Wednesday, September 14, 2005


September 14, 2005
10:46 AM

I’ve entered the murk again.

Yes, “murk.”

If a pond can be murky,
there must be something called
murk which obscures vision.

Don’t bother looking it up.
I’ll coin the term if it doesn’t
already exist.

I have entered it again.

I’ve been here countless times
before: Delved to the core, seen
the light break through, reveled in
illusions of the finish line in sight.

There is no finish line.

There is only learning to live with
who I’ve become and how I’ve coped.

So it starts again.

Once more I must learn to cope,
though this time there’s

Survival is not the ultimate ideal.

Rather than simply
drawing breath;
taking steps;
swallowing food;
smiling blankly when it’s expected,
I must learn to

breathe deliberately and
appreciate sensations of
oxygen filling my lungs, my blood;
I must learn to

crawl, walk,
run for the first time, and
feel the exhilaration of speed,
wind in my hair,
barefoot on a sylvan lea;
I must learn to

feed myself…
meet my needs for
nourishment of soul and body,
and realize the efficacy of such things;
I must learn to

smile because I cannot help it,
laugh because life is delightful,
because I am delighted at
the gifts of


I must learn to live
in the midst of the murk,
in murky places.

And so it begins.

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George MacDonald

"Home is ever so far away in the palm of your hand, and how to get there it is of no use to tell you. But you will get there; you must get there; you have to get there. Everybody who is not at home, has to go home."

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