Not a quarter, not a whole... just somewhere in between.
KT, I'm catching up on your blog, and I'm finding it engaging as always. It's funny you'd post this because I recently read a poem at a friend's memorial service that connects to this. Do you like poetry? Well, here's one I like and hope you will too:If you don't know the kind of person I amand I don't know the kind of person you area pattern that other made may prevail in the worldand following the wrong god home we may miss our star.For there is many a small betrayal in the mind,a shrug, that lets the fragile sequence breaksending with shouts the horrible errors of childhoodstorming out to play through the broken dyke.And as elephants parade holding each elephant's tail,but if one wanders the circus won't find the park,I call it cruel and maybe the root of all crueltyto know what occurs but not recognize the fact.And so I appeal to a voice, to something shadowy,a remote important region in all who talk:though we could fool each other, we should consider —lest the parade of our mutual life gets lost in the dark.For it is important that awake people be awake,or a breaking line may discourage them back to sleep;the signals we give — yes or no, or maybe —should be clear: the darkness around us is deep.Stafford, William. From "A Ritual We Read to Each Other," in Stories That Could Be True. New York: Harper and Row, 1977.
Thank you again for your comment; I find each and every one of them thought provoking and/or highly entertaining. This one was both! Also, I'm so happy that you continue to enjoy the blog.:-)
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