an old writer and his words

  • AND THEN

    My Buddhism teaches me that Ishould be in this moment,present in an infinitesimally smallbit of time, always here, never staying.This morning my back had an issuewith me, and made its displeasure known.Pain fills moments, elongates themand time ever moving appears to slow,to grind along, almost to a halt.Would that pleasure might do the samebut it…

    Lou Faber

  • HOW COULD YOU?

    How could you turn your backon Judaism, he asked, as thoughit was a shadow I was trying to outrun.I do not tell him that if his Godwants me to take it up againGod needs only ask me personally,but far too many claim who to be his messengerhave led me to the place I find myself.I…

    Lou Faber

  • UNSHOVELING

    There is much to love here,not the least of which is the lackof snow always needing to be shoveledwhen your back is most sore,when you need to be somewhereon a schedule the clouds chose to ignore.But the one thing you cannot find,the thing you never expectedto be that which you most missis the polychromatic season.For…

    Lou Faber

  • FETCH

    I think I stopped going to partiesbecause I grew tired of hearing howso many other’s lives had gone to hell,how they hated their jobs, and a fewhated their significant others and hopedto make them insignificant othersif they could ever get the courageto leave or ship them out, butmaybe it was just because Istopped getting invited…

    Lou Faber

  • THE PARK

    He was taking a shortcut across the park. He saw the clouds building, about to bring the long-promised rain. He wasn’t sure why he decided to walk home rather than take the bus as he usually did. He didn’t like to walk, but the doctor had told him he needed to exercise more, and he…

    Lou Faber

  • STILL WAITING

    We have been waiting for herbut she is again reluctant to appearand this night chooses to hidebehind a veil of gossamer clouds.How often has she turned her back on us,allowing us only a passing glimpseand still we always await her, for sheis our inamorata and we feelsomehow incomplete in her absence.She know that she will…

    Lou Faber

  • IN PASSING

    As we walk along the shoreof the man-made lakein the planned community’s “town,”the birds array themselvesin a ragged single fileas I pass and I imagined eachlooks up at me posing.Once I would’ve stopped,raised my camera, capturedthem, or their facsimilebut those days are donefor I no longer blog themone thousand posts gone byand my back and…

    Lou Faber

  • ON THE CUSHION

    The day has slipped away,or mostly so, as they often doas if nature provided a hiddengrease that lets them outof our grasp no matterhow hard we try and hold them.It is little consolation, laterin life, that nights demonstrateand equal unwillingnessto remain very long, as ifour dreams must be hurriedas are our days and nights.Sitting on…

    Lou Faber

  • NEBULAS

    I can still recall the hoursspent dragging the giantDobsonian Telescope from the houseinto the yard, back or frontdepending on his demands.Then together we would aimthe beast, a simple tube really,with precisely placed lensesand mirrors, and he wouldpeer through the eyepieceand tell me what we were staring at.Actually he was staring, but hewould give me a…

    Lou Faber

  • UNDER FOOT

    Okay, let’s get some things straight once and for all. I don’t live in a shoe. It’s a work of modern architecture, a quite normal if unusual looking home,, and if you imagine it shoe-like, so be it. I’m not old, I’m 45, but with eight kids I am prematurely gray. It wasn’t broth I…

    Lou Faber