It's not enough just to be here
every day. You've got to do something. These past few mornings, I begin to question whether I have been doing anything worth doing. Part of the problem is not finding the time to assess what I've accomplished. You can't judge if you don't take the time to judge. And I've been finding it difficult to take time to review at year's end.
Perhaps while we spend a week in Cozumel from January 6-13 I shall be able to do some self-assessment - what I've achieved, what I hope for next.
It is interesting that my Curlew: Home memoir wasn't planned. Looking back, I can see that I set the possibility, but it wasn't planned. What can I work to start setting up now?
Snow is falling, quite a whipping of it, making it extremely difficult to deny that now it's winter here. Of course Buffalo, NY, might have a harder time denying winter than I do - they've seen 55 inches of snow since Monday, and another 25 inches forecast.
Now they might be able to complain a little.
Here the river keeps on being a river; the flag at the cemetery keeps flapping; that Stellmacher fellow keeps walking south along Highway E into Fairwater; the snow keeps accumulating on the highway; I keep wondering where I'm headed. I'm going north, I know that, yet what lies beyond direction and distance, what is beyond today and tomorrow. What's out there just beyond my reach?
I suppose instead of being sad that he is caught in the cycle of death and life and death, one ought to rejoice in the cycle of life and death and life.
What's left when everything is gone? What was here, in this place, before the universe got here to occupy it?
Think too many of these thoughts, Tom, you'll never get to work.
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