Thursday, November 22, 2012
Gratitude
I'm grateful that time heals most wounds, and the ones it doesn't heal it eventually makes tolerable. I'm grateful that Paul Theroux has published four new novels since the last time I looked. Most of his fiction is about white people falling into sad and sordid lives in tropical places. Reading his stuff feels like affirmation of my life's story, at least the Africa years. I'm grateful that the Sixteenth Street Bridge--barely visible in the right side of this photo--is so beautiful, with its ornate stonework and sculptured seahorses. I'm grateful for this strange little park that overlooks the Strip District, near downtown. It's a seldom-visited place just off the crazy-busy Bigelow Boulevard. I'm grateful that the Hegelian dialectic can be applied to a human life like mine: orientation, disorientation, reorientation. When some form of disorientation comes along to disturb the status quo, we always want to move back to what we had before. And yet, life's call is always forward to the new thing, the next thing. I'm grateful that I'm finally coming to grips with having moved here from the Allegheny National Forest.
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