Before anyone else even knew the words, Albert was talking of solar energy. He understood it, as he did most things, and he said it would work, that it could be the energy of the future and that we could let that future begin almost anytime we choose. Of course, hardly anyone agreed. Maybe it was because there was so much invested in other systems, or maybe the newness of the idea made it hard to hear.
It is hardly different for those Alberts of the world whose discovery is God. They want to but cannot share, since no one will take their gift. People run from the hearing of this newness, but their reluctance will not make the reality less real. Like the sun, it continues. It won't go away.
My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
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