I think that I am here, on this earth, To present a report on it, but to whom I don't know. As if I were sent so that whatever takes place Has meaning because it changes into memory. From "Consciousness" -- Czeslaw Milosz To whom do we tell what happened on the earth, for whom …
The World of Experience
So my coffee-shop pediatrician friend pulls up a chair and begins to tell me again of Oliver Sack's new brain book called Migraine. Turns out it's not a new book, but still. Then she refers me back to an old book on my shelf called Molecules of Emotion by Candace Pert. Neurons in the gut …
The CyberSea
The preacher said a couple of weeks ago that the sea has always been a symbol of chaos. Last night, I went surfing. Not just for the fun of it. It's time for the annual ramp up toward my January class, that audacious thing having to do with a "Christian Aesthetic", whatever that might …
On Contentment
We churn. Yesterday, fueled by a morning conversation about commitment (or lack thereof), challenged by an evening swimming with foolish old thoughts of might-have-beens, I churned. Possible pasts rose up and whacked me in that misty, far-too guilty place, the old smirking internal attorney offering lots of proof of dumb faithlessness and that sorry bug-a-boo …
Words Like Leaves
Three hours of color. I left the house about 11:00, restless, with no appointments for the day until 7:00 p.m., at which time I'd head up to UW to shoot a couple of short scenes for a film being produced by a friend of a friend. I get nervous about such things, so I needed …
JEFF BERRYMAN 