evening

For whatever reason I decided that 10:05 was a good time to take the kayak off the roof of my truck and put it back on the deck, only to reverse the process at first light. Security, peace of mind, I’m not sure. It did get me walking slowly outside, staring up more than across, at the stars, which are bright, framed in whispy clouds.

I did the task, then sat down upon a bench, and looked up at the stars, my head against the back rail, as though I was at a planetarium show with the special headrests and projected night.

This was real, and for a moment I was entranced, feeling the wonders of this world around. Only a moment, before the vague irritations of being in a forest, but also in a small populated town, began to encroach on my mind.

I miss the islands off the coast. The last place I could see and hear the night without human interference.

Still, though, the passage through the day ending with the staring at the night was welcomed.

I did read, making hundred or so pages of Josephus checked off, realizing again how things really do not change in this world. I haven’t read the book in about nine years, and it is entrancing in a way I forgot. The world of Jesus was significantly different than our pictures of it suggest. Indeed, the whitewashed history we conceive of is just as foreign as the blonde hair of tall messiah. Humans are a vile and violent creature if given half, a quarter, of a chance.

The fact I’m reading this, and looking at other texts again, is telling. My passion to study techological books has subsided, my interests are fading back into those soul enriching realms, where eternity lurks in pages and pens.

Now, though, I am tired, figuring that after a couple of days of consideration, I am fighting off some low-level illness which doesn’t strike strong as much as undercuts my energy. So, I’ll sleep tonight, and look forward to more reading, more steady progress, tomorrow.

It is also a telling thing that I consider Antony’s twenty years of solitude and maturation in a cave and think it to be a rather quick process on his part.

This is a long road indeed, especially when a person goes the scenic rout

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morning

The sun rose through the haze, high cirrus clouds thickening until now a thick gray mat covers the sky. They do not portend rain, merely summer gloom, something which is common in the valleys, very unusual in the mountains.

Painters are back again today, to protect the house from weather and worse, the first new paint this house has felt in thirty years.

I don’t mind. They are painted the back, where I usually sit and look out while writing or fiddling about on my computer.

The distraction drives me to other tasks, which are themselves in my soul. Josephus shall be read, as will Schurer and his revisors, Milton will make an appearance, and maybe even Matthew or Mark.

My eyes and head are computer weary I figured, and sad to say, I was so used to the feeling the cause did not occur very quickly.

So, distractions abound, and distractions push, leading me to do that which I should do on this day.

The weather fits my heart, and so I shall strive to change what I can. My heart, hopefully, the weather if I am particularly righteous.

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