Today I was struck by three acorns! Nature has a peculiar way of tapping us on the head when she wants to remind us of something. If it were a meteor, we’d call it apocalyptic. If it were a coin, we’d call it providence. But an acorn - that comic nut of destiny - is … Continue reading From Knock to Knell: An Autumnal Double Act
Tag: poetry
All Roads Lead Back: On Darwish, Memory, and the Futility of Forgetting
Mahmoud Darwish once wrote: ‘All roads lead to you, even those I took to forget you.’ On first reading, it sounds like the lament of a man caught in the undertow of lost love, circling endlessly back to the figure he most wishes to escape. But linger with it a while, and the line grows … Continue reading All Roads Lead Back: On Darwish, Memory, and the Futility of Forgetting
Maugham’s Cakes and Ale: On the Sacred Art of Not Taking Oneself Too Seriously
There are books one reads, and books one is quietly read by. Somerset Maugham’s Cakes and Ale falls into the latter camp - it observes you from over the rim of its brandy glass, raises a bemused eyebrow, and says absolutely nothing. Not because it’s shy, but because it knows better than to interrupt the theatre of … Continue reading Maugham’s Cakes and Ale: On the Sacred Art of Not Taking Oneself Too Seriously
“People Ruin Beautiful Things”: On Gibran, Secrecy, and the Sacred Art of Keeping Quiet
“Travel and tell no one, Live a true love story and tell no one, Live happily and tell no one - People ruin beautiful things.” They say Kahlil Gibran wrote that, and perhaps he did. Then again, the internet says many things: that Einstein married Marilyn Monroe, that Churchill coined every popular meme, and that … Continue reading “People Ruin Beautiful Things”: On Gibran, Secrecy, and the Sacred Art of Keeping Quiet
Hylas and the Cancelled Nymphs
“But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst...” – John 4:14 There’s a strange modern heresy creeping through the cathedrals of culture - a sort of secular iconoclasm, not content with smashing statues, now turns its withering gaze toward oil on canvas. I found myself reflecting on this the … Continue reading Hylas and the Cancelled Nymphs
Wording 