Tom Bombadil

I've always argued that he is the secret at the heart of middle earth. He is the road to enlightenment in that gorgeous world. And in his dance of domestic bliss with Goldberry (who is waiting) he imparts the male vision of wedded bliss, which must be combined with mastery of the world. The feminine view, as always, is occluded, though her song and grace are joy to behold, and must stem from inner joy.

So I was delighted to spend a rest day reading the incredible book "in the house of Tom Bombadil," by C.R. Wiley. So many ideas about life in here.

Hmm, what else happened? I learned why homeless people always seem to wear too many clothes. I had to wait a couple hours before entering the hotel, and was freezing in the cloud and shadow, even in only a slight wind. The truth is the environment is usually too hot or too cold for comfort. We pop into and out of it from buildings, and it doesn't matter that our clothing isn't suitable. If you live outside you know this truth.

Baked goat cheese with honey is awesome. Seems like a specialty of the Canaries, I've had it twice now.

Finally, pine trees are deeply good. They are the pioneers on volcanic soul. In time (thousands of years?) the nest of pine needles arrayed around them become soil, in which other things can grow. Sometimes I looked up on a black lava slope to see one high pine tree, with its yellow scattering of needles, "seeding" a slope for the future.

What if the content of our consciousness is something like this. Inside the activity of it, it seems lonely, even futile. But someone, somewhere, has a wider context and sees our thoughts as those pine needles building something real and deeply practical. Maybe the trees are "thinking."

I fly home tomorrow. Thanks for reading... Pretty soon the CDT content will have no choice but to begin at long last!