Maundy Thursday

 

April 17, 2025

Maundy Thursday. 

Sent out play manuscripts.

Weeded, dug, chopped incipient bamboo, planted calla lilies. 

Brilliant and cool. 

Maundy Thursday services at St George somber and. . . something I can’t put my finger on. I think my impression of services is affected by the fact that all I can see is the back of the tenors’ heads. Good for hiding, less good for participation. 

Sat on the front porch in the dark until it was too cold. The Spirit met there is so impersonal that recriminations fall away. 

The family at 52, across the street, has been gone, and their lights have been off, and that side of the street sat profoundly and disturbingly dark. They were back last night, and I rejoiced in the familiar illumination, even when he sits on his porch and I cannot use the bathrooms without being observed.