This is something I wrote almost 5 years ago. But I am re-posting it as a kind of lead in to something I’ve been working on the past few weeks, about astrology and its poor reputation. I had been trying to see clearly how binary stars move: “Lonely” Pluto’s been in the news lately due to the fly-by of the U.S. New Horizons probe. Startling images and geological questions have arisen, and two new moons have been photographed. But what piqued my interest was the pronounced wobble in Pluto’s motion, not a new discovery, which has to do with both the proximity and similarity in mass of it’s largest moon Charon. This led to a general investigation into how and why celestial bodies are influenced by each other in space, according to conventional physics.
If virus is the zeitgeist du jour, can facemask chic be far behind?
Spiritul insight, no matter how meager, is literally nothing, if not calm.
Seeing through the mists of sex, on occasion…
I estimate I’ve seen an indigo bunting about four, five at most, times in my life, always without searching for them. Today was one of those times, thanks to my first grader who is sort of being home-schooled at the moment given the virus. Each time I can’t quite believe the intensity of the blue.
Young Waldo comes of age, packed with ideals and oats, spends a decade on love’s battlefield, confronts the sinister edifice of romantic indifference and torpitude gone viral, goes back to the drawing board and resolves to double-down on his humanity, his mantra: “yes”…
So many precious moments I’ve lived, putting him to sleep after a long story. That sweet sweet interlude afterwards as he drifts off to paradise.