Sunday, August 24, 2008

Without the help of accidents

Home again after a long drive down the east coast yesterday.  We lingered at my parents' "camp" or lake house until 2 pm.  The kids wanted one more swim in the lake, and how could we deny them?  After two previous summers of uneven and downright chilly weather, this year we logged a record number of swims.  And we figured, beat the traffic at the mid-Atlantic shore exits by going by those late at night.  

I've returned to a long day of unpacking, settling, grocery purchasing, and to do list writing.  Plus a massive stress headache as the upcoming school year comes roaring at us like a tidal wave.  Babysitter problems.  Roger at the Convention all week.  Joe Biden is the VP pick??  Where are those medical permission forms for Robert for school?  What's the issue with his bus picking him up too close to the start of school?  And etc.

Clearly, I have little coherent to say.  Once this settles, I may.  

But my beloved copy of Donne's Idea of a Woman was sitting on my desk where I left it.  So I'll leave whoever reads this blog with this:

. . . since she [Elizabeth Drury, or insert here the name of someone you find enigmatic] remains obscured by the individuating conditions of matter, she is still, to speak strictly, unintelligible; she "deterre[s]" us through her "incomprehensiblenesse." . . . . Sir Thomas Browne proclaims that "no man truely knows another," for God "onely beholds me, and all the world, who lookes not on us through a derived ray, or a trajection of a sensible species, but beholds the substance without the helpe of accidents, and the formes of things, as wee their operations."

OK: Ted Tayler and Thomas Browne together again at last for one night.  Better than a rock concert.

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