Reflections on turning 50, when you’re not exactly Dante from the Inferno in a dark wood

If you don’t want more and aren’t worried about losing what you have, either you have nothing and aren’t aware there is anything, you have everything and there’s nothing left to achieve, or you’re dead.  Midway upon the journey of our life  I found myself within a forest dark,  For the straightforward pathway had been lost.” So… Continue reading Reflections on turning 50, when you’re not exactly Dante from the Inferno in a dark wood

Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73, the “Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang,” and the meaning of love itself

Love can sing to us, sweetly, and we can build an edifice upon it for that special choir, an edifice composed of both the joy we have in our lover and the fears of how it will end, for everything is ultimately “ruin’d” in this world, but in Shakespeare’s, even a single intentionally shortened syllable… Continue reading Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73, the “Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang,” and the meaning of love itself