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Poetry, consciousness, and pretas

Not a bad day so far: compressed fifty years of Voegelin's meditations on the structures of consciousness into five composed pages over a pot of Earl Grey at the Bridgehead, took a walk around the neighbourhood, watched a bit of a softball game, and received word that my paper on Huntington and Toynbee had been accepted for the annual conference of the Atlantic Provinces Political Science Association in Fredericton.

Today's theoretical composition, and today's earlier poetic scribbling, have given me a certain amount of relief and let me feel a bit less pushed-about by hungry ghosts: a feeling helped along by this morning's contemplation of emptiness.

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