an old writer and his words

  • ALONG THE WAY

      There are those desperately searching, who stumble along the way, tripping over the dharma gems lying in their path. Others proceed slowly, pausing to examine each pebble, each twig uncertain if it, just possibly, was the key to enlightenment. I wander along, going nowhere, knowing that is where the path must lead, and I…

    Lou Faber

  • AT THE MARGINS

    Horizons are the thing we have they greatest trouble with. They are omnipresent, immutable and yet move at our approach. They are at once inviting and fear inducing, though now we are largely convinced they do not mark the edge of a precipice over which we would catapult into some endless abyss crossing their margin.…

    Lou Faber

  • EMPTY SPACE

    We sit and discuss complex viscosity values and loss tangent ranges throwing in relaxation modulus for good measure, but we end up at ratios, slicing the data ever thinner, until I fog over and remember that today is the first day of summer, and the birds, bathing in the sun play like children finally freed…

    Lou Faber

  • BROKEN VOW

    Then there are the days when the promise to write hangs over me like a curse, when the words are just loose associations of almost random letters and they deny, defy real meaning. It is on this day where, when all is set on the page, I move slowly on leaving this behind.

    Lou Faber

  • ANCIENT HISTORY

    He asked her what she did, and the question surprised her. Most didn’t ask that until much later on, but she replied, “I am a historian.” He said, “Isn’t that an odd profession,” quickly adding, “and I don’t mean for a woman.” “It is,” she smiled, “but I fell in love with history as a…

    Lou Faber

  • PRESENCE

    He appeared rather suddenly, and didn’t seem to stay very long. Some claimed they knew he was coming, most never saw him arrive, although some said they saw him clearly, that he visited frequently, that they knew his presence unquestionably and spoke to him at some length. She knew there was much wishful thinking and…

    Lou Faber

  • THE COLOR OF BEAUTY

    They sat on the bench in the park looking out on the small lake, two ducks swimming slowly in circles. “Dawn is the most beautiful moment of the day, the sun chasing the moon and setting the sky ablaze, orange, crimson, flame, there is simply nothing,” he said, “in the world quite like it.” “It…

    Lou Faber

  • SUM ERGO COGITO

    Sanity is a state of mind, he said, which I visit only from time to time. It’s a dark and scary place where a majority live and that is reason enough to dwell among the insane.

    Lou Faber