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he who saves a single soul saves the world entire (@wimannn /// ig: @photohelll// )
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617
где-то там - не лучше. не ждать когда будет лучше. если все вдруг оборвется - лучше может и не быть. да и что такое лучше вообще? нет ничего кроме сейчас, которое нужно лелеять как раз таки потому что кроме него ничего нет.
только это очень трудно и мне пока неясно.
617
there are a lot of incomprehensible little pieces inside me that get on my mind while i’m alone on a sad but busy day and hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt me so much
617
The shadows of the massed black
pines were lavender in that bright light, and I walked with Valerie awhile, down the familiar labyrinth of shoveled asylum paths. Doctors and nurses and
patients passing on adjoining paths seemed to be moving on casters, cut off at
the waist by the piled snow.
“Interviews!” Valerie snorted.
“They’re nothing! If they’re going to let you out, they let you out.”
“I hope so.”
In front of Caplan I said
good-bye to Valerie’s calm, snowmaiden face behind which so little, bad or good, could happen, and walked on alone, my breath coming in white puffs even
in that sun-filled air. Valerie’s last, cheerful cry had been “So long!
Be seeing you.”
“Not if I know it,” I thought.
But I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure at all. How did I know that someday — at college, in Europe, somewhere, anywhere — the bell jar, with its stifling distortions, wouldn’t descend again? And hadn’t Buddy said, as if to revenge himself for my digging out the car and his having to stand by, “I wonder who you’ll marry now, Esther.”
“What?” I’d said, shoveling snow up onto a mound and blinking against the stinging backshower of loose flakes.
“I wonder who you’ll marry now, Esther. Now you’ve been,” and Buddy’s gesture encompassed the hill, the pines and the severe, snow-gabled buildings breaking up the rolling landscape, “here.”
And of course I didn’t know who
would marry me now that I’d been where I had been. I didn’t know at all.
617
Because here's something else that's weird but true: in the day-to day trenches of adult life, there is actually no such thing as atheism. There is no such thing as not worshipping. Everybody worships. The only choice we get is what to worship. And the compelling reason for maybe choosing some sort of god or spiritual-type thing to worship -- be it JC or Allah, bet it YHWH or the Wiccan Mother Goddess, or the Four Noble Truths, or some inviolable set of ethical principles -- is that pretty much anything else you worship will eat you alive. If you worship money and things, if they are where you tap real meaning in life, then you will never have enough, never feel you have enough. It's the truth. Worship your body and beauty and sexual allure and you will always feel ugly. And when time and age start showing, you will die a million deaths before they finally grieve you. On one level, we all know this stuff already. It's been codified as myths, proverbs, clichés, epigrams, parables; the skeleton of every great story. The whole trick is keeping the truth up front in daily consciousness.
Worship power, you will end up feeling weak and afraid, and you will need ever more power over others to numb you to your own fear. Worship your intellect, being seen as smart, you will end up feeling stupid, a fraud, always on the verge of being found out. But the insidious thing about these forms of worship is not that they're evil or sinful, it's that they're unconscious. They are default settings.
They're the kind of worship you just gradually slip into, day after day, getting more and more selective about what you see and how you measure value without ever being fully aware that that's what you're doing.
And the so-called real world will not discourage you from operating on your default settings, because the so-called real world of men and money and power hums merrily along in a pool of fear and anger and frustration and craving and worship of self. Our own present culture has harnessed these forces in ways that have yielded extraordinary wealth and comfort and personal freedom. The freedom all to be lords of our tiny skull-sized kingdoms, alone at the center of all creation. This kind of freedom has much to recommend it. But of course there are all different kinds of freedom, and the kind that is most precious you will not hear much talk about much in the great outside world of wanting and achieving and [unintelligible -- sounds like "displayal"]. The really important kind of freedom involves attention and awareness and discipline, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day.
That is real freedom. That is being educated, and understanding how to think. The alternative is unconsciousness, the default setting, the rat race, the constant gnawing sense of having had, and lost, some infinite thing.
