Savouring the Sea

Sunday morning arrived with its promise of purgation and tranquility. If one is intent upon proving one's righteousness - at least if the project is to be imbued with moral dignity - the thesis has to be based upon logic which while not perfect has the advantage of avoiding purely ad hominem assault. The further danger of attacking the man and not the issue is the very real possibility of merely exemplifying one's own shortcomings. Winning an argument and refusing to make the same mistake twice are not the same. Playing at winning is treacherous and not guaranteed to deliver success much less the smug elevation which attends disregard. It lubricates my resolve that even an innocent child is baptized, pointedly the immersion in water.

Perhaps shamefully for me weighing myself daily is a necessity. I speak here of both visceral and cerebral assessments. Indeed until I have fulfilled this devotion I am as undernourished as having gone without breakfast. The process invigorates and strengthens me to the point of allowing what I consider an unblemished address of the Universe. Every day is a new day.  It helps to begin with a purge, an evacuation of yesterday's moss and debris. I hesitatingly acknowledge that the sinfulness from which I require relief captures the shallowness of the realm I inhabit.

I Giorni - Ludovico Einaudi

"Listening to this song is like listening to a story only your own mind can tell you."

After my matutinal bicycle ride I expunged myself in the sea. The sudden umbrage of a cloud brought pensiveness, speedily replaced by the flare up of the melting sun. I contemplated the privilege wrought by my parents.  My father's death marked the start of the awakening; my mother's death crystallized the realization. Last night Leah proclaimed her filial devotion. It recalled the dynamism of the Glass family - Franny and Zooey - of JD Salinger.