My Thoughts

I never know quite where my thoughts might take me. All in all, I believe that to be a good thing; at least it seems to keep things interesting, though thoughts seldom overstay their welcome. As I was thinking of one thing, another thought quite rudely shoved it aside which is something not so uncommon these days given these unsettling circumstances. The rude thought was nothing new, rather old for the modern mind: “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” Those who refuse to bother history will have no idea as to when or where or what or who was first to pen the line. Which is terribly sad when you stop to think about it.

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My Thoughts

There is something utterly mystical and magical about opening a book for the first time. Like Forest Gump said, “My mama always said life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get.” The same mystifying moment occurs whenever you first break open a new book, you never know what you will find tucked inside. What mystifies me most is why so many seldom have the urge to break open the pages and discover the hidden treasure buried deep inside. Whether it is fiction or fact, science or science fiction, pulp or classic, verse or prose, each is a window that when opened can and will fascinate and enrich the mind through the simple act of reading.

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My Thoughts

Those who know me also know I have a bona fide, long-standing love and respect for the works of G.K. Chesterton. As George Bernard Shaw would note, Chesterton was a “colossal genius.” Chesterton and Shaw were famous friends (Chesterton referred to Shaw as his “friendly enemy”) and both thoroughly enjoyed their arguments and discussions. Although rarely in agreement, they both maintained good-will towards and respect for each other. However, in his writing, Chesterton expressed himself very plainly on where they differed and why. In Heretics he wrote:

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My Thoughts

I have lived in many places over my seventy-three years on God’s green earth—well over thirty places, but then who’s counting? It might be more; might be less; in the end I doubt much of it matters one spot at all. I have never seen the garden of Eden; never been to heaven, though I sure would like to get there someday. I have no doubt at all that I have been through the gates of hell a time or two and have no craving to ever spend any more time there. Too hot and not much on air conditioning (the devil controls the thermostat.)

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03. July 2020 · 1 comment · Categories: Colloqui

July 03, 2020

In this issue:

Beauty at the Stroke of Midnight: The nihilist and the cancel culture More »

June 26, 2020

In this issue:

Gargoyling with Gargoyles: Where is Truth and Reason in this? More »

June 19, 2020

In this issue:

The Bigotry of Ignorance: The destructive power of willful ignorance More »

June 12, 2020

In this issue:

A Poverty of Spirit: The truth shall set you free More »

June 05, 2020

In this issue:

For Hate’s Sake: Dancing round the pyre

Deacon’s Diner: Food for a restless mind
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May 29, 2020

In this issue:

Bees, Beeswax & Crocodile Tears: What is the “social” in social distancing?

Deacon’s Diner: Food for a restless mind
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