He's sitting in a chair. It's one of the most remarkable things I've
ever seen in my life: this man just sitting in that chair.
You may ask "What's remarkable about something so mundane as a person
sitting in a chair?".
The thing is you never see a person just sitting in a
chair. A person sitting in a chair is never just sitting in the chair.
When they're sitting in a chair, they're doing something else other
than just sitting in the chair. They're thinking. They're looking
around. They're fidgeting. In fact when they're sitting in a chair,
they're doing everything but just sitting in the chair.
He's just sitting in the chair. It's both disconcerting and mesmerizing
I ponder out loud whether the spiritual paradigm is the source of the
human paradigm, or whether the human paradigm is the source of the
spiritual paradigm. He watches me with crystal steel blue eyes which
seem to twinkle a joke, the punch line of which he knows but doesn't
want to spoil for me, and he says, firmly, "Don't know!" in that rich,
deep, Philadelphian accent, the hint of a smile flickering across his
There's no doubt in him as to who he is for himSelf.
None. Zero. And it's not that he has no doubt in that regard because
he's handled doubt, because he's bracketed doubt - if that
were so, it would mean there was doubt. No, it's not that. He has ...
no ... doubt.
During our meeting I jokingly say he being the "king" makes me the
"court jester". He looks up from
and just stares at me ...
"OK OK" I say. "How about 'Poet Laureate' then?".
"Much better" he says slowly, going back to