Tag Archives: Life

Sunday Romance: Conversations with Athena

In the conversation that followed, we recalled the June day, over ten years ago, when we had first sat next to each other in a public speaking class. She teasingly reminded me how shy I had been.

I pictured her back then, sharing scenes from her social life: her stories a playful medley, drawing me in, subverting my best defenses. High school I had spent seeking refuge in a social cubbyhole. Finding myself seated next to this blonde, lissome girl proved a culture shock. I might as well have shared a desk with the goddess Athena; our early conversations had been that one-sided. Linda had been patient with her shy neighbor, and gradually our conversations became a partnership. Through getting to know her, I had stepped into the sunlight. Seeing her again, I wanted to share this, but it came out this way: “I still think of our conversations before class. You were quite the raconteur.”

Such Stuff as Dreams Are Made on

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d tow’rs, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

Shakespeare, The Tempest

Hartwick Pines, Michigan

Art of Overlooking

The art of being wise is the art of knowing what to overlook.

William James

A quote that now holds personal meaning for me, as James suggests we choose not to respond to most negativity, either in our present or stored in the attic of  the past.

Newburgh Lake, Michigan

Sunday Cathedral in the Ancient Trees

This is the largest stand of unlogged trees in Michigan, at Hartwick Pines.  Some of the oldest began their life’s journey  when the early French explorers were paddling their canoes on the Great Lakes in the 1700s.  By late evening, the sunlight has fled the lower stories of the forest, leaving its golden traces aloft.

Hartwick Pines, Michigan