Plowing the Sod (סוֹד‎)

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“Thou shalt write each and every day.  The profound and the mundane, thou shalt write of it.”

 

101914_1729_Somedays1.jpgAnd it was evening, and it was morning.  The first day.

A quickly passing squall left the stoop to damp to sit in this morning, so I sit in my cozy but messy studio to sip coffee and consider the world through my PC monitor.  I think we have flogged Harvey Weinstein sufficiently, but I doubt that our ever-vigilant press is done with him.

The Kurds are showing unusual strength in dealing with independence.  Even Iran fears them.  I can’t help but think it is because they do support Israel, though I do think their zeal is more politically driven than ideological.  Still, Israel is the place to look when fighting a war when you are surrounded by the enemy.

So I turn from world events back to my usual self-absorbed musings.  Soon Snooks will be wondering where her brunch is, and I am still in PJ’s.  Enya plays in the background, mostly for Kippur da Budgie’s benefit.  She needs noise, and I desire silence.  Enya is soft enough that I can bear the intrusion into the cottony softness of my morning reverie.

I have gone back to the beginnings in my cerebral life.  The beginnings of faith.  The beginnings of Scripture.  I want to hear once again that voice that quickened me those many long years ago.  Knowledge is wonderful stuff, but experience is what secures truth.

So I thumb my nose at Saint Paul.  I’ll return to a milk diet and a time when God moved mightily within me and demons ran from me.  Of course, there were people who didn’t see the fire in me, just the obnoxiousness, but I have acquired a few manners since them.

Maybe after I am on this milk run awhile I will return to the Sod (סוֹד‎), the deep, the esoteric.  But I am weary of digging for treasures.  An old pragmatic sage I once knew used to say that if a mystical thought can’t get you to work on Monday morning, it is idle speculation and not contemplation.  Well, you would have had to know him and been there.

And I have run out of time.  I can stall no more.  Time to mix up some waffle batter and drop it in the waffle iron.

Good morning!

One thought on “Plowing the Sod (סוֹד‎)

    A Perfectmindstorm said:
    October 15, 2017 at 7:27 pm

    I have something to say about that whole Weinstein thing, but will save it for my own little place here on the web.

    I think it does everyone good to go back to the “milk” on occasion to reaffirm one’s beliefs . Soon enough you will be ready to sink your teeth into the “meat” again.

    And I will have to say “goodnight” to your “good morning” since I am just now seeing this.

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