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, May 17, 2015
Embrace the Center
We are, for much of life, in flight from the center of our being, aware of its emptiness and silence, fearing perhaps that it must also be a sad place, too sad to be so essential. To avoid it we can surround ourselves with people and noises, with thoughts and discussions too profound to have importance. Perhaps when we can embrace the center we will become free. Maybe we will then be secure enough to be alone, satisfied to find the silence and at ease within ourselves.
Labels:
insecurity,
living,
ourselves,
silence
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