Aside from the fact that it comes around faster and faster, November's not my favorite month, really, full of memories and anniversaries and birthdays of people long gone. But the advantage of having the years go faster and faster is that each part of them also goes faster! don't like winter? it'll be gone soon...except for last winter, which went on and on.
I'm told that, except for last winter, it's not the time moving faster, it's me, moving slower. Which could certainly be true. Time is weird stuff. It seems the more I have to do, the more time there is to do it in. And days when there are not many obligations or commitments seem to fly by.
In the interests of not letting any more time rush by me, I've been catching up on some reading that I've been thinking for years I should at least dip into. Kahlil Gibran. Thomas a Kempis, which I downloaded onto my Kindle, now that would astonish him. Not a lot there for me, though.
One is pretty superficial, perhaps he's overquoted, and the other is so male oriented -- curb your arrogance, don't speak up, ignore this world in favor of preparing for the next etc., advice for the young headstrong males in the religious life that he was writing for, that I can't yet see a good fit. And he was writing in the age when the body was considered a clumsy package for the soul, not worth attending to in its own right.
Still reading him, though, in hopes.
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