Saturday night thoughts

It’s late at night, and I’m enjoying my fifth glass of wine.  Don’t worry, they’re not big glasses.  But so what if they are?  Dura vita est.  We must find our own way to deal with the pain of life.

I’m thinking of how short life is.  My dear little dogs, whom I loved so much.  My cat, who has kidney disease (cats get it too often) who is already ill and may not live much longer.   My friend Sam who died from bowel cancer when he was just 33.  My mother.  My father.

We love people or animals, and they love us back, but time, irreparabile fugiensque tempus, takes them away from us, as it eats up our own lives.  In the face of loss and sorrow, how do you maintain happiness?

I don’t know.  Wine helps.  Temporarily.

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Ranga, my cat, asleep on the “tigerskin” throw.

Dog love

“You want loyalty?” asks the ruthless bond trader in Michael Lewis’s “Liar’s Poker”. “Then get a cocker spaniel.”[1]

All the physical fruits of life are worthless without loyalty, love, affection, caring, friendship.  It sums up all that’s wrong with our culture that most of us get more of those values and pleasures from our dogs than from our “friends”.

Dog love

Writing

There are some things which are in a sense infinite.  Loving someone doesn’t use up your reserves of love.  Rather the opposite in fact.

I’ve just finished reading Charles de Lint’s Spiritwalk which is really rather good.  In it he has one of his characters say:

“Our affection for others is the one thing that is an infinite resource.  We can never care too much, or for too many.”

Indeed.

But the other thing we have in unlimited amounts is imagination.

I believe it is a writer’s duty to connect those two.

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