FootprintsintheWind.com

What is the richness of another? You never know.

:- Doug.

Richness perhaps is not enough for mystery. That we can see its richness does not prevent us from walking away out of exhaustion or fear of exhaustion. Mystery must be alive; must call to me; must be of life or death within my otherwise boring and un-courageous days.

:- Doug.

Can we be known as we really are? There is no “as we really are” until we uncover and realize.

:- Doug.

One mystery is the richness of your Thou. Another mystery is the richness of you. Richness is what is there, patent or latent. Richness includes possibility released through interplay, bumping, and mistakes.

:- Doug.

The kind of conversation I have in mind I will not define. You’re a smart person: you’ll work it out.

:- Doug.

Conversations do not end. They most often peter out. The conversation I have in mind will seek to expand.

:- Doug.

What are the mysteries of conversation?

:- Doug.

If we did not have conversation would we get on? Be human? How would we be different?

:- Doug.

Where did conversation come from? Why is conversation?

:- Doug.

How then shall we live this conversation?

:- Doug.

You might be wondering why you called this meeting.

:- Doug.

What are the words for conversation in various languages? What do they tell us that our English, primarily Latinate, words do not?

:- Doug.

In conversation as I conceive it the distinction between real and make believe grows fuzzy and lifts away from me, a dandelion seed transported for leagues on lightest airs.

:- Doug.

This has been a study of parallels. Of me.

:- Doug.

To be on the track of a mystery, from time to time I must report the sightings and lost trails. Recall: a mystery is that not yet found. We have this beast we only dimly perceive, and maybe with the wrong senses. Maybe it/she/he does not exist at all, a Loch Ness Monster, a Yeti.

:- Doug.

Life may be a human construct, a label we made up for what we play with, what is over against us, with us.

:- Doug.

What’s going on in sub-dividing a subject is placing limits on ourselves. As I child I poked a hole in paper and peered through. (Truth is I still do, just not often enough.) The things I could see by restricting my vision! A slow moving ant and a Daddy long legs. The little hole magnified things. Showed me things I had missed with my big eye. If I am without my contact lenses and need to see the clock, I can bend my index finger tight and look through that little aperture to get just enough magnification. Sub-dividing is not a matter only of analysis; biting into the cookie we find what we could not see—raisins and pecans!

:- Doug.

Don’t decide about a conversation until you have considered it for at least 20 minutes. It may be better not to decide. Let it live or die as it will. I would not decide about a child of mine.

:- Doug.

What is the role of thankfulness in conversation?

:- Doug.

Picasso is all hard edges, sharp lines, and conspicuous contrasts. How would my paintings (if ever I painted) display me? How could that inform—how does it inform—my writing? From this imaginary contrast, how can we pull finer tones from our conversations?

:- Doug.

Analysis often starts with anal.

:- Doug.

The skin does not separate but connects us.

:- Doug.

All ideas are social
I am told

:- Doug.