Philosophy and Beethoven…

Philosophy is a Greek word by good rights, and it stands for almost a Greek thing. Yet some rumor of it has reached the commonest mind. M. Miles, who came to collect his wood bill to-day, said, when I objected to the small size of his wood, that it was necessary to split wood fine in order to cure it well, that he had found that wood that was more than four inches in diameter would not dry, and moreover a good deal depended on the manner in which it was corded up in the woods. He piled his high and tightly. If this were not well done the stakes would spread and the wood lie loosely, and so the rain and snow find their way into it. And he added, β€œI have handled a good deal of wood, and I think that I understand the philosophy of it.”

Ah, Thoreau. Ever so often, his words touch such a chord.


A reading lamp draws strange curves
on the white walls. You stare
into that yellowed space, sense
the echoes of a divine soul pierce
your crass one, in a way you knew not
was even possible, his moonlight sonata
for this moonless light, transferring
a profound tranquility to your life,
a tranquility, you imagine, he himself
had not even known, and you wonder
how can you even hope to show
your gratitude for this gift
he has bequeathed, and you wonder more,
what karma did you earn, to find
yourself deserving of this happiness, this
bewitching peace, and all you wish is
a magic wand to pass along this spell
to a world that seems to have lost
itself, in a strange deafness to
all things blessed, sacred and good.

Thing is, You don’t have a wand, just
words, silly words, that don’t even begin
to say how it feels. Oh, how it feels.


Posted on December 16, 2005, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. true …

    how true! “Thing is, You don’t have a wand, just
    words, silly words, that don’t even begin
    to say how it feels.” The right words for right now, for me! Thanks for the intro πŸ™‚

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