Sunday, May 13, 2007
May 13, 2007 – responses
I've been getting "musings" for more than 4 years now -- read them sporadically and have never responded. I'm a Canadian Mark-age woman (Nova Scotian, though), but am living and working in Moscow. I like the truthfulness -- the complexity and sadness of things is reported on, together with optimism and striving. Am reading this latest Musing in Shanghai (here on business). Just so you know, Mark, that your e-mails go all around the world each day, CP, Shanghai/Moscow
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That is beautiful. I thank you. I am lucky to have TWO mother's days............as one son lives here in the UK and my middle child lives in Michigan. My own mum is long dead - she died on my daughter's second birthday in a house fire. We were never close - distant even. Thank you for crystallizing your thoughts for me - they helped. Hey and extra gift for Mother's Day, xxx, MM, ?
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One of the most soulful messages you've ever written, Mark... Beautiful, CB, Calgary
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Oh my gosh, Mark, I thought I was the only one who dug into the drawer to find my birth certificate because I was sure I was adopted. My mom is still alive and our relationship only works, because I work at one and ignore most of what she says and does, JH, Bushnell, FL
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Re: After words ... thoughtful reflection often reveals that: when I think I'm speaking clearly and my motives are transparent, unfortunately both the thought process and the communication are opaque. However, the quote (from Cervantes) supplied by another Musings reader, sums up what I was trying to say, beautifully. If it is true, as Socrates claimed, that the unexamined life is not worth living; yours, by logical extension, must be very fulfilling. Best regards, One of the many SB's, Calgary . . p.s. .. If you have time please check out the condos at Waiohuli Beach Hale in Kihei. Hopefully it is my destination next year
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...an excerpt from John Steinbeck's Nobel Prize acceptance speech 1962.... “Literature is as old as speech. It grew out of human need for it and it has not changed except to become more needed. The skalds, the bards, the writers are not separate and exclusive. From the beginning, their functions ,their duties, their responsibilities have been decried by our species....The writer is delegated to declare and to celebrate man's proven capacity for greatness of heart and spirit - for gallantry in defeat, for courage, compassion and love. In the endless war against weakness and despair, these are the bright rally flags of hope and of emulation. I hold that a writer who does not passionately believe in the perfectibility of man has no dedication nor any membership in literature....”, MH, Calgary
