Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
— T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets: East Coker

Not old. Not yet anyway. But oh my, we’re getting there. And so there is a calling to do more with the time available. To become more in the process of doing. Old men ought to be explorers.

I’m publishing less often these days. Consider it a sabbatical of sorts, with an abundance of other things to focus on. I enjoy the process enough to suggest that I’ll be back again. With the level of surety of one who knows the fragility of promises.

To return means to first venture somewhere. To be and see and do that which transforms us in meaningful ways into a greater version of our selves. Returns, like tomorrows, are never promised, but they’re suggested. I would suggest that this blog, founded on the idea of travel and history, poetry and song, will return again with something more to say.

But first, there’s this matter of moving into another intensity.