Writing In the Shade of Trees, Where it all Began *** On a trip to England in 2010, I began to research, and also sought to see and experience, certain aspects of my mom and her family’s life in London before and during WWII. During my time in London that year, I was staying in Brentford in...
Art, Art, Everywhere I have a friend with multiple degrees in art. Years ago, as I remember, he told me his theoretical and working definition of art is that it must be composed of line drawing – be that the entire composition, or a major part of the work, or just some portion with line...
The Unbroken Coffee Cup – Postscript to Broken Coffee Cup Series This posting is a postscript to the Broken Coffee Cup Series. And here, the featured photo is the green-rimmed coffee cup, unbroken, intact, and whole, the twin of the broken blue cup, both given to me as gifts at the same time...
The Broken Coffee Cup - Part 3 – Politics, Idolatry, Pandemic, Second Great Commandment, Theology Mantras. As I began to prepare to compose and write this last part of the Broken Coffee Cup series - now on the spiritually damaging and distorting effects upon the congregation of the deepening and...
The Broken Coffee Cup - Part 2 – I Did Not Leave My Friends This series continues to be difficult to write, being “professional” but, at the same time now, conveying emotional and spiritually deep burdens and concerns. For now, I am trying to reply to or answer – as best as they can be...
The Broken Coffee Cup - Part 1 – A Year & a Half Since I Withdrew My Membership As a writer, I use my website for many purposes. I write for numerous reasons, on multiple different issues and subjects, and in a variety of genres. And, besides for myself, I write only for one other...
…and for me, art, like writing, is a way of seeing, a developed and infinitely blessed way of life. For here in this photo, there are random yet innately structured fields of color, light yellow, dark brown, and grays punctuated by one small patch of electrical white. And the flesh...
One of Many Ruins of Abbeys …and forever, it seemed, he always felt a touch of melancholy in the late afternoon and early evening, perhaps always regretting the waning of the light, of the golden light of the lowering sun, a fading that reminded his mind and heart over and over, that the day, that...