Man's Coolest Hour is Just After He Wakes

It's not too beautiful for me now.

I am quite afraid of my own potential.

I am-- for more than one reason, and no good reason at all, and understandably-- terrified of entanglement (also called friendships) while I throw myself, end over end one after one, at intimate relationships. So I know I want something, I just don't know how to find it. My friend Ben says that all anyone is really looking for is intimacy.

And what's more intimate than standing at the edge... looking over... looking into It... having ones own still, calm, wizened visage looking back. The younger finding the elder. The chiseled finding the blank surface. The opined wiping away thoughts. The fog lifting over the combine in the wide field. To be the row turning over once again.

A job is not definitive. However much of a waste of time it may be, it is not the limit. A hobby is not definitive, however enriching. Definition is found only when one leaves their feet, and falls far below towards the clear image seen only in their own mind against the darkness.

It is like Melville said of Man's coolest hour, that time when dreams are still mixed in with the waking life, and nothing is certain, it is what the Greeks and the Romans, and the Egyptians, and the Modernists all knew, what Frank Lloyd Wright preached about, what Lao Tzu sought, what the Stone Masters overcame, what the uncarved block attains without attempting and by doing so forever unveils: it is the manner of form having substance only by virtue of the emptiness that surrounds it; significance finding a home out of chaos; imagination overpowering circumstance.

Let's all take a moment, as I know I will, to think on nothing, and ponder all that we've never been.

Perhaps a word of inspiration... from #43...

Thanks again.