On not knowing exactly what's up

Having just read JD Vance's account of his conversion to Catholicism (written in 2020),  I found myself in “violent agreement” with much of what he had to say, and reminded that I thought Hillbilly Elegy was an also a good read. It’s hard to square this with the man who embraced Trump and comes across as a scold and some kind of righteous avenger in his current persona. But his conversion story seems very real and authentic and one can’t help but be happy for him and admire his forthright narrative about how he got there.

I too have felt those moments he refers to as “the touch of God” although I wouldn’t necessarily use that language to describe them. There is something miraculous and mysterious about life, and ,although those moments are frustratingly fleeting, I don’t doubt their significance  or importance. Although they are treasured,  I don’t see them leading back to any ideology or institution and they are a rather flimsy edifice on which to hang your whole life. “Before enlightenment, clean the house, after enlightenment, clean the house”. 

In Varieties of Religious Experience William James comments about conversion experiences that people who have a “moments of truth” that leads them to religion are remarkably similar to those who have moments of truth that lead them away from religion. There is I think an understandable temptation to “spread the word” after such experiences, and to become a zealous advocate for your new found convictions.  

The one thing I feel (fairly ) certain about is that each of us has to find our own way in our own time. And I think if your experience  banishes all doubts, you have probably drawn the wrong conclusions. Humility is still in order, no matter how strongly you embrace your convictions. My erstwhile friend Dolores declaimed one evening that she was “absolutely certain there was a higher power guiding us all”.  I had to demur, as did her husband, and there the matter stood. 

However, far be it from me to treat such sentiments with derision or cynicism. I have derived much inspiration over the years by exposing myself to the thoughts and teachings of philosophers, gurus and prophets, too many to mention, who have a gift for expressing those things most of us have to struggle to put into words. Indeed, I like to think my life has been spent in pursuit of that elusive wisdom that brings solace and the occasional joy to the harsh realities we are often confronted with. Somewhere along the way I realized there was no final “truth” to be had and that the seeking itself was the point. 🤔 

"The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing." Socrates 

La Jolla Cove

 

Took this shot while walking with my friend Joanie down by the cove on October 18, 2025

Autumn

 

This image evokes something in me of an earlier time in life, hiking in the mountains of New Hampshire – walking in the woods in Westchester county

The crisp air of an autumn day

The pungent smell of leaves decaying

The rocky path that leads to unexpected vistas

The gentleness of landscape

I want to be walking there at this moment - lost in thought but soaking in the feel of the forest which gives so much year-round

Memories of Susan and her cottage and Trisha the eager black-and-white pooch

I felt at home in those woods

The Spirit of Self-Reflection

 "If you can learn to look at yourself and your life in a gentle, creative and adventurous way, you will be eternally surprised at what you find" 

from Anam Cara  John O'Donahue 

            

Reflections on 14 June, 2023

 "Let us dare to speak of our abiding dreams and occasional visions, and of the endless longing for some sanctuary beside the still waters where the soul can rest within the everlasting arms of the Soulmaker" Sam Keen

I wonder if the anxiety and disturbance I am feeling and that seems to be waking me up in the middle of the night is my conservative, change-resistant ("I don't wanna have to move") and fearful self blocking my sense of adventure ("I can move anywhere I want!") What if I spent my money on adventures instead of security? 

I have been secure here but I have also stagnated and had the feeling I was "running out the clock". Falcon Street is familiar to me now, I know my way around and I can take care of my needs with a minimum of effort. And yet I am bored a lot and just killing time. So many days I end up spending my time on idle internet surfing, trying to find movies to watch, waiting for 10 PM, my appointed bedtime. 

In some mystifying way, I think I am continuing to hang on to Floss.

Years ago when I ventured off to Georgia, I had no idea if it was gonna work out. I packed what little I possessed in my borrowed 1966 Chrysler that originally belong to my uncle, the Monsignor, and headed south, not without some trepidation. This was, after all, the South of Easy Rider.

It turned into one of the most productive and happy years of my life, a seminal experience that I treasure to this day. Can I channel that same sense of adventure now, faced with an ending and a potential new beginning? To do so I must say goodbye to the comfortable and familiar, and hello to the new and unknown. 

Gould's Inlet, St. Simon's Island Georgia

 

Gould's Inlet, St. Simon's Island Georgia

A beautiful spot where Floss and I used to happy hour when we visited St. Simon's Island, her hometown. 

On the surreal experiences of real estate

I was considering a home purchase. Faced with the prospect of attending cattle calls at open houses looking for a residence promoted me to seek some referrals from my friends here in San Diego. Expecting at best a sparse response, I got instead a torrent of emails, texts, and VM's, some copying both me and their recommended (and even beloved) real estate guru, who of course now had me in their "How can I help you" sights. I've become a "prospect". Precisely an outcome I was hoping to avoid. 

There is perhaps no industry this side of arms-dealing that typifies better in my mind the epicenter of rapacious, ethics-free materialism, gross ecological indifference and byzantine legalistic obfuscation than real estate. It is so irredeemably infused with an ethos of gratuitous hype, unctuous pandering and  mind-numbing data dumps that I can scarcely stand hearing the term. Every time I hear people talking real estate there is a blizzard of statistical and financial terms being tossed on the table like chips in a game of poker. And I can't be the only one thinking that when we reduce the sacred landscape to parcels of real estate we deepen out alienation. 

And yet, here it is. Maybe, just maybe, there's a better way?