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"The widespread cultural notion that science has explained most of the world is scandalously unjustified. For all we know, we've explained only very, very little; practically nothing. We just don't know what kinds of fundamental causal forces and organizing principles may kick in when systems become complex enough to be seen with the naked eye outside a laboratory. Inability to acknowledge this represents a catastrophic failure of skepticism."
 - Bernardo Kastrup
Brief Peeks Beyond









  • ". . . as I have said often enough, I write for myself in multiplicate,
    a not unfamiliar phenomenon on the horizon of shimmering deserts."
    - Vladimir Nabokov