The only sounds heard on the apartment balcony while absorbed in the dry heat on a sunny day are the throaty burble of a distant field tractor; the springtime squawks of Canada geese on the river or the caw of a nearby crow; and, the occasional buzz of a fly. We maintain two black deck chairs on the balcony throughout the year. They’re sturdily constructed of impenetrable plastic – a valuable though modest purchase from Levi Hardware.
Kintsugi (Japanese: 金継ぎ, lit. ‘golden joinery’), also known as kintsukuroi (金繕い, “golden repair”), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum.
As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise.
I have watched too many friends over the years create unnecessary angst in their lives due to trying to fulfill that ‘bucket list’ they dreamt up for themselves. At this stage in life, I can’t be bothered losing sleep over unfulfilled dreams, so I’ve made an all-important list of all the things I DON’T want to do again, ever. I call it my ‘fuck it’ list!!!
Oh, well…I don’t know about you but as I age I notice that my train of thought sometimes leaves the station without me. Enjoy your weekend.
Hugs,
Fi
Every day, week, month and year there are a myriad of people who in addition to looking out for their own interests are responsible for the well being of others; namely parents, teachers, clergy, municipal leaders, provincial premiers and federal politicians. Mapping the drawing board of that altruistic agenda is a great deal easier if one erases the multitude of possibilities and replaces them with what are predominantly narrow objectives, perhaps those which are most digestible by the masses or those which least interfere with the personal objectives of the leaders themselves. It is by definition a blackboard of functionality versus originality. Generally the scheme preserves control exclusively in the hands of the decision makers not their audience. The object is smoothness and quietude – a well serving beehive of activity.
This reflection, dear Reader, resonates deeply with the understanding that moments of profound reckoning, whether personal or planetary, are inherent to existence. Like the mythical Armageddon stripped of its purely religious vestments, these junctures represent an unavoidable confrontation with the stark realities of what lies ahead. The past, regardless of its brilliance or good intentions, yields to the undeniable present.
The world, as it always has, is in flux. Structures crumble. While the human instinct may be to assign blame or see these shifts as deserved retribution, the more profound truth is the universality of this experience. None are exempt from the eventual vanishing point, however diligently we attempt to delay its arrival.
Armageddon, apart from its end-of-world battle and religious significance as the confrontation of good and evil, is most popularly known as a critical moment of reckoning. The application is as narrow as that of an aging person or as broad as that of a declining empire.
Conversion to electrification from a mechanical mode is not without its challenges. Getting the two – manual and electronic – to merge is the goal because neither excludes the other. Amusingly I am writing these words while sitting in my car in a subterranean garage with no WiFi connection. Indeed I am uncertain whether this composition will survive my experience here. The reason for the uncommon choice of writing desk is that I am waiting to see whether the charger for my new tricycle works as it should.
Per Gemini:
What a truly lovely day it was! With the sun shining and a brisk northwest wind carrying the faintest promise of spring – even a hint of green returning to the fields – the conditions were simply begging to be enjoyed. And that’s precisely what happened. Now, being a septuagenarian, my “grand” adventures might not involve scaling mountains or traversing continents, but within my comfortable range, it truly felt like a day brimming with possibility!
With nothing to do today but enjoy the weather, that’s precisely what we did. Sunshine, an invigorating NW wind and a very palpable hint of spring (including the faintest record of green in the farmer’s fields). Though I will moderate the gusto by reminding you, dear Reader, that the enthusiasm is that of a septuagenarian. This means of course that the boundaries are limited and the enterprise reeks of facility not diversity or magnanimity. Nonetheless it spoke of a grand day! And limitless inventiveness!
One cannot read almost anything historic about England – and certainly not anything medieval – without speedily encountering two principle features: heraldry and war. The two – conjoined with exotic terms of feudal rank – seem to identify the very fibre of the community, both top and bottom. One appeals to my artistic side; the other, not in the least. In fact combative superlatives are just another perversion of masculinity in my view. I shall for example never understand the appeal of pugilists who devote themselves to bashing one another’s brains.