It seems that this rarefied territory as…

…such of us who maintain our rather anonymous, low volume blogs enjoy will be sorely missed when, at some point, one finds one has crossed the line into some higher level of recognition.   Most of us here at this level–if not all, which truly has been my experience–seem not to offer harsh judgement, but simply a neighbourly kind of support.   I myself, have never been, in such a way, too critical; and although from some of my writings, one might infer that I might be found rather particular as regards my likes and dislikes, I have a number of reasons why–even pre-blogging–this is my general way of approaching such things.  One might, for example read elsewhere in this blog, that I feel an aspiring writer is too odd a duck to give the kind of advice that another aspiring writer may need–unless that writer is deliberately targeting other aspiring writers; a thing which may or may not be the case.  This is not the least of my reasons, such as they are; however I will leave it to the reader to ferret out my other such reasons.

In any case, crossing the boundary brings into ones world, flaming, trolling, and other elemental denizens.  Some trolls are even paid assassins meant to break the spirit of those who do not, as it were, “tow the line” in whatever way some shadowy foundation might have decided needs towing.  Of this I have seen many examples, and read about a great deal more.  As I  myself am a technically savvy fellow, I am not as concerned with such things.  They will be met with the appropriate countermeasures.  Some of which my more technically savvy readers will, no doubt find very entertaining.

However, such a moment carries with it, like it or not, a feeling of “childhood’s end,” as one might term it.  A bit sad in some undefinable way.  I remember very well, my first such moment–rather trivial by comparison–being the very first comment I received from someone other than my sweet wife.  I remember it giving me pause.  Not sure, I remember I felt, as to whether I should acknowledge it myself, or just pretend it never happened.

As it turned out, responding in kind opened up a whole new world to me; and this is a thing for which I am most appreciative.  Although I have not seen many new posts from my first follower–as he was rather young, and, I am most certain, has other priorities besides maintaining a blog.  Still my exchanges with this young man remain quite significant in my memory.  And, he is, as, of this date, his most recent post will show, a very talented young man.  (This, by the way, is a quite beautiful tribute to a lighthouse, if I am not mistaken)

In any case….   Childhood’s end?  We should not fear it.  We should not regret it, except to look back upon it fondly and with gilding such as only nostalgic recollection may bring.  But, certainly we should look it straight in the face and bravely yell:  “Bring it on!”

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We help each other with…

…likes. The fact is, sometimes we just click “like.” It does not actually mean we ‘like.’ It does not mean we actually have read. Still, it does mean something. We do this. We perform this action for each other–fellow bloggers. We do this, in part, because we hope that our blogger friends–as well, we hope that we–through the long chain of bloggers connected to other bloggers, will be connected with those who will appreciate their special brand of comment or insight.

Regardless of our art or position or our views on anything in particular, we seem to care for one another in our quest to be heard by those who would appreciate our work, or comments, or views. At least at this low level of notice, none of us seem to be concerned with whether or not we understand or relate to a message. We seem all to be friends regardless. On this day, which is a day of thanks in the United States, it seems appropriate.

φίλει ἐμὲ for now | 0over0

The following is in response to this lovely account:

φίλει ἐμὲ for now | 0over0.

(I have reposted it here as per my rule of “write a novel as a comment; then you should probably republish it yourself also!”)

I love this story, sir. Your writing is very clear and beautiful.

By way of full disclosure, I should admit to you that I am an atheist–but… I am not “that” kind of atheist. In fact, one of my best friends has charitably described me as a “full Gospel atheist.” (as has Dear Mrs. Emeron–who most definitely is a woman of deep and abiding faith) He further, and perhaps with even more Christian Charity, draws the distinction between an atheist and an anti-theist. Even further, he insists that most atheists, so-called, are firmly of this second category–in this, he may be correct, I am not sure, for I am hardly a man of the world. Even more further, furtherer… he insists that this anti-theism is a religion in and of itself; in this I believe he is dead on.

Whether or not there is a God would not change the clear fact that we are “wired,” so to speak, for faith. (there is ever-growing scientific evidence for that) And it is my contention, and has been my observation, that when that “hole,” for want of a better term, in our hearts, or minds, if you will, is not filled with that for which it is designed to be filled, all manner of insanity will often ensue. People in such a condition end up believing in all sorts of nonsense–not the least of which is responsible for much human suffering–such as in the former eastern block, to give a ready example.

I therefore often caution people like me–as well as cautioning myself–to take great care regarding any unprovable worldly beliefs into which they may unwittingly fall. Belief is meant for God, not economic or political theories or unrepeatable scientific events.

Therefore, I am happy to pray with and for my Christian friends. I am happy–very thankful–if and when they pray for me. Saying grace at each and every meal helps me to see my fortune for what it is. And of course, He and His Son figure greatly in my published work for any number of reasons, not the least of which is that… well… how can 4000 years of liturgical tradition not colour, in fact completely fill in, all aspects in the whole of our culture–if not all of creation.

I was once a man of deeply held faith. I miss it. And truth be told, I dearly hope I am wrong and my Christian friends are right. I mean this with complete sincerity, and with all the humility I can muster, which I hope I have here conveyed.

Your writing, and your faith, are quite beautiful. Please do keep it up; and, if you have time, please do keep in touch.

via φίλει ἐμὲ for now | 0over0.

Light at the end of the tunnel!!

If you still see the space in the list, beginning with “the 101″…  which is still present as of October, 2013…

If you look toward the right column wherein I have posted links to sequences, unless by the time you have read this, my work therein has been completed, you will see within the link category named “sequences,” a space.  Of course all the link categories to the right are involving sequences, apart from the default links, the calendar, recent posts, etc.  In any case, as of this writing you will still see a space after which you will see a link for “the 101.”

This space marks the division between my previous method of linking (using menu widgets) and my new method (involving link widgets.)  The new method allows me to easily move a link from “sequences” to, for example “featured” or some other heading simply by editing the link in question and changing the category to which it belongs.  This is a great labour-saving system, but it has been a very long process, as I have set about reworking some aspects of the site.

What has inspired this post is simply that I have noticed that the list of old links is growing small!  At first It felt as though it would never be completed.  The list of sequence seemed to have grown so large, you see; and I hadn’t really taken a good look at it until just this morning.  Only a scant handful of sequence left (plus possibly a few short sequences to which I hadn’t provided links before–I have, in fact, encountered a few of those here and there as I have been going over things)

It is a good feeling to see that ones work is progressing, even when the work in question is simple “scut work,” as our beloved combat engineer might term it.   For so very long the list after the vexing break and beginning with “the 101” has been much longer than the list of finished links; or so I thought.  Apparently, it has been of junior length for a long while now, and, all the while, escaping my notice.

In any case, here it is almost finished and I hadn’t even noticed the progress I had been making.  It just seemed like a long, long, task that would never come to an end.

There Comes A Time | My Own Worst Enemies

Today, I find myself feeling very sad.  Although I should say straight away that it has nothing to do with the sadness I see here.  Completely unrelated, is it.  But how you feel, or at least what you write about how you feel, is how I feel.  Just at this time.  Not always.  I have no good reason for it.  But I felt it earlier, and felt comforted to see you.

While you have been away, I have been rather ill (nothing serious, just a protracted stubborn cold which has “taken out” for weeks, much younger and stronger men than I)  It put me quite behind in my sonnet writing.  And now I have this strange feeling.  This.  Having descended over me.  I have no good reason for it.  But one or two difficult correspondences led me there, I think.

I do not presume anything regarding the way you, nor anyone else, might feel.  I do know that sometimes…   perhaps it is because I am not of the true “cyber” generation…  that I feel remote… distant…  helpless…  and perhaps also unable to comfort those who feel as I do.

I merely began writing a sonnet tonight, or rather, this morning, inspired by those correspondences.   Something regarding humility.  These were not of great consequence–these emails back and forth:  A precocious young man and a vexing but adamantly pursued area of interest; A young lady concerned with matters of faith–and my odd relationship with such matters;  A writers’ group whose kind invitation I nonetheless feel I must decline.  A few other such things…  So that now I feel myself quite melancholy.  Quite at “sixes and sevens,” as it were.

Yesterday, I found myself, finally well enough to get back to writing and so I spent a very enjoyable evening answering comments.  By no means have I gotten to the end of them, but I did make a considerable dent in them.  Still, as the night wore on, I felt I was perhaps delaying my actual work by engaging in this much more enjoyable and carefree activity.

And today, I found, quite by accident, a number of emails waiting for me–they were in the wrong place and so I might have missed them altogether, as they were sent to the address I have which is set up to collect automatic responses and such other annoyances that blogging generates–and stubbornly refuse to be turned off.  I believe I have gone a good deal further in see that people find and use the correct public email when they wish to send me some correspondence which, for what ever reason, they prefer not to appear on the blogoshpere; but I have found that no matter how technically adept one might be, it can sometimes be most difficult to ferret out such things.  Particularly on wordpress.com where one has no control over the code nor any database access.

In any case, In answering comments yesterday, I came upon a number of yours which of course were “404” if I tried to respond to them.  Still that led me to your gravatar link and I noticed there was a new image there… haunting and somehow befitting of your new site.  And then this morning, not long ago, I found your nickname among the handful of new “follows” that had come along in the last hours.

I felt happy to see someone familiar, although clearly I was well on my way to feeling most unhappy.  But following the link to your new site, I found your latest work to somehow fit my melancholy.

There are doubtless many grammatical errors and omissions in the above, however, in all sincerity, I truly do feel a bit too melancholy to go back through it all.  I will however quote this in my “reflections” sub-blog, and perhaps I will correct it later if and when the mood comes upon me.

There comes a time,

when all strength is lost.

When efforts collapse,

and people pay a cost…

Read the rest here: