Thursday, April 27, 2006

Like a passing river...

[River Thames, just east of Kew Bridge at very low tide twilight]

It's hard to believe that it's been two weeks since I left France. If you've ever hated packing to go away, think of what it means to be partly-packed for months at a time - 11 months as of yesterday! For a good part of these two weeks I've been staring down piles of clothes, language notes, travel documents, books, CDs and computer paraphernalia - hoping they'll magically classify themselves as store / keep at hand / dispose.

Most of that is done now, and as Printemps gives way to Spring, I've got some more time to think of upcoming months. I'm also relearning what to do now that I haven't 4 enjoyable hours of French lessons to consume the early part of my day. Unfortunately it involves at least 30 minutes on a cross-trainer at the gym, and other unhealthy exertions.

I had word today that a surgeon to handle Bondi's arthroscopy has been identified, although the surgery is likely to kick-in at over £1000. He's only covered for that on his Australian pet-insurance, but the airfare/quarantine issues of sending him there vastly overwhelm that cost.

I've also had my resume reviewed by recruiters in Google Europe and I'm expecting a call any day to discuss work opportunities somewhere between Dublin and Zurich.
The title of this blog posting comes from a CD collaboration by the composer Roy Whelden and the author/mathematician Rudy Rucker. The title track, a personal favourite since I encountered it nearly 15 years ago, is taken from a poem:

I have lived at Cold Mountain these 30 long years. Yesterday I called on family and friends: More than half had gone to the Yellow Springs. Slowly consumed, like fire down a candle; forever flowing, like a passing river. Now, morning, I face my lone shadow; suddenly my eyes are bleared with tears.

--Han-Shan, 8th century;
translation, Gary Snyder
Listen to it here with a short spoken preamble from Rucker.

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