"be not many among ye masters..."
As we approach the Day of Pentecost, the "special one" that they told you about, and in the afterglow of the Aztec Death Moon on April 9 2024, our "mejor que" is our master and our "menos que" is one to be "pedagogged" and shewed about the insistent and omnipresent firmament.
All else is spirit.
My Uncle showed me how to tie knots. And he was an old hand at the knack, a thing learned as a soldier.
One, how to wake up with a song near the lips. Another, how to balance indulgence and a schedule, how to set aside the time for something good, washing away the nuisance spill of the day.
To be skillfull with one's hands.
To be self-sufficient, as of a break-down, to take it up proper and go to it; that if he flinched or blinked, it did not stampede or impede progress.
That right balance of tension, turmoil and joy that makes a man know when to spring and when to winter-over near the Delaware. "What holds a man together, while also pulling him apart", why urban legend said it was the little sliver of skin between the tessies and the rear stoop.
Teach them wrong in the afternoon, then one has to clean the bad lessons overnight, re-introducing all of the information: such is the way of phoning-in the lessons, with neither unction nor passion, rather than being more--say--round and entire, in one's manner of instruction.
"be the best, my boy. the brightest."
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