Who is to know what the future brings? The past is only what we carry with us in the present; the present is all we have. And presently, I must break from writing here, I think, for the month to come. I am busy, it is true, but it is that I am going on a trip to Korea with my parents for all of November, and I think I would like a break from the regular course I have been traveling. My parents are old, and though they are in good health, one cannot be sure of anything, so I think I will spend this extended time with them while I can. And I think I do need a vacation from the busy busy of what I have been at in the past year and a half. So au revoir. We shall meet again.

We can stand affliction better than we can prosperity, for in prosperity we forget God.

i have nothing
but the memory of your voice
it leaves that echo
in the hollow of my heart
i am nowhere
everywhere i go
lost in the ghost of you

Sometimes you can actually see yourself as the piece of the puzzle. Perhaps for someone else, or as a part of that which is larger. Do not resist being an element of fate, I think it is safe to say. For it will be written that you tried to transcend the transcendent, and became instead a casualty of destiny, rather than part of a greater sphere. Not to say you should be accessory to any of which that is wrong, if that is the only way the wind seems to blow: methinks anyone who gives that as an excuse knows not the wisdom of the larger voices. For that which is greatest is the greatest of good. And His work bears Him out.

Loving life and becoming wise
In simplicity

– The Who

Arthur G. Dove: Sunrise IV

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What happens when you reach the place where any curse that happens to you, you see as a blessing? Where you see all the magic in the everyday? This is where you realize that the Kingdom of Heaven is within you. This is where you realize that faith in Jesus Christ does not lead to eternal life, that it is eternal life. This is where you realize that you are born not of the flesh, but have become a child of God, born of spirit, and not of material. Calling up above in joyful repentance, “We are unprofitable servants! We have only done as we were told!” Nonetheless, that we have received Him as our Master. Knowing that our souls were unworthy to so receive, but that He only needed say the word, and we were healed. Hallelujah.

Beware: dreams can come true.

i make this journey chased by the fire, to the very end
in hours often dark, as nothing lights the way, steps unknowable
yet up above, the millions of stars, like all the angels watch

We would fain be humble; but not despised. To be despised and rejected is the heritage of virtue. We would be poor, too; but without privation. And doubtless we are patient; except with hardships and with disagreeables. And so with all the virtues.

[Book.]

But all those years ago, when the hormones were still driving me, I was always looking for that angle of attack. To crash and burn all those many times for the few where I could strike home. Back when I was still swimming in the currents of the unpossessed, before any sort of madness had claim to my being. And there was her, the sweet eclectic elf, when I knew so much more than I do now, when I thought I knew it all, even as I claimed to be seeking the very nature of my own self. But truly, if I knew love, I may not have been that far off in my braggadocio. Maybe to know less is to know more, if one is very careful, or very lucky. Myself, I think not the fates were so kind as to leave me in blissful ignorance. Life did not end the night when I had that magical kiss of story and song. What would the tragedy be, I casually wonder, that it continued, or really, if it had ended, just then?

[Book.]

I don’t know what I’ve become like as far as women goes, these days. On one of my days where I was cleaned up, I saw a very attractive female while waiting for a plane at the airport. I was snatching glimpses of her discreetly, when to my surprise, she started giving me the eye back. Mostly I was shy and I turned away from her looking, but when I caught some significant eye contact, there was a feeling in the pit of my stomach like it were swallowing itself, and traces of an anxiety attack in my lungs. Needless to say, I did no such thing as approach her, get within 10 feet of her. I don’t know if I regret not doing so; I have this theory of what is meant to be, and if the conditions could not be overcome somehow, perhaps they were meant to be as things happened: if I were meant to meet her, closer than a roomaway gaze, maybe there would have been more impetus. Maybe. Useless to think any further about it.

...if you never try, you’ll never know

– Coldplay

Rembrandt: Philosopher in Meditation

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in dreamless night the candle is solitary
small in the darkness, not like a star, hidden by distance
dawn is come in hours, but only darkness is now
we whisper carefully, not to blow out the flame
time seems to have forgotten us, here in this corner
all places are the same in the dark, we could be anywhere
but time tells me, not everyone has a candle

Wonder not why it is: all the days before have led to this one.

[Book.]

Really, though, how many nights did we actually have? One? Three? The memory plays tricks on my psyche. But the thing that S. Morgenstern wrote about in that famous book of his (now a major motion picture!): a kiss so innocent and true that it put all other kisses to shame: we had one of those…. Or maybe it was only one of us. Memory plays no tricks with that little prodding; I know I was in love in her general direction, but she… well, not so much back. Romeo and Juliet only really had the one good night, but the feeling they had was returned in kind. So I would have to divide any time I had with her in half, and really, keep dividing it in half until it approached zero. That’s what happens when you have the diminishing return of unrequitedness. But at the time, nothing mattered. I was on a cloud, with the whole world at my fingertips. Those few days were perhaps the happiest I’ve ever been.

Night falls, how small I am when the tiniest star dwarfs me.

Night falls, no dream too dark, no dream too light, whatever may be.

Night falls, and the candle is sometimes in danger of flickering out.

Night falls, somehow the hope against the madness is sustained.

Night falls, and only known to those who run such a mad beating heart.

Night falls, the flavor of darkness an ink to render one asleep.

Night falls, time varying wildly between instants, to turn at will.