Somewhere a little past the apogee of your life's parabola, you might look down.
Its a good thing we begin life as children: they start to climb a tree because they don't know how scary it is going to be coming down. Ambitions still bubble up constantly in my mind but virtually none of them make it past my sketchbooks. Of the few works I now look back on with satisfaction, I see their great inaugural blessing was that I did not know it couldn't be done or was a way of thorns and hard climbing. When I see my sketch books as a black hole for ideas, I wonder if my station of the moment on the parabola is the place where you fear a full life is just a process of outgrowing everything.
No, its not that bleak. The few times I did commit to getting what I wanted turned out to be campaigns scuffed and dented but ultimately just matters of getting what I needed the hardest way possible. In the wake of these surges that I only now examine, there are newly raised citizens, houses built, bits of employment and provisions scattered all about and generally, the world a bit more worn and occupied. I was not equipped to analyse or doubt my desires back then and I would not urge anyone to develop that analytical skill prematurely. Now I look closely at desire and it vanishes like a little fog before the warm sun. Can detatchment go too far? Can the yetzer hara be held too close? Something has to turn the wheels.
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