An eerie silence in the garden.
Early today I saw a rustle in the patch of grass in the middle of the garden, and a cat emerged, lethargically fleeing. Probably not coincidentally, there were far fewer…
Poca favilla gran fiamma seconda
Early today I saw a rustle in the patch of grass in the middle of the garden, and a cat emerged, lethargically fleeing. Probably not coincidentally, there were far fewer…
I blogged this paragraph from The Brendan Voyage – but here is something rather different from In Search of Moby Dick: “Not everything matched the old whaling lore. I was startled…
I also began to better understand why my exposure to the Trappist culture had a certain resonance for me. Simplicity is one reason. Doing less, not more, and doing those…
Silence is rarely pure. You can hear real silence sometimes deep in a cave – when, if you stop talking, the sound of nothing comes as a physical shock. But…
“But on the voyage itself none of Brendan’s crew guessed what was about to happen, not even Trondur, who had a great deal of experience of whales and whale-catching. Day after…
For some years now, I have been contemplating a philosophy of silence. Is that my most pretentious sentence yet? Possibly. Silence is fascinating. When we are most at ease with…