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And yet, in my own way, I can with some pride closely identify with the ancients when they say, 'et in Arcadia ego.' I often feel as though I wander in a kind of wilderness, quietly delighting in the deliciousness of bewilderment, a willing exile, as it were. The treasury of the imagination thrives on the small things, the simple crumbs of inspiration become feasts on a barren table, and it is through this vein that I've come to love the soft, endless hills that illuminate the interstate.
In this context, restlessness has become something of a blessing.
Beyond this, the rest of my life can simply be taken to be a matter of detail. Names and places, dates and ambitions become like so many objects, so many curious little things to be gingerly inspected with insatiable fingers, and maybe all of these little things might stand up to scrutiny, and maybe not. They are important to me, yes, and they exercise a great deal of influence upon my course, but yet on a deeper level I am quite gratified to survey my surroundings with a serene interest, like how I would imagine the gas giant Jupiter surveys its many little moons. Isn't that cute...
2 comments:
Does this make you gas giant Susi?
That is cute. It also reminds me of the accountant in Le Petit Prince, who counts all the planets that he "owns" though he's never been to them. Names, dates, etc are much better than objects though because they don't burden you physically. You don't have to spend the entire day filing them and cleaning up around them, although we spend the rest of our lives turning them over in our brains.
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