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.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Risks of Reason
Why must he have such dramatic, though determinedly inane, solutions to every problem or question? Why will reason never suffice? Perhaps reason would require a greater risk of self, an investment beyond what he thinks possible. The drama about which he fantasizes might have all the impact of suicide. It is also as destructive and leaves real response to someone else.
Labels:
foolishness,
reasonableness,
responsibility,
risk
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