Having devoted a fair bit of time to being sad and at times more miserable than seemed reasonable, I must say there is nothing to recommend it. I realize some of it is habit, that the perspective or bias that incline me to this reaction, and the reaction itself, are of long standing. It is also a learned response and I suppose tragic heroes are part of our tradition -- at least they are more prominent than others might be.
I would like now to consider other choices, and while it is a drastic change happiness seems a reasonable option; and so, rather than look for reasons to support or maintain the sadness it may be better to find reasons to set it aside, permitting myself to be better, with better and more faithful responses. While faithful to self, this change is at odds with the tradition and so there is resistance. It does not matter how strange and destructive a tradition may be, its being a tradition gives it frightful power -- but it is the power the healthy tradition will acquire once it becomes established.
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.
Sunday, September 27, 2015
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