In truth I think opera, or falconry, or Greek poetry, or philosophy, or barnacles, or martial arts all to be worthy of a little obsession. Certainly they all reward it in precisely the manner you suggest. It's the niggling collection of crossroad gossip that's really worrisome--my own most prominent demon of which is encountered in the form of the Roguelike Game. I also recall a conversation we had while slinging, about the terrifying nearness of becoming connoisseurs of aerodynamic rocks....

But the great truths and disciplines illuminate not only themselves, but the source and method of knowledge, as you say. It's not just that one learns how to move from martial arts, but also that from moving, one learns the art.

I shall certainly miss your posts, but I do understand the apathy towards blogging. I've got a bit of it myself these days. My recent promotion at work has given me a number of new procedures (I feel exactly like I did in second grade, when I cheated on an art test and the teacher called on me first for the rest of the year, thinking that I knew what was going on) and... modes of being, I guess... to learn, which has made me less interested in (for example) tracking down articles about the Mount Mihara suicides. C'est la vie, c'est la guerre, c'est le pomme de terre.

Heavens, my first paragraph reads Dadaist back to me, now that I look it over. That'll put marzipan in your pie-plate, bingo!