What Shall Come

Avoiding responsibility or surviving insanity?

When I grow up, I shall be a hermit. I am more convinced of this as day by day I recognize the counterfeit of the culture around me, and realize that the war on reality is one perhaps I am not obliged to take part in. For what is “really real” around me? My family, real flesh and soft cheeks I can hug and kiss (does that make me a more personal hermit?); my home with its solid cedar walls and four-legged companions; my gardens, which pay no attention whatsoever to anything other than the air, water, nutrients, and pests. My friends, my knitting, my jars of fermented foods, and the coffee in front of me. And Jesus. Always my Jesus.

I had no idea when I wrote Present that later on I would discover that being present meant, amongst other things, eating food from the ground and not from a lab. Or that supporting my innate natural immunity would not only be wise, but controversial to even admit was there. I’ve learned about music (thank you, Rick Beato…I think), but now I’ve become a litera…