You might consider this Part II of Ruminations…explaining itself to itself. A few followers have questioned the tone I’ve taken in my weekly mull.  Comments have ranged from “your tone is a bit snappy for my taste“, then gone downhill to “it’s

A number of folks have asked recently: Why Ruminations…? I assume they’re referring to the name of this blog and not why I would waste even one minute writing this stuff. If the question is to the latter, let’s just say I’m trying to wrestle with a few imponder

I left off last week with a Cartesian Square Dance – body in a Texas Do Sa Do with the mind’s tune. So,…what about bodies? And what do bodies really have to do with minds? Okay, hang on,…no rolling, center up those eyeballs. I’m trying to make this fun. I know it req

I live in my own mindAin’t nothin but a good timeNo rain just the sunshineOut here in my own mind…L.P.L. A few weeks back (see Ruminations…01.03.13), I wrote about the difference between minds and brains. This week’s topic is once again about the inside of one&

Last week in Ruminations…I mentioned The Sound of Music. Big mistake. My Favorite Things…don’t even go there. Besides the stuck tune, I’m sure, by now, you know how I feel about “Things” (if not, see Ruminations…10.25.12). In truth, I like the

Last week I wrote about Robespierre, The Incorruptible (Ruminations…01.03.12). This week, it’s Me, The Unsociable. Riding the Single Chair…sounds like it could be either a Zen kōan or something from Vātsyāyana’s Kama Sutra, don’t you think? I do. But here

Last week I wrote about placing one’s bet on what is real and what is not,…and sticking with it. Of course, by real, I meant what is important to you, what is worth believing in, fighting for, persuading others to get on board with, etc. After all, what could be more real

Each December, young parents must face one of the great metaphysical dilemmas of all time…well, at least, of recent times,…that is, of recent Judeo-Christian,…ok, Christian…never mind. The point is this: Sleigh bells are ringing off the hook and your little darling leans up, sof

Earlier I wrote about bookstore readings and the difficulty facing the author when his or her book is written in the first person (Ruminations…11.29.12) – when the “I” who reads from the book is the “I” who wrote the words that the “I” speaks in the

Two photographs flank a painting here. One photo is taken from our place in upstate New York and the other from our place in New York City. I show them not to shout out our real estate holdings (…guess where we’re rent-stabilized), or to contrast Walden Pond with Thoreau’s swampy Civi