Yesterday when I walked home from the commuter station, it was a Lockean evening, not John Lockean but Goldilockean: not too hot, not too cold, just right; and a neighbourhood boy jogged by towing his little brother on a skateboard. A woman with unguarded gray hair watered flowers, and as a man passed she called "want a shower?" before impishly flicking the garden hose so a jump rope of water rose and stray drops descended on him, making him turn to her and laugh like someone surprised by joy. Following, I renewed my vow to love God entirely every moment.
You'll also enjoy...
Home and Heart
What happens, though, when the very notion of home is in the hands of a race of perpetual Phileas Foggs? If it was a stunning feat for a Victorian to leave home and travel around the world in 80 days, what can home possibly signify to moderns whose feet rarely touch the ground? ...
Responding to the Wreckage Around Me
In the words of Father Julian Carron, who led our exercises: "There will be no faithfulness unless there is the question to which Christ is the answer At the end of the spiritual exercises for our fraternity, Father Carron had a concrete suggestion: Start over, every day, until it is not I who live,...
An Assault on Cynicism
Discussing the American critical curmudgeon Alfred Kazin, Epstein writes: "He was a man perpetually ticked off, a walking wound in search of a salt shaker Brooks elaborates expanding circles of Epsteinian salt-shaker-seeking that both bedevil the American political system and perpetuate falsehoods a...