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.
The more we do, the less we attain -- no matter what we accomplish in the process. We might instead make "nothing" the goal and so working hard will be eliminated, and we can then attain the serenity of "being."
No comments:
Post a Comment