Sabbath Day – Twelfth Night
So this is Twelfth Night, the last of the twelve days of Christmas and evening before Epiphany. I actually started my sabbath day late last night. It’s been a rich 24 hours.
- Took in a show at Garcias last night with Betty and the Boards, a groovy Dead cover band. My friend Bill Bonnaci sat in on the second set and soared.
- Spent my whole morning reading the correspondence between Rene Descartes and Princes Elizabeth of Bohemia, who he claimed was the only person who understood everything he had written. Problem is, she knew he was wrong, about a great many things. Elizabeth offers a picture of an alternative modernity – a road not taken.
- As an avid hiker/walker, I was pleased to discover that the hymn “This is My Father’s World” which I used to love singing as a kid, was written by a Presbyterian pastor in Lockport, NY, inspired by his daily walks in God’s creation. Added hiking in Lockport (near Niagara Falls) to my bucket list.
- After lunch I read an essay by Michel de Certeau on walking in the city (where I am more likely to walk during the winter), which involves a ‘grammar of motion’ writing ‘spatial stories of resistance.’ So I took a walk in my city, and sat on a storefront stoop with my eyes closed listening to footsteps. Clear in the cold. Came home to to read about international walking clubs in Rebecca Solnit’s Wanderlust: A History of Walking, a story that echoed the idea of walking as resistance to modernity.
- Planned my next long hike.
- Picked up a pizza for dinner and watched a little bit of Captain America: Civil War with August. The little guy was not feeling well (neither was I, the biggest reason my day was filled with reading rather than hiking), so he begged off his responsibility with the goats at the Nature Center and we then curled up on the couch to read The Golden Compass together.
- After he went to bed, I finished Season 1 of Marvel’s Daredevil and began Jessica Jones. Slowly marching my way through the new Marvel universe.
I took this photo at the concert last night. While we were hiking on the Appalachian Trail this summer, my son gave me the trail name “Grateful Dad.” I saw this t-shirt hanging on the wall, folded just so, and couldn’t resist the photo: Good ole Grateful Dad. At the end of this Sabbath Day, that’s exactly what I am.