Reality Defines Itself ( it’s in the habit of coughing loudly when you think you have it all sewn up)
I did not intend to post today. But we have all( perhaps) been rudely interrupted in our collective wailing. The time a reader speaks, and times his entrance perfectly. Lest you misunderstand ( and for those who came late to the discussion) I will simply summarize so that you can pick up the thread.
We, a group of writers ( who write un-commercial books) were making a mountain out of a mountain. The welter, the scrabble, the noise, the heartlessness and the impossibility of finding the odd reader who would value what we write. None of us expect to be mobbed or recognised in the street, no paparazzi called for, just a slim chance of ‘cutting through’.
All of a sardine a perfect reader is netted, and he is called George like the future King: that’s his second name and he writes an article in Mythos Media about my ‘never to be discovered books’.(sniff sniff)
Not so much never to be discovered; more leaving no stone unturned, no quote unquoted, no link unobserved between them and no value undisclosed. So that’s me done. Thy servant can depart in peace according to his final word. Just came to kneel at confession and say Sorry Sir, I occasionally forget that time is not only on Your side but under Your control and you have tripped me up.
We all know that pride comes before a fall, only we seldom expect to fall UP, and be seen clearly from below.
Here is a link and the start of the post.
On Listening to the Call: From “A Shadow in Yucatan” to “Involution: An Odyssey Reconciling Science to God”
“I used to envy the father of our race, dwelling as he did in contact with the new-made fields and plants of Eden; but I do so no more, because I have discovered that I also live in creation’s dawn.”—John Muir