We are well into August and I find myself still at the computer. It is not really where I want to be just now. There are travels to take—though not necessarily far from where I am sitting. A few yards will do it. I am impatient to stay put.  The loveliest road maps are ones intended to guide the anchored. Among favorite itineraries for the dug in is Louis Dupré’s The Deeper Life:
Precisely because God dwells first and foremost in the self, the mystical journey is mostly an inward journey.
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Is there anything left to say? We have reached the moment words no longer matter. They stream out of us, a ceaseless procession of utterances in a media world which swallows them whole. Undigested, they nourish no one.  A civilization hungry for extinction has no taste for anything but death. Between a quisling pontificate, a debased political class, and a confused electorate, our age is caught up in a romance with doom. Words skim the surface but cannot penetrate the mystery of it. Continue Reading
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