NB: Notes About Notes

I Don’t Have Time As usual and she made me laugh all day. It’s a phrase we all use. Polite. Efficient. Unassailable. But beneath its surface, something else stirs. “I don’t have time” rarely means a shortage of minutes. It’s a shield. A signal. A soft refusal wrapped in social grace. Sometimes it means: “I’m not ready to feel what this might awaken.” Or: “I’d rather not engage with what this asks of me.” Or simply: “This doesn’t belong in my current rhythm.” And that’s okay. Not every offering needs to be received. Not every reflection needs to be read. Not every gesture needs to be mirrored. But let’s not pretend it’s about the clock. Time is elastic. What we truly mean is: “I choose not to enter this space right now.” And that choice deserves respect. Still, for those who offer— A text, a stone, a question— Know this: Even unanswered, the gesture ripples.  

Author’s Note: The Garden Between In the liminal space between flame and thread, this play unfolds. The Garden Between is not merely a tale of desire—it is a meditation on transformation. Beneath the dialogue of Goracio and Witness lies a deeper current: the evolution of love from hormonal hunger to conscious union, from instinct to meaning. In youth, attraction is gormandize—voracious, impulsive, spring-like. Estrogen, testosterone, dopamine, oxytocin: these are not just chemicals, but archetypal messengers. They speak the body’s longing in nature’s tongue, translating life’s will into sensation. Through this craving, life renews itself. But time softens the hormonal symphony. Fertility wanes, and consciousness deepens. The body, once the stage of desire, yields to the soul. What once burned as lust becomes a quieter fire—connection, companionship, shared meaning. This is not the death of passion, but its alchemy. Love matures into recognition: the meeting of two inner worlds, each b...

Scene: “The Threshold of Flame and Thread” Setting : A twilight garden, half-wild, half-tended. Vines curl around marble columns. A table stands between two chairs—one draped in crimson silk, the other in worn parchment scrolls. Characters : Goracio : Dionysian, radiant, impulsive, sensual. Wears wine-stained robes and speaks in poetic bursts. Witness : Senecan, composed, deliberate, philosophical. Wears a scholar’s cloak and carries a small book of meditations. Act II, Scene IV Goracio (entering with a goblet of pomegranate wine) : The pulse! The ache! The feast of flesh! You speak of bonds, but I— I am the hunger before the vow. The glint in the eye before the name is spoken. Why do you bind the flame with thread? Witness (rising slowly) : Because the flame, untethered, consumes. And thread—woven with care—becomes a cradle. You chase the shimmer of youth, Goracio, But love is not a chase. It is a return. Goracio (laughs, circling): Return? To what? To the dull rhythm of duty? To t...

Stone in the Pocket of Time     Carried in peace, warmed by touch—a talisman of paradox and reconciliation. My colleague brought back a piece of ancient history—a small stone from the Acropolis, perhaps even the Parthenon. It’s impossible to say whether it’s a true fragment of the temple or simply a stone from nearby. But that’s beside the point. What matters is that it lay there for thousands of years, bearing silent witness to the birth of philosophy, democracy, and myth. Someone may have touched it. Someone may have stepped on it. It doesn’t matter—it was there. And that’s enough. But this stone carries more than age. It holds four quiet enchantments: It was given as a gift —not taken, not claimed, but offered. That alone imbues it with relational meaning. It was warm when received —carried in a pocket, close to the body, absorbing the giver’s warmth. A trace of human presence, still lingering. It was found near the Parthenon , a temple built to commemorate the Greek victor...

The Transmission To an unexpected recipient, a reflection on pause   Suddenly, I understand something essential:   I do not need a reader! Why would I? For applause? For recognition of the content? No. That’s not the point. I am not a performer. I am not a messenger awaiting reply. I am a transmitter. I create waves in the Universe—gestures, phrases, fragments of coherence. Whether anyone is on the other side to receive them… that is unknowable. Physicists remind us: If no recipient is defined, no information is transferred. The signal may exist, but without reception, it remains unconfirmed, a simple nose. We cannot predict who will catch it, or when, or how. But perhaps that’s not failure. Perhaps that is freedom. To transmit without demand. To gesture without grasp. To offer without expectation. So let’s transmit. Not for response, but for resonance. Not for audience, but for alignment. Not for permanence, but for presence. Let the signal ripple outward. Let the stone warm ...

Eight Forms of Love  Horatio refers to them, but mentioned only 7 of eight. Eros : Named after the god of love, this is passionate, sexual love characterized by intense desire. The Greeks viewed it as a powerful and potentially dangerous force.   Philia : This describes the love of friendship, loyalty, and shared experiences. It is a love between equals and a dispassionate, virtuous affection.   Storge : This is the natural affection felt between family members, such as parents and children.   Agape : This refers to unconditional, selfless love, often described as divine or universal love extended to all people.   Ludus : This is the playful, sometimes flirty and teasing, kind of love, often seen in the early stages of a relationship.   Pragma : This is enduring love that has developed over a long period and is based on commitment, compromise, and patience.   Philautia : This is self-love. The Greeks understood it can be a positive form of self-...

Three Faces of Time: The Ancient Greek View Time is a person’s most precious resource The ancient Greeks—whose thought forms the bedrock of European culture—understood this deeply. They saw time not as a single stream, but as three distinct currents: Kronos  – the relentless, linear time Cyclos – the cyclical rhythm of events Kairos – the opportune moment, ripe with possibility Kronos: The March of Irrevocable Time Kronos, named after the Greek god who devoured his children, represents sequential, biological time—unstoppable and irreversible. It is the time of clocks and calendars, of aging and deadlines. The Romans called him Saturn, the god of sowing and harvest, echoing the same truth: time moves forward, and we must act wisely within its bounds. Kronos cannot be paused or rewound. It demands planning, execution, and completion. Intelligence, in this frame, is not just problem-solving—it’s solving well and swiftly. That’s why intelligence tests are timed: success in Western ci...

Goracio and Witness — On Happiness and the Mesolithic Soul Happiness isn’t something we chase—it’s something we remember. Witness: Goracio, people often say life is about the pursuit of happiness. Do you believe that? Goracio: I do not. For some of us, the word “happiness” doesn’t exist—not in any meaningful way. It’s not a term I use. Not a question I chase. So this conversation… it will be external to me. As it always has been. Witness: Still, it’s everywhere. People chase it through wealth, status, even substances. Some say happiness is a yacht, a line of cocaine, or a plane full of models. Goracio: That’s the extreme materialist view. A life reduced to dosage and display. We won’t linger there. Let’s speak instead of what happiness might mean—if it means anything at all. Witness: Then where do we begin? Goracio: With the Mesolithic hunter. Before agriculture, before cities. A person who lived lightly, worked little, and knew the forest like a sibling. That, I sus...

Witness on   The Heat of Youth, the Cool of Age They say the old are happier. I believe them. Not because their bodies are light—no, they carry pain like weathered stones. But because their hearts have learned the art of distance. In youth, every touch is a prophecy. Every silence, a blade. We burn with wanting, and call it love. We suffer, and call it meaning. But age… age teaches the difference. That not every ache is sacred. That not every glance must be answered. I remember the chaos— the trembling hands, the sleepless nights, the way we clutched at each other like drowning men. And now? I sit in the same chair. The world still turns. But I no longer mistake the turning for my own undoing. This is not apathy. This is clarity. And it is, strangely, a kind of joy. Author's note On Aging, Intimacy, and Emotional Distance This reflection touches on a profound shift that often accompanies aging: the loosening of emotional entanglement with certain desires, especially those tied...

  Synchronicity on the Shore  A meaningful coincidence   Earlier this year, before my journey to Switzerland, I immersed myself in the writings of Carl Gustav Jung. I wasn’t thinking about geography—just ideas. Archetypes, the collective unconscious, the shadow. I didn’t even register that Jung had lived in Zurich.  Then came Sunday, September 14th. We took a boat across Lake Zurich, snapping pictures along the way. At one stop— Küsnacht —I felt something shift. Maybe it was the “LOVE” sculpture. Maybe something else. I took a photo, not knowing why, just knowing it mattered.  Weeks later, back in the U.S., the thought struck: Wait—didn’t Jung live in Zurich? I looked it up. And there it was: Seestrasse 228, Küsnacht , right next to the lake. Just steps from where I stood, camera in hand. It was a moment of synchronicity —Jung’s own term for a meaningful coincidence. No causal link, just resonance. Internal and external events aligning, quietly, without explana...

Customer Support Interaction Location: call from Dubai to Sunnyvale Participants: Customer (C), Support Agent Jim (S), Technical Lead George(S2) Jim ( S ) is stuck in traffic on his way to the office and answers the phone. S: Good morning, this is Jim from Customer Support, Sunnyvale. How may I assist you today? C: Hello, I’m calling from Dubai. The device isn’t functioning properly. S: I’m sorry to hear that. Could you please clarify what’s not working? C: It’s not recording. S: Understood. Have you tried using the clip tool? C: The click tool? S: No, the clip tool, C-L-I-P tool. You’ll find it at the bottom of the console. C: Let me check… No, it still doesn’t work. S: Is the system currently in recording mode? C: What do you mean by recording mode? S: Is the red indicator light blinking? C: No, it’s not. S: I see. Do you recall when the issue first occurred? C: I’m not sure. I’ve never seen it working. S: Thank you. Please hold while I consult with our technical ...