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July 20th 2009

    The great leader or the great moment is a yearning that fulfills itself.  Men contemplate the possibility of purpose as explanation and yet the figurehead of purpose is an emotion.  A sense the political class has learned to recognize as the wellspring of power.  These things are promises.

    I cannot remember where I was when President John Kennedy of the United States was killed.  Nor can I remember where I was when a man first stepped onto the moon.  These two events have not managed to stand like beacons in memory for me.  And yet I understand why they have for so many.  It is a joining of minds.  The singularity.  That sense of communion.

    

    Were this recognizable characteristic of thinking an attribute of mind, a physical place in the brain that itches until scratched, then necessarily there would in my memory be alternate beacons I could hold up as representative moments.

    Extraordinary though it might sound, I cannot find such a place.  Some would accuse me of belonging to that branch of the tree alluded to as sociopath.  Others would suggest I consult a herbalist, or a neurosurgeon for help with dementia.  

    But to my way of thinking this lack of place augurs well for our species.    

tim candler

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(Whitey on the moon