Having these past forty years of life a desire to taste of pleasure and delight—and having tasted—I consider myself something of an expert on Beauty, on pleasure and delight. Alas, with humility I must confess a dilettante’s knowledge, only. Though, had there been a course of study or even a course of lectures on the…
There is pleasure in the contemplation of the object one desires; there is a pleasure in tasting, touching, hearing or seeing the object; and there is a pleasure in the remembrance of the object enjoyed. This pleasure, what is it? Is pleasure specific to the object and unique to the person, or is pleasure general…
Why We Remember Forgotten Patriots Many states and localities commemorate African American History Month. The wisdom to be derived from the commemoration is necessary and useful. Yet, we must remember our history, I say “our history,” because the history of these United States is not coded by color, is not sub-divided by gender; the accomplishment…
The bird learns to fly by being pushed from the nest. Sea turtles know they must run to the ocean. Baby ducks ride mother’s back until learning by example to swim. The tadpole grows legs and hops; the caterpillar grows wings and flies; what must the finger-painter grow to become a picture-maker. Certain you have…
Fellow Americans: You might be surprised to learn that you are Greek, in the first instance; that you are Roman, a child of Lucius Junius Brutus; that you are Catholic, even if atheist; that you ascend from victories in the Art of War; that you, fellow Americans, are Hellenocentric, even if citizens of the One…
You might like to know: my Sun is in Venus, my Scorpio is Ascendant, my Mars is in Pisces, my Venus is in Virgo, my Moon is in Taurus … that art is varied, variable of element, color, form. You might like to know, that Art is the idea made real; that Art is fashioned…
You know, perhaps, the meaning of the word, “poetry”, derives, as does most everything of civil worth, from the Greek, “poesis”, a word descriptive of, “making”. A poem is a thing made, alike a rocking chair, French fries, a statue; a poem is a thing made for a purpose: practical use, sensual joy, humane growth,…
The seasons of our lives, love to birth to death, bring moments of joy, of hope, of loss, occasions by which we learn to be in others, ourselves. These occasions, the courting, the marriage, the birthday, the anniversary, the funeral and that final epitaph each deserve words appropriate to the occasion, suitable to the person. …
The homes of the gods are most often constructed near their sacred springs, the site of their miracles, their births, or the location of some occasional visitation. Most often, at home, there was a table for feasting, then, as now, known as an “altar”. There was a porch, maybe two, and within the main room…
For most of us, Aeolus is difficult, if not impossible to see, being “Wind”, as he is. Even so, watch the leaves, as on this October day I have done. If you will do as I have done, you will see, as did Leonardo, the pattern of the god, the twist and the turn of…
Many years ago, beneath nine, lovely, star-snowed nights, Mnemosyne [ne-mos-ie-ne] enjoyed the favor of Zeus-shepherd, each night bearing forth from love a Muse, as Hesiod in Theogony relates. Before the Muse History (Clio), before Love Poetry (Erato), before Song (Euterpe) and all the rest, there was Memory (Mnemosyne), god borne, corporeal, beautiful. We muse in…
A Review of Civilization in Little Songs: You, friend, ascend from many victories. All who read these words shall know we won, that we through three millennia have won upon the bloody fields of contest; that through rolls of papyrus, through vellum folios, through books stitched in hard-covered paper we won the sharp battle of…
The dancing step, the telling gesture, memory in movement; we can imagine the joy, the ritual, the sacrifice to God in our days cave-safe, firelit some 40,000 years before this day, creatures as now we are yet without advantage, without these past millennia of humane tradition, the gift of thought, the accumulation of wisdom that…
Reality is a mundane enchantment, a make-believe typical to creatures of our type, to sensate creatures who cannot see over the horizon, who cannot hear through walls, who feel but by direct touch, whose peculiar quality of taste can be known only to the self, alone. We are pretty creatures, flesh alike pearl, geometric in…
