the consecration of the house

on the beginnings of things...

“You only like the beginnings of things,” an exasperated Dr Faye Miller once said of Don Draper. Mercifully, I am not Don Draper. Well, okay, not entirely… But I do rather like the beginnings of things. A lot. In every new beginning, there is the slightest hint of spring. Hope abounds. Heart and head function as one. The destination may well be unclear – perhaps even irrelevant – yet the mere prospect of the journey absolutely titillates.

Alas, here we are. The commencement of something new, exciting. New for me, that is. And I am genuinely delighted you’ve elected to come along.

I haven’t a clue as to where we shall ultimately land. I don’t particularly care. But I do fully intend to enjoy the journey, and I sincerely hope you will find in me a companionable guide, however occasionally querulous (though, one hopes, never noisome or contemptible).

Here in this space, we shall reminisce, opine, examine, celebrate, laugh, mourn. There are no rules here, save one – be thoughtful. In the fullest sense of that word. I promise to you candour and honesty and purposeful precision. I ask of you patience and trust and intellectual curiosity.

I will follow no set schedule. I intend to share, for the most part, long-form thoughts and expositions, but I will never waste your time. I will not hold punches wherever philosophical fisticuffs is warranted. I will not thin the soup whenever full fat would better serve our meal. This is a laboratory, a salon, an arena. But it is no echo chamber. Push back, but do so from principle, never emotion.

That said, off we trot.

But first, an entreaty – an anointing, of sorts. As with coins hid under the mast afore sailors would set to sea… As with Herr van Beethoven’s musical christening of the Josefstadt, I offer these borrowed, fragmentary words from Emerson’s “Concord Hymn” –

…On this green bank, by this soft stream,
We set today a votive stone;
That memory may their deed redeem,
When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

Spirit, that made those heroes dare
To die, and leave their children free,
Bid Time and Nature gently spare
The shaft we raise to them and thee.

Welcome, friend. It’s good to have you here.