Browsing Category: Journal Pages

               “Sometimes, carrying on, just carrying on, is the superhuman achievement.”—Albert Camus                I don’t believe in making, or pretending, life any harder than it is.  Are there hard times?  Of course, but they come and go just as the good; and life is the experience and shapes, in the end, toward where we give […]

         In beginning notice of another, what is real?  What is false?  What is true, and what is imagined?  How do you know?          In first drawing of attentions on focus to another, and one perceives—from them—equal energy returned, cis discernment true; or is believed appearance mere projection, construct, of one’s own quiet hope?          […]

               “Do what you will, you cannot annihilate that eternal relic in the heart of man, love.”—Victor Hugo, Les Miserables                Oh, but how world will try: to denounce the beautiful as ugly; to raise ugly as ideal; to call on suppression of spirit and obeisance to the mass; that beauty and love are decided, […]

               If that is Purgatory’s purpose, is not this world—in so many ways—a mirror?  To live and refine our understanding of love: what it is, what it means?                We climb, or hold fixed at baser levels, as we learn (or never do) vices of love’s extremes, misconceptions, world untruths, as we discern and refine […]

               It rained today.  Before it came, I finished planting of a field and, after accomplishment and when it struck, returned home under its soft fall and patter sound.                  Home, I began into cleaning on a shop beside our home.                 When my family arrived, Owen held behind in car.  I was told he […]

               There was a time in life when all I saw in me was darkness.  I damned myself beyond deserving and, in doing, denied and impaired much good I was able, still, to live.                Such time is past, and I better see now—in this human condition—we all have our shadow-points as well as illuminations. […]

               Love is funny, and we learn this as we grow; maturing and becoming more comfortable with its truths rather than misled in ideal.                In the end, love is not about ourselves at all; but is that which we wish and will for others.                 Our only controlling is in that, of it, we […]