At Home He's a Tourist

He fills his head with culture/ He gives himself an ulcer.

Friday, March 14, 2003

Teresa of Avila says that contemplative prayer is a gift which God does not give to everybody. I would like this gift, but I don't know how long to wait before deciding I'm not on the list. My prayer life has been pretty dry the past few years, but John of the Cross tells us that's a usual condition of spiritual growth, so I'll stick with it a while longer.

Tip for prog rock fans: Don't listen to Pink Floyd's "Time" if you have realized that your life, on all reasonable expectations, is half over and you have accomplished little of what you hoped to do.

The library was closed because of spring break so I frittered the hours in an off-hand way: bought a well-worn love seat for twenty bucks at a garage sale from a talkative old coot who's moving to Lousiana; went grocery shopping; played some Dylan tunes on the guitar; went around town taking photos with the digital camera; watched a couple of Monty Python episodes; killed Maleficient on "Kingdom Hearts"; and blogged. Tomorrow I might go hiking along an old section of railroad converted into a trail. There's supposed to be a train tunnel that now serves as a haven for bats, and a wooden trestle further down the line.


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