"When we are labouring up another counterintuitive, habit-violating semantic or phenomenological incline, dragging the ten ton stone of what passes for sanity in the West up the hill of habit and into the light of courteous inquiry where it belongs, I often offer this cool comfort: the language will not fail you."
— Stephen Jenkinson
Another working week done!
I was glad to see the back of it.
I'll save you the detail, but suffice to say my vexed self still hasn't found a way to marry soul with role, and I'm doubtful if I ever will unless I do my own thing.
How was your week?
I started my day early. I washed the dishes, sorted some clothes and then when it was light enough, I took Alfie for a walk. It was absorbing being part of my environs, given at that time everything was coming alive to the promise of a new day. The birdsong was overwhelming; I could have listened to it for hours.
What of today's rubric?
I know that my language has too often failed me, replete as it has been with harsh words, profanity and a lack of judgment.
But that's not to say I'm not trying to improve and become (if nothing else) more cognisant of what I'm trying to say. Truth is, I've never really adjusted to adulthood: I'm a kid at heart and that's why I find it so hard to take things seriously, including my choice of words.( Collapse )