#71

Iron John was way, way better than I thought it would be. There is present an element that is a little too much in the vein of that detestable New-Age Pseudo-Hermeneutic Ur-Fascist nonsense to be taken seriously, but for the most part, it was a much more serious and intelligent and nourishing and correct book than I could have hoped. It was given me years ago, and the time was just right to finally read it.

This often happens; I'll lay a book by, consider reading it many times over the years, listen to the little voice inside that says "not quite yet, no, pick another.". Then I read it, the day comes, and I know that the moment was exactly ripe, that the knowledge would have saved me much time and trouble but I would not have been receptive to it, would not take it in as fully and perhaps even have abandoned it. It comes with rereading too; that sense of returning to familiar ground just when your feet most needed to be there.

By and by I shall want to write about some of the stuff that book presented me with. Also, about virtue. In the coming days, I shall bring these things forth. For today, my routine is disturbed, and I must away, hoping the disturbance does not reverberate the string of my life overmuch. It is difficult enough to resemble a tuned state even without these vagaries.

--JL