What Is It In Us That Lives In the Past and Longs for the Future, or Lives in the Future and Longs for the Past?

• Self-portrait after two deaths
• Last year's post on the end of the year birthday rush here to take care of this year's birthday rush here
• Seven rites to perform upon finding a dead animal
• Semiotic lesson of the week
• Professional Democrats initiate Bernie can win anti-Bernie campaign
• The violence of taking sides
• Distraction
• Veterinarian's hellish diary of climate change
• How the rich plan to rule a burning planet 
• To the shores of a surging ocean
• Not exactly Jean Shepherd

NO WORDS CAN DESCRIBE IT

Mark Strand

How those fires burned that are no longer, how the weather worsened, how the shadow of the seagull vanished without a trace. Was it the end of a season, the end of a life? Was it so long ago it seems it might never have been? What is it in us that lives in the past and longs for the future, or lives in the future and longs for the past? And what does it matter when light enters the room where a child sleeps and the waking mother, opening her eyes, wishes more than anything to be unwakened by what she cannot name?