Sunday, March 22, 2009

The greatest events, aren't the loudest but the most quiet hours

I was a dreamy kid, maybe a little spoiled.  Philosophy really had nothing to do with what I wanted.  I wanted truth with a capital T.  I was shocked by the suffering in the world.  And I had an unhappy love, a long term relationship that didn't work out, which really loosened my mooring for a while.  So philosophy caught me on the rebound.  At the time I believe that I had seen through the empty values of the modern world and exhausted my personal delusions.  The world is still empty and my personal delusions are inexhaustible. 

I could feel that old dangerous vagueness in myself today, the sudden gape of longing, blind and fierce and ravenous for some impossible delicacy.  For a music I had never quite heard but always suspected was there, if I could just listen right.  For a love that did not fail.  For the surprise of goodness.  But it all sounded wrong and clumsy.  And somewhere in the longs course of getting to know myself it became clear to me that I hadn't renounced intimacy at all.  I had simply failed at it. There is a liberation in a truth like that.  

There is a lightness that comes when you realize that you're not going to be able to make something work, no matter how hard you try.   When you finally let go of wanting, out of pure exhaustion. 

Word I was in the house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God.
Robert Frost- Bereft

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Very touchy and awesome, really! :-)

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