Minta’s Take on Choices and Heart

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It’s impossible to make out years in a troll’s face. It looks ancient at birth and stays ancient throughout life. So, while I would like to say that Minta looks older these days (now that I’m in my 70s — and she’s in her I don’t know whats), I would be lying if I did. She looks just the same as always.

And she comes and goes (appears and disappears) unexpectedly, as always. Today she swooped in to read my Civile Engineering story over my shoulder. …


Killing time

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At the rate we are killing it, we must hate time.

At first blush, though, we don’t kill time all that often. As a rule, we only own up to intentional chronocide when knowingly (and impatiently) waiting for someone or something, say a bus that’s late, or a tardy dinner date — especially when we’re waiting for something or someone that we just can’t wait for to happen, occur, arrive, appear. …


A song lyric

Photo by saeed karimi on Unsplash

It was your eyes
that enabled me to see
it was your touch
that enabled my touch
it was the thought
of a lasting life with you
it was that dream
and that hope
that saw me through

It was the way
that you cradled in your sleep
it was the way
that you showed me a way
it was the light in your eyes
when you smiled at me
it was the smile
in your smile
that set me free

to scale your mountain
to sail your ocean
to roam your earth
and your sky

to breathe your air
to…


What is our allotment?

Photo by Sage Friedman on Unsplash

Here are two amazing quotes from William James.

First: “For the moment, what we attend to is reality.”

The corollary, of course, is that what you do not pay attention to, is not real to you — since you are not aware of it. What you turn your attention to will, in fact, constitute the real, the observed, perceived, the world you live in; what exists for you.

And then there’s this one: “Everyone knows what attention is. It is taking possession of the mind, in clear and vivid form, of one out of what seems several simultaneously possible objects…


A song lyric

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Orbital gold
distant and old
love and death and hope
you hold
my French 19th century moon

Veiled by my eyes
found by your skies
ancient voices crystallize me
my French 19th century moon

You once freed me
moonlight: heed me
lead me home

Whispering sand
warm in my hand
melts my eyes to
understanding
my French 19th century moon

Drowned by your sea
mythical me
drinks a wave of words
that see you
my French 19th century moon

You once freed me
moonlight: heed me
lead me home

© Wolfstuff

To Listen:

(For Charles Baudelaire)

For quite a…

Ulf Wolf

Raised by trolls in northern Sweden, now settled on the California coast a stone’s throw south of the Oregon border. Here I meditate and write. Wolfstuff.com.

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