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  • We were walking up in the cold wind to our favourite pasta joint for Friday night gnocchi and Chianti.

    I said, "On the Cow someone was talking about the Tao."

    D. said, "The Dow?"

    "Yeah," I said. "The Dow Te Ching."

    D. said, "The Dow Cha-Ching."

    I said, "We better watch it, or the Tao will become the Dow, and the Te Ching be just Cha-Ching at the register."

    We got to the pasta joint, and over gnocchi (with chicken, artichoke, tomatoes, cream), we talked about Stephen Mitchell's translation of The Book of Job.

    (Add espresso, add hazelnut plus pistachio gelato, to continue the Tao of Nosh. Two spoons.)

    We came home, and I fished Mitchell's Job off the shelf. It had been waiting patiently for me, beside my Thomas Mertons and Ernesto Cardenals.

    It seems we are in a Tao-Dow face-off, these days.

    I think after the dentist has his way with me this morning, that The Book of Job may be the way to go, as the clocks prepare their turning.

    (Is there not an appointed time?.....
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