Outside, inside, storms come and go. Beauty if we can find it is even more elusive, like storms, impossible to control. I listened to Charlie Rose last night in an "appreciation" of John Updike who recently died at age 76. The writer described himself as a plodder. He simply did what he did. What does it matter to us what those who are left behind think of us? What we think of ourselves day in, day out, only matters to the extent we act or not act. In the long run, the music of our lives has a beauty of its own composing.
Friday, January 30, 2009
After the Storm
Outside, inside, storms come and go. Beauty if we can find it is even more elusive, like storms, impossible to control. I listened to Charlie Rose last night in an "appreciation" of John Updike who recently died at age 76. The writer described himself as a plodder. He simply did what he did. What does it matter to us what those who are left behind think of us? What we think of ourselves day in, day out, only matters to the extent we act or not act. In the long run, the music of our lives has a beauty of its own composing.
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