Lenten funk

“Society leans toward secrecy, toward hiding the less desirable parts of ourselves, but there is an incredible freedom in accepting the flaws and challenges that come from being human. Shaming those parts, or even politely declining to acknowledge them, is a misplaced attempt at perfection and uniformity. It brings no joy to deny the unique journey every person is on; in fact, it eats at the heart of the kind of power that brings a book like this to life.”

I ripped this quote from its context in a review of “Fun Home: A Family Tragicomedy” by Alison Bechdel in the blog “Books, j’adore.”

Guess the tone reflects my funk after reading the news of recent events and modern apologists who fail to see humans as fundamentally imperfect. And, the season of Lent is upon us to remind us that we can’t afford to see ourselves as anything more than much less than perfect.

So much good literature, so little time.

It’s in the DNA…

The writer of this blog is South African, but I think the psychology can be applied to the good, old U.S.A. Fears become inbred, and they are passed on, unchallenged until brought to light by conflict. If it isn’t skin color, its political party or religion or sexuality or consumption or food choice or… you name the frameworks that divide us.

It’s refreshing to have someone call out the hidden mindsets that get in the way of living well.


Just figured out, dunce that I am, that comments made on my entries should be “moderated.” Took me awhile to figure that out.

Go figure, to quote a well-known author.

If you’ve taken the opportunity to comment on any of my blithering, my apologies if I haven’t had the courtesy to “moderate,” if that is what I should be doing.

<Frustation, right now, with things digital [Where’s the dang manual?]>


This from Sting in an interview with Timothy White in the September 18, 1999, issue of Billboard:

White asked: “What role does a creative person have these days in our cultural destiny?

Sting: As a canary in a coal mine.

Now, there’s an image.


So quiet here this morning. No traffic noise. Few flakes of snow coming down. Every once in a while, the furnace blower kicks in, but its mostly the sound of the wood stove cricking. That’ll change, but for now it’s peaceful.

Quietness like this is immersive, good for body and soul, a long pause before the day kicks in. Nothing bangs at the brain, just a quiet awareness.