“Every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.” -Charles Dickens-

Tuesday, November 15, 2016


Harder to find a glimmer of hope in the current political moment.
The few Narcissus, struggling along with us on a city windowsill in
hardly any sunlight, will still fulfill it's genetically stated purpose.

Friday, November 11, 2016



Since the astounding election just a few days ago I've been holding it together pretty well, encouraging others, posting expressions of grief and comforting friends. Then Leonard Cohen died. I spent time with "The Tibetan Book of the Dead" (film narrated by him), constructed the blog post I posted earlier, and then went for a brisk walk around many blocks after midnight. When I reached Madison Square park, I stopped to take a photograph of the Empire State building lit up red, looking like a fiery fist giving a finger to the sky.
Then I wept.