It is refreshing to engage with the minds of others, is it not? I have always found it so – the human mind is capable of exciting possibilities and creativity. For instance, the choice of words is vital, and not in poetry alone. Leopold Bloom even creates words, finding meaning in the union of disparate words to perfectly convey what he thinks or sees. Yet, this does not mean all experience is necessarily pleasant. Often the mind is haunted by the past. Time is quite a preoccupation for humanity, especially where we now find ourselves. The man Leopold Bloom is representative of many men, which links him to other people, places, and ages. This man thinks deeply, if not with intent, of the things he encounters, and seems occasionally saddened by the weight of the lives of some inhabitants of the past, including those of Jewish faith. Is it possible for souls to transcend time, to return repeatedly? This is one idea he brings forth. I choose not to reveal such an answer to you all, but you may consider the implications. And, for the men and women of London whom we meet, there is a new understanding of the reality of time; how spectacular, all of humanity coming to understand the magic of the mysterious wider universe. While I can touch some with the beauty of mountains and trees, others may be brought to humility and inspiration with this further phenomena.

Too, there is some consideration for both the inward and outward life of a person now. That is, there is now a pragmatic understanding that the two may differ. I remember the days when it was simpler for people to give in to introspection and to unleash creativity in this way. There was the knowledge of the inner self and the expectations of society, but the two were rather rigid. It seems to be a subject now dealt with using better humor and a more realistic grasp of the limitations of knowledge. While one may attempt to know another human being as thoroughly as possible, there is always a distinction between the two, even allowing for the connections between people that exist due to the bond of living. Leopold Bloom is curious about others and imaginative. Peter Walsh and Clarissa Dalloway know each other but the way in which they see themselves and the way in which they relate to one another is full of variety. In this changing world, who is to say what is the truth, and is it necessary to find it?

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