“For what I seek is hope, a horizon for human destiny, for my own true self…”
4:31pm. That was 6 minutes ago, the official time of sunset. Dusk has made its home in the heavens.
8 hours, 17 minutes, and 45 seconds of daylight: the darkest day of the year.
“…I seek hope… that neither springs from nor ends in ideology…”
What do you do on the darkest day of the year? It’s been getting worse for a while. Colder. Darker. Long-term perspective gets clouded the immanent grey emanating from above, below, within, and without. Now the grey is gone; it’s just black.
It’s easy to believe when things are going well. It’s easy to love another when the sun is shining. But is that really belief? Is that really love? So contingent on the moments and contexts of its appearance, how is it not just a trick of the mind?
“…I seek hope… and yet for everything to be shaken that can be shaken, I must learn the place of these many things.”
A thousand questions may bounce through your head. There may be an evil genius at work. It may be the dreams of forgotten childhood. You may just be a pawn in someone else’s economic game. Thoughts go round and round, demanding tribute.
Are you going to volunteer?
The world stands before you, before me. We can go around carrying the weight of our fancy thoughts on our shoulders, but gosh that’s so hard. Wouldn’t it be better to let go? Doesn’t all that pressure hurt?
Letting your thoughts be shaken is not the end of the world. Maybe, in fact, it’s an entrance to it. You don’t have to do it alone. Hope can guide you through.
It’s dark outside. It hasn’t been darker. It won’t get darker. We’ve reached the edge, so good job people! Whether you like it or not, the light is coming.
Still Wandering,
Tony
“For what I seek is hope, a horizon for human destiny, for my own true self, that neither springs from nor ends in ideology, nor infantile desire, nor the machinations of means of production. And yet for everything to be shaken that can be shaken, I must learn the place of these many things.” – Dr. Steven D. Cone