Here it is Sunday night again. Weekends go by too quickly. Today’s weather a mix of rain, clouds, sun, unsettled—I totally understand.
But while walking along the greenbelt: Ongoing drama between sun and clouds. Herons standing stalk still among brush and trees. Ducks dipping and diving, paddling ripples. Geese vee-ing, singing overhead. A curious kestrel watching me, cocking his head as I cocked mine. Faint smells of spring.
Tonight, watched a Yale production of Four Saints in Three Acts with C, my Stein scholar. A delightful play on words, opera, time, and convention. And a good way to end a weekend, since each day does come to an end in the end.
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The Phoenix, known to the Egyptians as the Benu Bird, was one of the primeval forms of the High God. One has to imagine a perch extending out of the waters of the Abyss. On it rests a grey heron, the herald of all things to come. It opens its beak and breaks the silence of the primeval night with the call of life and destiny, which 'determines what is and what is not to be'.
--Rundle Clark, "Myth and Symbol in Ancient Egypt"