Morning Trip (50)

“The man who promises everything is sure to fulfil [sic] nothing, and everyone who promises too much is in danger of using evil means in order to carry out his promises, and is already on the road to perdition.
Carl Jung”

“The road to perdition has ever been accompanied by lip service to an ideal.
Albert Einstein”

And now this, to express the other morning ponderers within…
“The early hours of morning; you still aren’t writing (rather, you aren’t even trying), you just read lazily. Everything is idle, quiet, full, as if it were a gift from the muse of sluggishness,

just as earlier, in childhood, on vacation, when a colored map was slowly scrutinized before a trip, a map promising so much, deep ponds in the forest like glittering butterfly eyes, mountain meadows drowning in sharp grass;

or the moment before sleep, when no dreams have appeared, but they whisper their approach from all parts of the world, their march, their pilgrimage, their vigil at the sickbed (grown sick of wakefulness), and the quickening among medieval figures

compressed in endless stasis over the cathedral; the early hours of morning, silence — you still aren’t writing,

you still understand so much. Joy is close.”
– Adam Zagajewski
Without End

Joy within, even in Perdition.

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4 thoughts on “Morning Trip (50)

    • When is life really such a tight rope, a high-wire from which a fall is damnation, eternal inner turmoil doubt of right and wrong, some shade in between. Which thing is really the step into payment? How much joy is missed? How much is created by the foraging?

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      • Is a fall really damnation? Is there really right and wrong? Is there something within–beyond the thoughts and emotions–which KNOW how to navigate the tight rope? Can right and wrong be relative the moment? Is so much joy missed while we ponder, thinking the mind can provide answers? Is everything created by the foraging, and yet nothing at all? (Sorry, just thought to toss in some more questions to the fray)

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