This is what Karl Marx actually said: The struggle against religion is, therefore, indirectly the struggle against that world whose spiritual aroma is religion. Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of… Continue reading The opium of the people
Category: Books
Christina in a bookshop
I was dumbfounded: confounded and struck dumb at the same time. It was a congenial place to be, I discovered, being content to stay there a while, sheltered in the dignity and grace of not knowing, that is, shedding false knowledge. But now I find myself wanting to speak, for which I must pay the… Continue reading Christina in a bookshop
Fingers and Moon
I was dumbfounded: confounded and struck dumb at the same time. It was a congenial place to be, I discovered, being content to stay there a while, sheltered in the dignity and grace of not knowing, that is, shedding false knowledge. . . . But now I find myself wanting to speak, for which I… Continue reading Fingers and Moon
Full Circle
. I've kept this post in for the comments only See "The Buddha and the Corpse" for a more interesting post
The Buddha and the Corpse
"What’s that book you’re reading?" asks my neighbour, curiously. There’s a score of us arranged along the cobblestones, leaning against the retaining wall of the public gardens—le Square du Vert Galant. We are proud to be Les Beatniks of Paris, or Les Clochards - the hobos. We’re blocking the public path that borders the dark… Continue reading The Buddha and the Corpse
Getting spruced up
This could describe me: While out walking I’ve formulated perfect phrases which I can’t remember when I get home. I’m not sure if the ineffable poetry of these phrases belongs totally to what they were (and which I forgot), or partly to what they weren’t. [from fragment 399 of The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando… Continue reading Getting spruced up
The God Interviews
I find writing here harder and harder, sometimes labouring for days over a draft and then scrapping it. In the early days I’d write simply, with the freshness and naïveté of an unguarded moment among friends; something I only manage now in comments and emails, which might be a bit loose and slapdash, but seldom… Continue reading The God Interviews
Anam Ċara
I ended a recent post, “On Being Animal”, with these words: To become animal is to regain Eden. This is why I don’t have a use for the word “spirituality”. I take those words back. In any case they don’t make too much sense. It’s tedious of me to be so pedantic, and something that… Continue reading Anam Ċara
La Vie en Rosé
The art of Natalie D’Arbeloff, which often combines image and text, has a directness and simplicity that may at first sight appear childlike. But it’s quite the reverse. For all its immediacy, it’s both subtle and profound, adult in the best as opposed to the X-rated sense. It comes from someone who knows the world… Continue reading La Vie en Rosé
Why did the R101 Crash?
I mentioned in the comments section of my last that scientists these days are dependent on research funding, academic tenure etc., so they may feel constrained in what they can say or do; whereas in the nineteenth century and earlier, scientists could speculate fearlessly. Agreeing with this, Natalie suggested that some ideas derided by orthodoxy… Continue reading Why did the R101 Crash?
On being an animal
What I really wanted to say in my last was: “I am an animal”. The intended piece got hijacked by its own introduction, if you can believe that. “I am an animal” sounds like an oxymoron, requires an explanation before you can make sense of it. “I am . . .” implies awareness. “Animal” implies… Continue reading On being an animal
Intelligent Design
I’m sure there must be various ways to introduce the elements of science in schools, some good and some bad. Let the reader judge. Aged 9, I was excited by the prospect of Science lessons. We started by proving the existence of air, a project which seemed disappointingly trivial and uninteresting. We thought we knew… Continue reading Intelligent Design
On Human Behaviour
Sartre in 1955 Among the comments on my last, Ellie referred to some words by Jean-Paul Sartre. I have expanded her quotation a little, for its context: “We are left alone, without excuse. That is what I mean when I say man is condemned to be free. Condemned, because he did not create himself, yet… Continue reading On Human Behaviour
A traveller’s stale
From ‘A Factless Biography’ fragment 451, in Richard Zenith’s translation of The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando Pessoa, who lived in a small Lisbon apartment Travel? One need only exist to travel. I go from day to day, as from station to station, in the train of my body or my destiny, leaning out over… Continue reading A traveller’s stale
I am not a machine
Click for an animated version of this diagram I spent days trying to compose a sequel to my last post about Maggie Boden’s book, The Creative Mind. She had outlined a science of creativity, leaning on her expertise in Computational Psychology, which she more or less invented. A learned paper says ‘Computational psychologists are “theorists… Continue reading I am not a machine
The Creative Mind
The other morning I turned on Radio 4 whilst washing the breakfast dishes and it sounded interesting, a kind of reminiscence. I’d missed the beginning and took a little while to catch on. I liked the sound of the lady though, full of fun, approachable and without false modesty. When she mentioned a former post… Continue reading The Creative Mind
Fields of Blood
Imagine an impassioned debate at the Oxford Union, “That this House finds Religion to Have Been the Cause of All the Major Wars in History.” Arguing for the motion, suggests Karen Armstrong, would be “American commentators and psychiatrists, London taxi drivers and Oxford academics.” Arguing against, at unnecessary length, is Karen Armstrong’s new book, Fields… Continue reading Fields of Blood
Inner & Outer Landscape
I decided to go for my usual loaf of bread by a circuitous route, over the Pastures; or rather, my feet took me that way while I readied myself to share what I had to say to Olympus, my companion of the road, expert at listening because he’s a state-of-the-art voice recorder. You’ll see from… Continue reading Inner & Outer Landscape
Stepping on Air
I ’ve spent a few weeks in awe and praise of Meister Eckhart. I’ve had enough of him for the time being. I’ve no intention to publish a draft-in-progress called “More on Disinterest”. Indeed, this morning I find myself arguing against him: him and his way to God, wherein he places disinterest above love: The… Continue reading Stepping on Air
Stepping aside
I had no thought of doing an audio diary, nor for that matter of producing a music video, let alone combining the two into a hybrid. Some things evolve by accident: you and I for example, if you can believe it, have evolved in exactly that way. Certainly the best things in my life have… Continue reading Stepping aside
Rebuilding from within
By day, my bedroom window is transformed into a viewing platform to watch the renascence of my Sun-dial Factory across the road. On April 29th 2013, I wrote a piece beginning: I see things as imbued with meaning, like fragments written in a foreign language. Sometimes I can decipher them; sometimes even put them in… Continue reading Rebuilding from within
Colloquy
I was moved by Ellie's recent comment: We engage in a colloquy reflecting one another’s light through the jewel of our own perception. In my last I spoke of the sound of waves breaking on the shore, and in subsequent comments the ebb and flow of tides. May this blog share the connectivity and outreach… Continue reading Colloquy
The Lord is my shepherd
God is nameless, because no one can say anything or understand anything about him. It was for statements like this that the Dominican friar known as Meister Eckhart was nearly condemned as a heretic. He was an employee of the Catholic Church, an organization which claimed an exclusive right to say things about God; and… Continue reading The Lord is my shepherd
A Coney Island of the Mind
This is for you, dear poet of my youth, still 23 years and 21 days older than me (therefore 95), still here with the rest of us, enabling me to write this with a possibility it might reach you. I would say I’ve admired you from afar, but it’s not true, for I spent fifty… Continue reading A Coney Island of the Mind
The printing-factory
I wonder why, out of the mass of all we forget, some inconsequential things stick in our minds. Perhaps they chime with our destiny, that elusive future no one can see till it arrives. And when it does, perhaps something from our rag-bag of memories may “ring a bell”, as if it had been foreshadowed.… Continue reading The printing-factory
Divine Economy?
Stepping out the door into sunshine or cloud, nothing on my mind, I marvel at what it is to be human. It’s like being in a strange land with no map. Here am I, familiar to myself. Slowly I change, but not as fast as the world around me. I'm more comfortable with things as… Continue reading Divine Economy?
Gaia Warriors
Nicola Davies’ book about climate change has hardly set the world on fire. Since its publication in 2009, it has attracted two reader reviews on Amazon: one in UK, one in US. It’s a lavishly-produced paperback, large format, bold use of colours and fonts; but I don’t think it’s selling too well now. You can… Continue reading Gaia Warriors
A Very English View
In my last I said “I hope to return to this theme in another post”. I had mentioned the Bible, in the King James Version completed in 1611. In its time and for several centuries it was Holy Writ, an authority not to be questioned by its readers, till developments in science, evolutionary theory and… Continue reading A Very English View
Discussion on Education
From D. H Lawrence’s Women in Love. Scene: in the garden at Breadalby, where Hermione entertains her house-guests. Her brother Alexander Roddice is a member of Parliament. There had been a split in the Cabinet; the minister for Education had resigned owing to adverse criticism. This started a conversation on education. “Of course,” said Hermione,… Continue reading Discussion on Education
Intersecting worlds
Reality is composed of many interwoven strands and nowhere are these delineated more vividly than in The Sun Temple. What shall I call it? A treatise? A short story? A memoir? A traveller’s tale? It’s all of these and a masterpiece of erudite psychedelia as well. Above all it is searingly honest and true, never… Continue reading Intersecting worlds
To my literary agent
Dear — If I knew your name, I wouldn’t be writing like this to you, in public. But we haven’t yet met. We’re still two lonely hearts, so to speak, seeking one another. I did write to an agent last year: one whose web page says I am willing to be seduced, amazed, charmed, or moved. What… Continue reading To my literary agent
Walking on air
There was a programme on BBC Radio 4 about the writing life. At this moment, it’s only available to “listen again” for another five days, so I’d better get on and publish this. In any event, I’ve made a transcript of the important bit. It starts at 22:26 and you can hear the full audio… Continue reading Walking on air
a letter from Vincent
[Arles, Mid-October 1888] My dear Theo, At last I am sending you a small sketch to give you at least an idea of the form which the work is taking. For today I am all right again. My eyes are still tired, but then I had a new idea in my head and here is… Continue reading a letter from Vincent
Revisit
Rediscovered today I bought this book in Paris fifty years ago. It became a kind of Bible to me, to read and re-read till I grasped its difficult meaning. Years later. in a fit of extreme decluttering I gave it away along with all my other worldly goods; whereby hangs a tale, somewhat related to… Continue reading Revisit
The Evolution of God
Limited by space, a frog in the well has no idea what is the ocean. Limited by time, an insect in summer has no idea what is ice. Limited by intellect, a man in life has no idea what is Consciousness. — Chuang Tzu (369 BC-286 BC), tr Herbert A. Giles In my reading, I’m… Continue reading The Evolution of God
The View from Nowhere
A year ago, Bryan White and I collaborated on an ambitious book project. I can’t quite recall the start point, though I think it originated in a conversation conducted in the comment columns of this site. Not surprisingly in hindsight, it soon foundered, but its remnants are a matter of public record as a blog… Continue reading The View from Nowhere
Acknowledgements
Masochistically, I’d planned to spend much time and ink writing a structured essay on literacy; covering texting, graffiti, tweeting, Facebook, Wikipedia, hyperlinking, spellcheck, online thesaurus, apostrophe confusion, grammatical mangling, metaphor insensitivity, the history of books from Gilgamesh to Kindle, the National Novel-Writing Month, the demise of the typewriter, my mania for fountain pens, registrar’s ink,… Continue reading Acknowledgements
Everything Knows
by Ghetufool “The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the Eyes of others only a Green thing that stands in the way. Some see Nature all Ridicule and Deformity...”—Blake I’ve published two of Ghetu’s stories before: Free as a Bird and Ticket to Paradise. Here is his latest. Like the others,… Continue reading Everything Knows
Bach and Blackbird
I was driving to the supermarket in the rain. The CD player had come on, and was at no. 14 of Bach’s Goldberg Variations, by the pianist Glenn Gould. It was the 1981 re-recording as opposed to his debut album in 1955 playing the same 31 pieces. This later version stands out for the dramatic… Continue reading Bach and Blackbird
The Book of Disquiet
Art consists in making others feel what we feel, in freeing them from themselves by offering them our own personality. From The Book of Disquiet, by Fernando Pessoa, translated from the Portuguese by Richard Zenith; numbered section 260 Art frees us, illusorily, from the squalor of being. from section 270 There are certain books which… Continue reading The Book of Disquiet
Let Spring be my muse
Things are happening in hedgerow and pasture; a spate of fresh worm-casts; larks twittering; occasional sardonic comments by crows. A suddenly-surprised cock pheasant flaps away from me, going airborne in its panic, plumage bejewelled and voice like a rusty klaxon. Last year’s sunflower-heads, haggard and desiccated, stand witness to the kindness of supplying winter provender… Continue reading Let Spring be my muse
Mister God, this is Anna
Reading Nietzsche is like having a guide show you round your home town—perhaps your own street. He takes you to a familiar blank wall, and shows you cracks in the smooth surface. “So what?” you think and then he takes your hand and you go through each crack to an unfamiliar vista on the other… Continue reading Mister God, this is Anna
Sacred places
Books I’ve recently read convey snatches of the lore whereby sacred places may be recognized and visited. I find myself wanting to quote from them. But I must refer only to what I know, sketchy or part-submerged in the subconscious as that may be. David Abram for example speaks of certain peoples, on the fringes… Continue reading Sacred places
In memory of George Whitman, 1913-2011
I once spent a few weeks as George Whitman’s guest in his bookshop opposite Notre Dame in Paris. Today I heard of his death on the news. I’ve mentioned him three times on this blog: in May 2008, May 2009 and Feb 2011*. It has always been difficult to write about the man himself, for… Continue reading In memory of George Whitman, 1913-2011
Straw Dogs
In his book John Gray is a demolisher, razing to the ground almost every idea which offers hope, whether it comes from science, religion, humanism or any other -ism. It’s not a long book. You can get through it in a couple of days: easily but not comfortably, unless you’ve already sacrificed all the sacred… Continue reading Straw Dogs
Becoming Animal
I had thought of writing a review of David Abram’s book, Becoming Animal, but the breadth of its vision, the variety of its original ideas, the density of its poetical descriptions would take a long time to digest, before I could say anything of value. It would have been easier if I didn’t admire it… Continue reading Becoming Animal
Gilgamesh, a book for our time
The Epic of Gilgamesh is the world’s oldest written tale, going back 4000 years. (See timeline at foot of this article.) It has survived by virtue of being impressed on clay tablets buried in the desert in “cuneiform”, the oldest known form of writing, which dates back 5000 years. Only with the work of generations… Continue reading Gilgamesh, a book for our time
Mission
The photos alongside were taken on a walk in Flackwell Heath I confess to a constant need: to have a sense of mission. I don’t suppose this makes me any different from any other man—I specifically mean man as opposed to woman, child or any other specimen from the imaginative catalogue of God’s creatures. I… Continue reading Mission
Museums and Women
Lately I seem to be getting more from literature than from life. A misleading observation, since reading is an act performed like any other, in life, as opposed to a dream. Again, this is misleading. Leisure reading fires the imagination as dreams do. By "life" we sometimes mean living, in the sense of an interactive… Continue reading Museums and Women
Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone 4
I've always been irritated by the stilted translation of Camus' famous book by Justin O'Brien, and offered my own to the publisher, Penguin Books.They informed me that this translation was copyrighted as the only translation, so my efforts were a dead duck. I'd read French and Italian literature for my degree at the University of… Continue reading Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone 4
Homer’s Odyssey
It matters a lot which translation of a book you read. I confess to being super-fussy about these things. I hear a piano concerto or symphony, for example, and compare it unfavourably with one which impinged on my consciousness years ago, perhaps in my teens. (You’ll have to trust me on this. It’s the impinging,… Continue reading Homer’s Odyssey
Affinity
Why do I write, if I can’t write any better? But what would become of me if I didn’t write what I can, however inferior it may be to what I am? In my ambitions, I am a plebeian, because I try to achieve; like someone in a dark room, I’m afraid to be silent.… Continue reading Affinity
Dreaming spires
Oxford is everything that my own town is not, and it’s only 30 miles away. I decided Park and Ride was the best way to enter in triumph, using my new electronic bus pass, on a superb day in June, discovering that the students are in exams and the streets are a motley of tourists.… Continue reading Dreaming spires
By Bus and Canal
When I take a bus ride, I journey to the past. Subconsciously, this is my intended destination, for I could have taken the car instead, and “saved time”. I have no reason to save time any more. Now is my invitation to spend it freely; to use if I wish to sift my past, like… Continue reading By Bus and Canal
Bin Laden Dies
Ghetu asked me what I thought, as a ‘common Britisher’, of Bin Laden’s recent death. I responded as follows: I’m more of an uncommon Britisher, but I’m pretty sure there are others who think like me. America deliberately chose its fight with Islam after the end of Soviet communism. America it seems has to have… Continue reading Bin Laden Dies
The Search for Meaning
I had a gift token to spend at the only bookshop in town, didn’t see anything I wanted. But then I was drawn to a certain book. I looked at it the first time rather idly, and thought to myself, “No, this is written by a Viennese psychiatrist. I have had enough of them.” I… Continue reading The Search for Meaning
Books
I haven’t been writing because I’ve been reading so much. One book leads to another and the Kindle Reader has a lot to answer for. Snuggled in bed late at night, cradling the thing in its handsome leather case and its own light just bright enough to illuminate the page of black and white e-inks,… Continue reading Books
Wittgenstein
Restored to its original form after some unwise revisionism in 2021 The other day I was writing about being nineteen and somehow feeling the same way fifty years later. But it was a mysterious feeling because I could not adduce a single instance of nineteenhood to illustrate my point. So it is a coincidence that… Continue reading Wittgenstein
Discovering Wittgenstein
The other day I was writing about being nineteen and somehow feeling the same way fifty years later. But it was a mysterious feeling because I could not adduce a single instance of nineteenhood to illustrate my point. So it is a coincidence that I first discovered Wittgenstein at that age. Discovered is hardly the… Continue reading Discovering Wittgenstein
Preface Mark III
Not previously published on Wayfarer's Notes I still haven’t given up on “the book of the blog”. When I do, this place can become “the blog of the book”, but don’t worry, it will be the same blog, going off in the same haphazard directions. In December last, I dashed off a Preface followed by… Continue reading Preface Mark III
My Kindle Reader
Comment in October 2024: this was written in 2011, after a friend had persuaded Karleen to invest in the latest Kindle, now extinct and called the "Paperwhite" on account of its screen technology. See this contemporary review. I bought one for myself. These days we are content with an up-to-date model, for reading aloud in… Continue reading My Kindle Reader
Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone (3)
My objective in producing a new translation of this philosophical essay has been to write as Albert Camus might have done, if English were his native language and he had used it as the medium for dashing off his fevered ideas. This translation work has come to a halt, perhaps permanently. But if I do… Continue reading Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone (3)
On reading the Bible
When I read, I like to make an orgy of it, especially on a rainy winter’s day, curled up in my armchair in front of the glowing embers of a log fire. One book is not enough, I want to be surrounded by them, drawn into their world where time and space are condensed into… Continue reading On reading the Bible
Happiness machine
Matt Lowe of the blog “Liberal Jesus” wrote a post pointing to an article in the New York Times. Matt admitted “I can’t figure out quite what I think about it. I need a little goading I think.” I hastily appended my own working definition of happiness: that it's when one can say "I don't… Continue reading Happiness machine
Soul of an animal
The soul is feminine, I mean passive. It initiates nothing, does nothing but feel. It seems helpless to assert itself against will and intellect; like a slug on the sidewalk after rain, defenceless against accidental or deliberate squashing by human feet; or like a majestic brooding silence, the silence of a wilderness, defeated by the… Continue reading Soul of an animal
Preface
Intended as preface to a book I was planning in December, 2010 The soul is feminine, I mean passive. It does nothing but feel. Will and intellect are the masculine elements, delighting in action and creativity for their own sakes. In young men is a naturally warlike instinct: to fight, regardless of the cause espoused,… Continue reading Preface
Lambs and us
All you need to be a philosopher is to ask “Why?” By this standard, most three-year-olds are philosophers. When he hears the obvious answer, a philosopher thinks, “I’m not satisfied with this. There must be more to it!” The three-year-old responds to every answer with a further “Why?” until the adult tires of the game.… Continue reading Lambs and us
Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone (2)
Le Mythe de Sisyphe: essai sur l’absurde Albert Camus © 1942 Éditions Gallimard Translation © 2010 Ian Vincent Mulder Continued from extract (1): So what is this mysterious feeling which deprives us of vital sleep? A world explicable with reasons, even if they are bad reasons, remains a familiar world. But take away the illusions,… Continue reading Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone (2)
Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone (1)
Le Mythe de Sisyphe: essai sur l’absurde Albert Camus © 1942 Éditions Gallimard Translation © 2010 Ian Vincent Mulder I've decided to publish extracts of my new translation, which remains unfinished, on this blog, starting below: This book is about a certain sensitivity, which I call “the absurd”. You will find traces of it scattered… Continue reading Sisyphus and the Rolling Stone (1)
The Denial of Death
According to Ernest Becker, the wellspring of human action is the fear of death: correction, the denial of the fear of death. In his Preface, he actually says that the “prospect of death . . . is the mainspring of human activity” (my italics). He makes short work of the real fear of real death,… Continue reading The Denial of Death
The Joker Chuang-Tzu
Raymond Sigrist, by doing nothing and making no recommendation, finally got me to start reading Chuang Tzu. When I write about books, I adopt the same strategy as an unscrupulous professional reviewer: read a few pages, then rush headlong to the typewriter. Not that I can’t be bothered to read it through, but there’s nothing… Continue reading The Joker Chuang-Tzu
Hell! said the Duchess
Hayden commented on my last with some excellent remarks on how to start a story, including the following: I love broadness and specificity in a beginning. A sense of mystery that isn't addressed by the ample facts stated. The facts situate the event in a time and space, anchor it if you will. The mystery,… Continue reading Hell! said the Duchess
The secret life of strangers
How is it possible to remember a moment when nothing actually happened? I don’t know, but such moments are the ones I remember most vividly. There were some major works being done on the railway line which affected the bridge above, in the middle of the village’s main street. In consequence, traffic on the bridge… Continue reading The secret life of strangers
Death will win
This sky is my paper, asking me to write on its clear blue surface, perhaps in sepia ink with my new fountain-pen. But it doesn’t tell me what to write. I don’t care, for my pleasure is in the writing more than the content. Gazing at the blue sky, I welcome the little clouds. Uninterrupted… Continue reading Death will win
Amber
Writing is a medium for the preservation of thoughts. Within the preservative—a string of words— the thoughts are embedded or entangled, just as prehistoric insects are caught in amber. Even if we find insects—the subject matter, the thought itself—repulsive, we can still admire the golden translucence and high polish of a piece of amber. If… Continue reading Amber
Not Knowing
I have just decided, on behalf of humanity as a whole, that not knowing is good. In any event, it pervades our lives as a fact. How many times a day do we say, “You never know;” or “God knows,” with its unsaid “(I don’t)”? To endorse the virtue of uncertainty, I finally stopped dithering… Continue reading Not Knowing
User-friendly
I really haven’t got time to write anything here. This makes it all the more important to do it anyway, for I write to discover what I really think. Think? I’m not referring to “detached thought”, that attempt to be rational that we learn as a trick, as a performing seal balances a beach-ball on… Continue reading User-friendly
The slug, my ancestor
Andrew Marr’s Start the Week programme on BBC radio had four scientists as guests, including Richard Dawkins, that missionary for his indivisible cause, “evolution and atheism”. Perhaps he is the progenitor of that hybrid, for I don’t recall Darwin himself being an atheist. I understand Dawkins’ line of reasoning well enough. But where we differ… Continue reading The slug, my ancestor
The Pocket Diarist
The postman left a package which felt like a small book. Not expecting any such thing, I was delighted; then opened it, and was Deloitted. Deloitte Touche is the current incarnation of a company I left in 1985, known then as Touche Ross & Co, Accountants. I was in their management consultancy, but now I’m… Continue reading The Pocket Diarist
Unto the hills
“When I was someone else, that I am not now ...” continued. Let us assume that each one of us contains multiple personalities. Vincent exists in the written word, is not quite the same as his author, who inhabits other dimensions never written down. Vincent is several persons, separated by time-slices, spliced together into fragments… Continue reading Unto the hills
Here I’ll stay
Two years ago, when I’d just moved into this house and couldn’t get online, I’d go to the internet café on the Desborough Road and compose a blog post in an hour. One post, “Being Ordinary”, is an example, perhaps the only one, and didn’t work out too badly. Where did that simple spontaneity go?… Continue reading Here I’ll stay
The mysterious impulse
"It would be idle to inquire why Mr Razumov has left this record behind him. It is inconceivable that he should have wished any human eye to see it. A mysterious impulse of human nature comes into play here. Putting aside Samuel Pepys, who has forced in this way the door of immortality, [we observe… Continue reading The mysterious impulse
Want and need
“We all want. We all need. When want overpowers need, our perspective gets skewed. I say, want all you want—wanting motivates. However, need very little and you will almost always be satisfied.” (Pauline’s latest post made me think, and my comments on her post expanded afterwards into the stuff below.. They appear as by Hendrix,… Continue reading Want and need
Intrepid Victorians (2)
I mentioned in my last that Dolomite Strongholds is illustrated by the author, with his photos, colour lithographs and pen drawings. As I browsed this beautifully-produced book, a delicate sheet of folded paper slid out, containing pen drawings (traced on top of original pencil sketches) on both sides. None of these were incorporated into the… Continue reading Intrepid Victorians (2)
a wayfarer’s notes 