Been in a few conversations lately where I have wanted to quote or point people towards this scene, or this movie, but in the moment it always feels a little weird.
In other words, we’re talking about an underground, which did exist during the Dark Ages in a different way, among the mystical orders of the church. And the purpose of this underground is to find out how preserve the light, life, the culture. How to keep things living. You see, I keep thinking that we need a new language, a language of the heart… some kind of language between people that is a new kind of poetry, that is the poetry of the dancing bee, that tells us where the honey is.
I suppose it is a little weird. These are weird times. If my conversations are anything to go by, I’m not the only one feeling unmoored, that the anchor lines have sunken from view. So many myths that animated day-to-day life have been exposed as empty and hollow, no longer nourishing the spirit.
But all is not empty vanity. I sense vitality and commitment among many, that remarkable will to persist and to grow. Rethinking the comforting old myths can open up space for new stories, fresh connections, enrichment.
Man, this post is a piece of shit. I’m trying to capture moments that in conversation feel real, but it reads like the worst pontificating. I’m going to publish it anyway, because I am sitting in That Brewery in Pine, Arizona with Alan and D’Arcy, two of the best friends I could ever hope to have, friends who have sustained me though dark times both by wise application of the old comforts and by pushing me to be better. Given the way lives seem to roll, the mere fact we managed to carve out time to come here for no reason other than to hang out feels like a real accomplishment.
Alan has a regular slot Blogging at the Bar, and in the spirit of this noble endeavor, I felt it only sporting to throw up an Abject post at the same time. When I started, I didn’t expect it to read like a book report for a book I haven’t read. (Which reads like a fair description for how I conduct my day-to-day life, now that I’ve typed it.)
Serves me right for being so pretentious. I should have just talked about today’s road trip to Winslow, Arizona, and used that as a departure point for some small-minded trashing on The Eagles… I could have decided to Take It Easy, as it were… The words would flow like cheap wine, or, like a fine IPA from the taps of That Brewery, in Pine Arizona, the best brew pub for many desert driving miles.