I’m back with the Merlin dulcimer- thinking of spring- almost as soothing as sitting by a creek
That’s what temperance does when it works like it should: it’s a kind of balance that strengthens, rather than waters down, both ingredients
I’d like to hear this response from someone on one of those panels of commentators on TV: ‘You make a good point, and it’s true. I think it sits awkwardly beside my point, which I also think is true, but I don’t think either one obliterates the other. So, let’s think on this seemingly imperfect balance, and keep talking about it.’
The bad feelings welled up in me when the shell-shocked soldier, who struggling to flee more horror and death had mortally wounded a young man, later asked the dead man’s friend if the wounded man was ‘all right.’ The shell-shocked soldier didn’t know the young man was dead below deck. When the dead man’s friend pauses I felt his internal struggle and I lost it in my own mind- the struggle when evil starts to misguide your passions; when he replies ‘yeah’ it was a revelatory lighting bolt- the wisdom and the mercy of it. The dead man is all right if you have faith in heaven and grace, or even if you have faith in the rippling effects of sacrifice and heroism. More than that, by releasing the shell- shocked soldier from that burden, the soldier may live again.
I had a wonderful outing with my brother to the trout stream. I caught a nice brook trout and we took it home for the table. I usually release trout (I like eating walleye, crappie, and bluegills), but I decided to bring a cooler on this trip with my brother and I could feel in my bones the stories my grampa told about walking the streams with his uncle catching and cleaning speckled trout.