It's been a while since I last wrote.
Human pain is what this weekend was about too, so I don't know that now is the best time, but it's been a while, so I will take up my pen (or keyboard) and write.
I was talking with my girlfriend on Friday night about how I think of History as a metaphor for something larger that is going on; she was telling me about the coming of the Spaniards to latin America and the havoc they wreaked there and among the indigenous native American tribes with whom they came into contact. The dead multitudes seem a sad commentary if our very lives are metaphor
for the unseen. As if to counter my hopes in humanity's final resolution, a flurry of stories hit my life this weekend, other people's pain, the lingering trail of our inner darkness, and finally the reminder that, as Dostoevsky put it, I am "guilty for all". Yikes.
But the sun was shining today and over the tops of trees and buildings, I could see the snow covered shoulders of the mountains, a bastion of glory, and a reminder that not all need become completely obscure because of a little pollution.