Time was when man had a heaven, decked and fitted out with endless wealth of thoughts and pictures. The significance of all that is, lay in the thread of light by which it was attached to heaven; instead of dwelling in the present as it is here and now, the eye glanced away over the present to the Divine, away, so to say, to a present that lies beyond. The mind’s gaze had to be directed under compulsion to what is earthly, and kept fixed there; and it has needed a long time to introduce that clearness, which only celestial realities had, into the crassness and confusion shrouding the sense of things earthly, and to make attention to the immediate present as such, which was called Experience, of interest and of value. Now we have apparently the opposite of all this; man’s mind and interest are so deeply rooted in the earthly that we require a like power to have them raised above that level. His spirit shows such poverty of nature that it seems to long for the mere pitiful feeling of the divine in the abstract, and to get refreshment from that, like a wanderer in the desert craving for the merest mouthful of water. By the little which can thus satisfy the needs of the human spirit we can measure the extent of its loss.
Time was, indeed! O for the unreachable and perfect past! That Hegel... I don't know that lamenting the loss is much in the way of comfort. Why is it that the smallest lack is so keenly felt while the greatest abundance can be completely discounted? Perhaps negative power is indeed the superior. Or at least the more efficient (discounting the argument that the smallest amount of light completely dispells total darkness). Perhaps God is a gray man and wants everythng to be indistinct and fuzzy. Or perhaps God has just moved out of the neighborhood and is seeking greener pastures.
Hey baby, god belives in YOU say the Christians. Without the baby part. O Brother.
I am stirred somewhat by the challenge of my current fiscal situation but I know that at the end of it at best all I will have produced will be a small pile of money. And dear lord another year is gone. I must remember that I am still but three years into my five-year allotment to try to liberate myself from having to work at shit I didn't like. Ambitious, I suppose. I have taken some time away from it, but having not achieved the goal I can hardly but dwell upon it even at rest. I have been occasionally writing poems, but they come out like I had spiritual stomach flu.
AH well, I have a wonderful wife (glad to see her back after what has been a damn-near six month absense) and a charming kid. And it's back to the first question, the one about lacks.