Believe me when I tell you . . .

I am lost, and you are, too. If you don't know that you are lost, then I am a little less lost than you, for at least I know that I do not know where I am, whereas you persist in striding confidently from you-know-not-where into you-know-not-what.

It is only when we recognize our essential lostness that we come to see that much finding is shamming, most security is trickery, for there is no shame in not knowing, only shame in falsity.



Sunday, September 30, 2007


The summer never really arrived here, but suddenly, now that we are back at work, we get an Indian summer. So today, (Sunday,) we packed some sandwiches and books, and went out for a long walk, across the river, to another side of town, and around, to a hill on the outskirts of town, on which sit the ruins of the old town "castle." I don't know how big it was to begin with, but not very would be my guess. It was blown up as the Nazis were leaving, though no one is really sure why or by whom.

So we had a picnic there, and ate our sandwiches while looking over the river, and then went and sat on the ruins and read our books in the sun. After we had read for a while, we went to a beer garden in the town square, and sat outside, drank some beer, and kept reading and intermittently talking.

When we finished, and the sun was slowly sinking, we went for a walk around the town square, looking in all the shop windows. One of my students has a factory that makes women's bags, and apparently one of the stores on the square carry his products. So we went looking for them, and though we never found them, we had a good walk, and looked at lots of interesting designs in the windows.

Now we are home, and Cynthia is making a potato soup for dinner. It has been a good day.

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