I
am old enough, now, to remember things that no longer exist in my
world, or that have been irrevocably changed: silver metal ticky
boxes (as my mother used to call them) with concertina doors, and
heavy, black telephones inside that actually required you to turn a
dial; military conscription; my mother herself. All of these were
once a part of my life.
A collection of sporadic reflections on little journeys through life. About land and love, about mountains, mid-life and meaning, about relationship and rocks, about the science and poetry of parenthood. At its best it is a look below surface, a passionate engagement with beauty, and an on-going attempt to discover what is important.
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It is my hope that putting this voice out into our world has value, not only for me, but for others, as well. I admit to sometimes entertaining dreams of it going viral, of infecting the world with my vision. But most of the time I am content to be motivated by Gandhi's assertion: whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.