Here I sit on a plane home from home a studio apartment for one I have my hifi, I have my TV, I have my books to be lost in the sky The feeling of solitude and random thoughts of inspiration feed emotions in a rarefied air This pocket of isolation opens my eyes to a world of surprise Away from the crowd of tasks rubbing shoulders with strangers an infinity away this gift of quiet is a freedom the world can't steal from me I could take a trip across the world and find a universe hidden along the way Here, sitting on a plane.
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Terry Pratchett's gone. I feel like I've lost a friend I never met. My third thoughts are watching my second thoughts consider how I'm responding to Terry saying Hello to Death.
(If this makes no sense to you, go and read "The Wee Free Men, "A Hat full of Sky", and more: you'll be doing yourself a favour) (It always amazes me that there aren't more people reading Chesterton. Every time I read even a few pages, I come away with my mind buzzing with thoughts ... the below emerged after reading a few pages of his "Orthodoxy")
I want to be ordinary one of those people amazed by the oddities of life secure in their familiar I don't want to be extraordinary for then I'll become bored by the things that surprise I want to be ordinary fascinated by the discouvery of all that's long been known An explorer who finds new lands that have always been his home Pity the unimaginative the ones with reason alone for they have never known beauty in the simple surprises of home Pity the extraordinarily sane the rational ones who fail to comprehend what lies beyond the scene Why did the chicken cross the road? To get to the other side ... of reason? To escape the pavement of unbelief where life is avoiding the cracks? To pass over and see from the other side? Oh, I want to be ordinary the way I was made to be ever surprised by infinity. Pity the super rational bound in a finite reality god of their universe of self. I want to be ordinary small and fragile in the mystery of life |
Why?
Probably the best therapy is to express yourself. Why do you think psychiatrists make you lie on the couch and talk, while all they do is murmur "hmmm", "uhuh", or "go on"? Archives
May 2017
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