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The February Journals №2
Failed Journaling about pilgrimage and partnership
February 11, 20?? 9:22 p.m.
Reading: Mystics and Zen Masters, Thomas Merton
The last eight days have been a Dark Week of the Soul. We will return to the competition discussion at some other time.
Apophatic, Cataphatic, Catatonic
I’ll have another Gin and Tonic
Plutonic, Platonic, Ironic?
Life is just so damn supersonic
Potential Dust. I am but Potential Dust. Nothing will be left and the breeze will take me away. I have strayed so many times from The Path. But You wanted me to stray, didn’t you? It was Your plan that I stray. And as the rain battered me, the branches whipped my skin mixing the blood and salt, the Ridge was high and seemed insurmountable, yet I climbed anyway. Arriving at the Top, there was The Path. I looked back to see it was strewn with the dead and the injured. The dead parts of myself that I had to let go. The injured part of myself that still remained and the Souls that I had injured by my own selfishness. A grey pall lay over them all. Turning, I faced You again, The Path. There the Sun shone on me as my weary limbs began to trudge on. I picked up my walking stick and began again. Another reinvention, deeper, more wise and yet, simple.
