Isak Dinesen: “I write a little every day, without hope and without despair.”
Some days, the little is…quite little. I am not exactly taking a break from reading and writing, but a great deal of my reading these days is student-written work; and the writing tends to be corrective.
There are also events in one’s life that tend to push back against the time needed to dwell on creative things.
Kurt Vonnegut: “So it goes.”
I’m re-reading Descartes. The best part of his philosophical writing, in my opinion, deals with his conscious desire to remove all prejudicial thinking from his mind. I have my doubts as to his success in that regard, but I love the splendidness of trying to attain the mental tabula rasa. Open-mindedness, a virtue more human beings should strive to embrace.
And there is also exhaustion, pure and simple. Some days, I need my rest.
February: awaiting the snowdrops’ blooms. (They’re nearing…the white tips are visible, enclosed in the deep green spathes.) Meanwhile, fragrant yellow winterhazel.