So, here we are.

A friend was inquiring about how others dealt with writer's block that lasted over six months. My first response was, "Are you kidding?" Sure, assign me something and I'll get back to you, but the real writing muse only sings to me a couple of times a year.

I would agree with some of the other responses to the same question and say that writer's block is the result of too many things in one's head, not too few. White light only seems blank; split it, and you'll see just how many blue days, yellow days, and pink days went into making it. You can't unravel white light by focusing it. White light has to be broken.

So, rather than trying to put the whole world into our heads, we must put our heads into the world. Be not a lens, distilling the truth until it burns; be not a mirror, showing truth that has already been shown. Instead, write as a prism, unfolding old beauty in new ways, opening doors in the familiar, spreading light in colors as of yet unseen.

Neruda says it all.

If you are not living,
if you, beloved, my love, if you have died,
all the leaves will fall on my breast,
it will rain upon my soul night and day,
the snow will burn my heart,
I shall walk with cold and fire and death and snow,
my feet will want to march to where you are sleeping,
but I shall go on living.

Hippocratic Oath

"I swear by Apollo the Physician, by Aesculapius, and by all the gods and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will carry out, according to my ability and judgement this oath.
To hold my teacher in this art equal to my own parents; when he is in need of money to share mine with him; to consider his family as my own brothers and to teach them this art, without fee or indenture; to impart precept, oral instruction, and all other instruction to my own sons, the sons of my teacher, and to indentured pupils.
I will use treatment to help the sick according to my ability and my judgement, but never with a view to injury and wrongdoing.
I will not administer a poison to anybody when asked to do so, nor will I give a woman a pessary to cause abortion. But I will keep pure and holy in both my life and my art.
I will not use the knife on sufferers from stone, but I will give place to such as are craftsmen in this art.
Into whatsoever houses I enter I will endeavour to help the sick and I will abstain from all intentional wrongdoing and harm, especially from abusing the bodies of man or woman whether bond or free.
And whatsoever I shall see or hear in the course of my profession, or in my intercourse with men, if it be what should not be published abroad I will never divulge it, holding such things to be as secrets which are holy.
If I carry out this oath and break it not, may I gain forever a good reputation among all men for my life and my art; but if I transgress it, may the opposite be my portion.”

(Oh, so that's why they don't have doctors swear to it anymore.)

Monochrome, except for one spot:

a funky feature I just discovered on my camera. Unfortunately, I don't think the size of the area is adjustable.


(since the wall was gray to begin with, this worked out nicely.)

Pickles: just one small part of an amply celebrated Thanksgiving.

My Prime Minister is cooler than your Prime Minister!

Sunrise, Sunset

Swiftly flow the years; one season following another, laden with happiness and tears.

The Nanny State

"We have forgotten that the Gospel ethic demands feeding the poor: it is silent about the business of turning the poor into capitalists so that they can care for themselves and release us from the Gospel burden."

Read the whole awesome article here.