Some of you may notice that I have changed the name of this site.
When I created this blog (in what I called a fit of late adoption) I struggled briefly with a name that would capture why I was doing this. My urge to start blogging was borne of the ongoing frustration and ennui I felt at not writing for many years from the heart—writing instead for more mercenary reasons that contributed little to the universe. So I quickly came up with the simple moniker “Heart of the Matter”, the most uninspiring of names for what was intended to be a place of inspiration.
That has just changed. I’m not sure why, but I kept thinking of a passage from Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, a book that, in many readings, I have found very inspirational. There’s a spiritual poetry to J.R.R’s writing, colorful enough to evoke simple delight, deep enough to move one’s core.
A phrase rang out to me from a fairly weak memory of the exact wording; when I look up the actual passage, I was pleasantly shocked at how serendipitously it complemented this odd little corner of mine:
That night they heard no noises. But either in his dreams or out of them, he could not tell which, Frodo heard a sweet singing running in his mind; a song that seemed to come like a pale light behind a grey rain-curtain, and growing stronger to turn the veil all to glass and silver, until at last it was rolled back, and a far green country opened before him under a swift sunrise.
I like the idea that whatever I choose to post here has some effect, however minor, in make the world a bit more luminous—a pale light through the grey rain of the quotidian.