METAFIZZLE: I think human beings must be born with something like faith...or is it grace? It's that intangible inside-of-us governor that keeps us from running down the middle of the road shouting "We're all going to die."

Because at some point we all realize it. And since we all wear different weights of different faiths as protective psychic clothing, well, sure, some of us (or I should some of *you*, perhaps) have at least some protection against the cold wind of mortality. But there are many of us, yes, *us*, who are nearly naked out here. Why aren't we running willy-nilly and shouting. How, in the face of 9/11 and the Tsunami, do we just soldier on, just stumble on, just keep on keeping on? Sure, some fall, some surrender, but the mass of us roll on like a great tide of indiscriminate and implausible...what? Hopefulness? Faith? Are we cloaked in grace, even in spite of our clumsy attempts or non-attempts at Faith?

When I was younger I was fascinated with the idea that we are, as one poet or novelist wrote, "magnificent dust." Mostly at that time, I was keyed in on the "magnificent" half of it. Now I'm feeling the "dust" angle, as my body slips and softens somewhat. Wither? Whither?

I'm hearing Talking Heads now: We're on a blog to nowhere. Ah, well. Travel in the morning. At least moving feels like something important.

Comment. Comment. Comment. I implore you, you noble few readers. Bart! Steve! Eric! Trisha! Paul! Buehler!