I like some horror movies and not others. The ones I like, including Psycho, Hellraiser, The Exorcist, and even something as overtly silly as Halloween (1978), may have some jump scares, but the movie as a whole is telling a story of a person, and the point is not simply to make you jump or to scare you. There is something deeper that the Paranormal Activity movies don’t have.
Dawn grew like a time-lapsed flower. Sunrise went “sproing.” The sun came up with a clatter of castanets. Sunrise shattered the night. The sun shattered the mirror of the eastern sky.
“Does God exist? Answer: do you mean the God of Genesis as interpreted by a Stupid Christian Fanatic or do you mean some vague notion of something or other? Or: exist to shake hands with, or exist as unicorns exist? Exist to pray to, not expecting an answer?”
Some of these, maybe all of these questions can be answered, but the sense of mystery remains: what am I that I can understand these things and ask these things? What kind of answer am I looking for? What kind of answer would not be “just words”? Must there be something unanalyzable, always, at the base of our knowledge?
What might be the real reason that I’m resistant to meditation? Because I didn’t discover it myself and I have so many people trying to push it on me? Pure willfulness? (Which, like “you’re just stubborn,” is no explanation at all, just a label...
Even a schedule isn’t necessary; just a bookshelf. Each morning—mornings are best for this kind of work—take the book at the left, sit down with it, and go through it, either page-by-page or marker-by-marker (tape flags for target pages).
Whenever I’m about to meet with Nog, as this morning, I always worry about not having anything to say. Yet we always manage to fill four hours and I, at least, find the time all too short. If I were a younger man, I’d want to ...