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.
Monday, October 26, 2015
Fear of Fulfillment
We can resist peace, being too familiar with our struggles to know they are without value. Where no one else might see them we can envision tragedies, and will hold to that vision until a real tragedy can emerge. Is happiness so frightening a prospect, and why must we make fulfillment the only villain?
Labels:
familiarity,
fear,
peace,
tragedy
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