The sky was glorious today at sunset — and we even saw a very distinctive green flash, but this won my heart. An enormous cycad with all this amazing texture and color at the center.
Will the center truly hold? I know that’s from a Yeats poem, “The Second Coming,” written after WWI. I need to learn more about it. A quick reading leads me to think he’s saying we need a miracle after the horror of the war. Still so. And ‘miracle’ is not common currency, to mix metaphors in a pointed way. Our problems are solvable, yet seemingly intractable. There is enough food. There is enough water. There is enough expertise. Is there enough good will?
And — The center? Whose center? And who decides? Someone always has to decide. Therein lies the problem, she says, emitting a large, time-honored sigh.