April 25, 2011
Backpacking with a Book

Concluding Holy Week

Yesterday marked the last of Holy Week. I went home for three days, rendering this online home unattended, silent. Yesterday I had a regretful afternoon and sought refuge in halu-halo, late unlimited-rice lunch, and  J. M. Coetzee’s words. He continues to teach because it provides him with a livelihood; also because it teaches him humility, brings it home to him who he is in the world. The irony does not escape him: that the one who comes to teach learns the keenest of lessons, while those who come to learn learn nothing. —J. M. Coetzee, Disgrace
October 15, 2010
Backpacking with a Book

Oliver Sacks: The Island of the Colorblind

But the Eden of lost childhood, childhood imagined, became transformed by some legerdemain of the unconscious to an Eden of the remote past, a magical “once,” rendered wholly benign by the omission, the editing out, of all change, all movement. For there was a peculiar static, pictorial quality in these dreams, with at most a slight wind rustling the trees or rippling the water. They neither evolved nor changed, nothing ever happened in them; they were encapsulated as in amber. Nor was I myself, I think, ever present in these scenes, but gazed on them as one gazes at a […]