tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15131931.post114728293367985294..comments2023-09-18T15:17:54.836+05:30Comments on A walk in the drizzle: Silence...everywhere.Vishwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10212671896677162784noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15131931.post-1147514349107774462006-05-13T15:29:00.000+05:302006-05-13T15:29:00.000+05:30I so agree about unsolicited advice.That one is a ...I so agree about unsolicited advice.That one is a tricky one..I think.educatedunemployedhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09316059351639399463noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15131931.post-1147408189089132692006-05-12T09:59:00.000+05:302006-05-12T09:59:00.000+05:30Nick....I remember reading this poem a long time b...Nick....I remember reading this poem a long time back. Thanks for reminding it.<BR/> Yes, nature makes us forget ourselves. We can only carry back that serenity into our busy lives---how we wish, we could be as serene and calm as the plants are.<BR/><BR/> Read your wisdom on Jen's blog. Only someone with experience can speak with authority---if others attempt, it'll be a kind of eyewash.Vishwahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10212671896677162784noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15131931.post-1147307337087817302006-05-11T05:58:00.000+05:302006-05-11T05:58:00.000+05:30Many years ago when I supervised social services i...Many years ago when I supervised social services in a country south of Louisville, I would often spend my lunch time at a nature preserve that was a ten minute drive along the interstate highway from my office. The place had two major sections: a pure wilderness untouched by human hands except for the hiking trails and a highly groomed arboretum that contained some of the most beautiful trees and plants that I have ever encountered. I could get myself lost in either; when the time came for me to drive back to my office, I sometimes felt as if I were trading a moment in heaven for a day in hell.<BR/><BR/>I agree: the Green Goblin articulated what many people feel in the same manner that Robinson’s poem, Richard Corey, does:<BR/><BR/>And he was rich—yes, richer than a king, <BR/> And admirably schooled in every grace: 10<BR/>In fine, we thought that he was everything <BR/> To make us wish that we were in his place. <BR/> <BR/>So on we worked, and waited for the light, <BR/> And went without the meat, and cursed the bread; <BR/>And Richard Cory, one calm summer night, 15<BR/> Went home and put a bullet through his head. <BR/><BR/><BR/>Thanks for the link to Jen. I visited and left some “wisdom,” which may or may not be wise.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16939152657551690867noreply@blogger.com