Culture | History | Learning | Philosophy

And Yet it Moves

The secret of the illusoriness is in the necessity of a succession of moods or objects. Gladly we would anchor, but the anchorage is quicksand. This onward trick of nature is too strong for us: Pero si muove. When at night I look at the moon and stars, I seem stationary, and they to hurry….

Culture | Nature | Philosophy | Walking

Snowy Morning Bliss

“In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods, is perpetual youth…. In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life,—no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving…

Culture | Habits | Learning | Personal Growth | Philosophy | Productivity

Poised, and Wise, and Our Own, Today

“In times when we thought ourselves indolent, we have afterwards discovered that much was accomplished, and much was begun in us.“– Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays: Second Series, “Experience“ (and all subsequent quotes in this post) I got lost in the headlines for a bit before writing today. Getting spun up in politics and pandemics and…

Language | Learning | Personal Growth

Striving for Prévoyance

“C’est une prévoyance très nécessaire de sentir qu’on ne peut tout prévoir.”(“It is a very necessary forethought to feel that you cannot foresee everything.”) – Jean-Jacques Rousseau Prévoyance. The word tantalizes me, capturing my imagination, tauntingly just out of reach. It’s a French word, essentially translating basically to “foreseeability”. Prévoyance is powerful when applied to…

Habits | Philosophy | Writing

The Cumulative Force

“Insist on yourself; never imitate. Your own gift you can present every moment with the cumulative force of a whole life’s cultivation; but of the adopted talent of another, you have only an extemporaneous, half possession. That which each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him. No man yet knows what it…

History | Philosophy | Poetry | Travel

The Compass and the Torch

“Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor…