I am yet to meet someone who has weaponized the ‘F’ word to be grounded, loving, magnanimous, honest, and self-aware.
May we all polish the mirrors of our being and see that we are either our own salvation or demise. It is a fool’s errand and a dangerous game to yoke our joy to the hands of another.
I am yet to meet someone who has weaponized the ‘F’ word to be grounded, loving, magnanimous, honest, and self-aware.
May we all polish the mirrors of our being and see that we are either our own salvation or demise. It is a fool’s errand and a dangerous game to yoke our joy to the hands of another.
Reading your piece today opened a need to re read poet Robinson Jeffers. I post my first choice below, in full:
The Vulture
"I had walked since dawn and lay down to rest on a bare hillside
Above the ocean. I saw through half-shut eyelids a vulture wheeling
high up in heaven,
And presently it passed again, but lower and nearer, its orbit
narrowing,
I understood then
That I was under inspection. I lay death-still and heard the flight-
feathers
Whistle above me and make their circle and come nearer.
I could see the naked red head between the great wings
Bear downward staring. I said, "My dear bird, we are wasting time
here.
These old bones will still work; they are not for you." But how
beautiful
he looked, gliding down
On those great sails; how beautiful he looked, veering away in the
sea-light
over the precipice. I tell you solemnly
That I was sorry to have disappointed him. To be eaten by that beak
and
become part of him, to share those wings and those eyes--
What a sublime end of one's body, what and enskyment; what a life
after death."
Once you told me I was special, but now you tell me I am not. Once you told me I was good, but now you tell me I am not.
You are only good and special if you obey. That is the lesson of the post 2020 world.