Probably Not

Are there rivulets of joy and serenity, running free in subterranean caverns beneath our feet, somewhere equidistant between the surface of our lives and the banks of the immortal River Styx?

 

It is New Year's Day 2021.  My tent poles all have come down in the storm.

 

Concentric Circles

The ignorance of the grub.  The ignorance of the ant.  The ignorance of the blind new puppy.  The ignorance of the starling.  The ignorance of the lion.  The ignorance of the orangutan.

The ignorance of the Everyman.  The ignorance of Alan Turing and Ludwig Wittgenstein, of Madame Curie and of Madame Blavatsky.

We know nothing of the big picture.

 

Illuminati

Alan Turing, John Maynard Keynes, Ludwig Wittgenstein, Frank Ramsey, Bertrand Russell and G. E. Moore, all occupying the same sacred ground between the Two Great Wars.

 

Channeling the Inner Elvis

Is your heart filled with pain?

Shall I come back again?

Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?

 

Overheard in the Box Seats

"Watch the old man with the rubber rapier try to defend himself, after the hyenas are released from their box.  It is an amusement that we have."  

And then, sotto voce - "The hyenas will act in concert until he is down."

 

Leaving No Stone Unturned

Grave robbers severed the hands and the feet of the Christ.  Pickled them in brine, bound for reliquaries.  All in the service of the almighty drachma.

And they did this on the sabbath, no less.  The day before He rose.  

He rose whole and complete, which only added to the mystery.  A shadow body, greater than the first.

We all have them, waiting in reserve.  All, that is, except that God the Father, the Vengeful One, erased the souls of the two robbers, leaving them to roam the earth like abandoned dogs.