Most visits come from web surfers who stumble on a tagged topic of interest.
Two posts getting a lot of hits recently have to do with what happens when the word “God” is substituted for the word “Spirit” in familiar quotations — and vice versa.
If you are interested, the posts are here and here.
The ever-popular “tipsy beer truck” post also maintains its following although it clearly isn’t the same as those hitting on the God/Spirit posts.
Those in the know about blogging “success” (whatever that means) might fault the Red Electric for lack of focus. Beer trucks? God?
So what about my summer's lapse in writing? It’s not that I’m running on fumes; it’s just that I’m not sure anyone is particularly interested in what I’ve been thinking or doing of late.
Maybe your life is a lot like mine these pre-Indian Summer days. Scattered.
Oh, today, I went for an invigorating, forested walk with my visiting sister. How did we both end up in our sixties?
I’m going to Fairbanks, Alaska, early next month on Quaker business. Yes, there are Quakers in Fairbanks.
I’m still trying to block JPMorgan/Chase Bank from opening an unneeded branch in Hillsdale ... and I’m trying to attract a credit union instead.
The Hillsdale community held a celebratory and astonishing Paella dinner for 250 on Saturday night. It was a civic, culinary cabal of friends and neighbors.
National politics is mind-boggling and sad. The only thing worse is the horse-race coverage of it. It’s the beginning of a long silly season ... with a lot at stake.
I’m reading “The Gnostic Gospels,” Hemingway short stories and Chris Hedges’ “American Fascists, The Christian Right and the War on America” (Could things be THAT bad?)
Meanwhile I edit, write and publish The Hillsdale News, which saps writing energy and keeps me out of trouble and busy.
Our Quaker Multnomah Friends Meeting continues to amaze. Vibrant, growing, learning, nurturing, challenging.
How different are my two beloved communities: one secular in Hillsdale, the other spiritual yet deeply engaged in the suffering and injustices of the world. In both, we love, honor and respect each other. It’s hard at times. We differ. We make mistakes. We perform heroics despite ourselves. We talk. We look each other in the eyes, the windows to the soul, and connect to our shared humanity.
It’s “nothing to write home about," but, scattered as it is, it seems important to share for whatever truth it holds.