What makes home, home? After growing up in one place, I left home at seventeen never to return. In part because when I left so did my parents. I went off to college in Massachusetts and they moved to San Francisco from the Camden area of New Jersey. Once there, they made it their forever home.
“Where do I begin…on the heels of Rimbaud moving like a dancing bullet thru the secret streets of a hot New Jersey night filled with venom and wonder.” Bob Dylan, liner notes to Desire (1976)
High overhead on poles,
Illuminated a young lady
As she presented
A single tap
To a golf ball
Into forward motion.
By the beauty’s energy
The dimply sphere sparkled
In the same rays of light
Squadrons of bugs overhead.
I stood transfixed
Hoping for words
Beyond my imaginings
The New Jersey night
Into more permanent bliss.
© Copyright 2014 Robert B. Ritchie
Oliver Davies said that Thomas Aquinas wrote about truth as the “harmony of being with intellect” and goodness as the “harmony of being with appetite.” It derives from “one being’s harmony with another.”
Which do you find more difficult? Being in harmony with another’s intellect or goodness? I enjoy the debate of intellect and fruit of goodness. They are both actions for me. They are my “doing something” as when someone is praised for always doing something.
“The companions of Malevolence were supplied by the Furies with a torch, which had this quality peculiar to infernal lustre, that its light fell upon faults.” Samuel Johnson
“No light, but rather darkness visible, served only to discover sights of woe.” Milton
Are missed moments faults? In the sense of wanting to live the moments over again, yes.