Rolling Thunder

 

August 17, 2021

Rolling thunder. Monumental rain. If I lived lower down the mountain perhaps I’d use the word “catastrophic.” The news is difficult to watch, earthquake in Haiti, fire and drought in the west, our twenty years of labor in Afghanistan gone in an instant. I think of the Taliban as uniquely horrible, but resistence to them in their own country seems not to arise. There’s a disconnect somewhere. One would imagine women, at least, dreading their return. They claim this time to be moderate.

David’s birthday. 

Heated Vestry last night. People who believe that having a feeling justifies the feeling seem to cluster around Episcopalianism. One corner is always shouting “the church is fragmented and people are hurt,” and though that is not untrue, the full truth is that the church is fragmented because they are fractious and they are hurt because they nurse ancient grievances which were unjustified in the first place. One tries to keep one’s mouth shut, but the temptation is dire. I did level that accusation last night, in a very disguised way, and my target responded in anger, but his zoom feed was on mute, so what we saw was an agitated man mouthing wildly. The effect was humorous. It’s cheap to consider that a triumph, but I do. 

Visit to the doctor. Took blood, and something being wrong either with my veins or the technician, they stabbed multiple times.  Oddly vertiginous all day (did not mention this to the doctor), the room spinning if I lie down or bend over too fast. One of the accompaniments of the Golden Years, no doubt. 

I mentioned the storm at opening; it’s majestic enough to be mentioned again at the end.