I notice that the world, in the flesh and in the virtual, has been wiggling happily along without me. No complaints from this quarter.
Coming out of a retreat, in which your basic activity has been to tease apart your subjective experience and observe –from the wobbly platform of your own concentration– the strands of the human mind, it takes a while to fully reengage. It was only three days but, for a non-residential retreat, they were fairly intense. Especially yesterday.
While I catch up, here’s an essay on Updike that’s worthy of its subject. And which nicely dispenses with the notion that he was good for turning “the perfect phrase” and little else.