It's a fascinating time to be alive in the world at the moment. The politics, the weather, the geology; its all shaping for a most awesome Apocalypse next year.
Not even Nostradamus in his wildest dreams could imaging a world like we're living in now. Maybe through some obscure quatrain could he predict a future of so much and yet so little. The suffering and the ecstasy they all all contribute to a human condition that will be recorded forever and yet like all history miss-told and again repeated.
I find my refuge in reading, it's like watching a painter putting the finishing touches on a canvas, the finer details explained and left to the observers interpretation. It compartmentalises my thoughts, helps me expel my misconceptions and biases. Reading also gives me the ability to see other worlds, other realms where people exist and offer their realities to me. This is a gift from God, not in a dust old biblical sense, but it allows me to more enlightened while leaving my baggage at the door of at the proverbial cover of the book, which up until that stage I have judged the contents.
I am not a sponge soaking up my environment regardless of the emotion. I am a still, filtering the contents.
Another Martini anyone?
