Bloody unimaginable . . .
It's Thor's day, and today in the year 79 A.D. Thor's hammer fell erupting Mount Vesuvius destroying the Roman city of Pompeii. 331 years later, to the day in 410 A.D., Visigoths sacked Rome in the first successful invasion in 800 years. The attack marked the beginning of the end of the Western Roman Empire. No doubt, unimaginable at the time.
It's the 124th anniversary of Jorge Luis Borges' birth, in 1899 Buenos Aires. The Argentine poet, short-story writer, and essayist wrote labyrinthian prose that gave rise to the term "magical realism.”
Universities are cutting the Humanities, and students are paying the price. In an existence run by artificial intelligence [in order] to saving a dollar or two, it seems that human beings are the first to go. – Brian Broome
“No one is immune to the byproducts of compulsory schooling and standardized testing. And while reform may be a worthy cause for some, it is not enough for countless others still trying to navigate the tyranny of what schooling has always been. . . .we need . . . systems truly designed for any human to learn, grow, socialize, and thrive, regardless of age, ability, background, or access to money.” – Akilah Richards from Raising Free People
We think in such a small, small way. We think fear and anger and judgment and punishment are going to achieve love—but show me where? – Richard Rohr
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide . . .
But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.
They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.
– Billy Collins, from The Apple that Astonished Paris. University of Arkansas Press, 1996.
Dynamite probably won't help . . .
It's Odin's day … and the mailboxes in Okieland are still under a heat-hammer, making for a slow start to the day . . .
This summer the climate apocalypse that the global south has been familiar with for years finally reached the sterile lawns of suburbia, the glittering cityscapes of capitalist denial. – Sophie Strand, from Tromos Omorfia: The season of terrible angels.
When our surroundings (however wide or narrow our definition) are hurt, we feel hurt. The global crises we are experiencing are also hammering our very sense of “self.” It’s not enough to preserve your narrow, personal self. You are part of a vast, interconnected Universe, where the wellbeing of all crucially depends on maintaining relationships and connections with others, including nonhuman others. – Helen De Cruz
How you can have a functioning democracy when a substantial part of the population is essentially prepared to dynamite it? – Chauncey DeVega
. . . it is not realistic to expect external objects to be a lasting source of happiness. Reflect on the fact that by letting go, we can enjoy our health, our relationships, any wealth we might have when it’s there, and be relaxed when it isn’t. – Thubten Chodron
.A forgiving light shining on our all too human limitations amid The Way . . . Satya Robyn – a writer, psychotherapist, and environmental activist rooted in a Buddhist tradition – reflects in this delightful talk for everyone including non-buddhists or non-whatsoevers, with credits to her tradition and her dog “Ralph.” (my dad's name).
Expect the unexpected
Tew's day's mailbox is not “just another day.”
It's the 130th anniversary of Dorothy Parker's birth. One of the charter members of the Algonquin Round Table was born in 1893 Long Branch, New Jersey.
Résumé
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live. – Dorothy Parker, from Enough Rope, Boni & Liveright, 1926.
French composer Claude Debussy was born on this date in 1862 Saint-Germain-en-Laye. For a taste of Debussy.
It's the birthday of Annie Proulx. The novelist was born in 1935 Norwich, Connecticut. She won the Pulitzer Prize for her second novel, The Shipping News (1993).
And, Ray Bradbury was born on this day in 1920 Waukegan, Illinois.
My voice becomes both a breath and a shout.
One prepares the way, the other
surrounds my lonliness with angels. – Rilke