Through discipline comes freedom.
— Aristotle
Ruminations
Thoughts in passing
What and how much had I lost by trying to do only
what was expected of me instead of what I myself had wished to do?
Nothing is more wonderful than the art of being free,
but nothing is harder to learn how to use than freedom.
So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart.
Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view and demand that they respect yours.
Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life.
Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people.
Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.
Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place, when in a crowd.
Show respect to all people and grovel to none.
When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living.
If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies in yourself.
Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.
When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death,
so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way.
Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.
The greatest happiness of life is the conviction
that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather,
loved in spite of ourselves.
But how could you live your whole life
without a story to tell?
Old man, did you find what you were looking for?
The Old man sighed, 'No, it has eluded me.'
'How regrettable! You spent your whole life searching for it.'
The Old man replied softly, 'Young man, the end has always been clear to me.
It was the journey I sought.'
Intestinal Fortitude--
Do they see?
Tired hands held tight
Holding shamefully the bowels of burden,
One false step
A great exodus of Suffering.
Do they see
The chains that bind
Unseen but for the raw and the chaffed
One feeble step
Reveals the ridges and the grooves
Which then begin to spill.
Frantically, maddeningly,
Hand over hand working against
the bloody deluge
Until exhaustion reveals a grotesque and
most desperate picture.
A silent bell
That rings in anguish,
With only tired hands held tight
As my salvation.