More Brilliance from TWOP's Jacob
"Fear and faith follow the same pathways in the mind, the road called awe: something you can't see yet, vastly bigger than you but able to see you, like a mustard seed, like the sparrow."
This is me, now: I feel like I've failed to return to the human race after my last illness. I feel like I never really hooked up the cords right, flicked all the right switches, and I'm just...not grounded right now, particularly with regard to human interaction right now. When the phone rings, I cringe. When hailed by a colleague that I like, even, I feel a sense of panic. I am scared to be human, to be engaged, to be anywhere but home, but Home.
Jacob brilliance: "'free will scuttles in the swamp of fear' because fear, unlike faith, keeps you from moving, it's paralysis. It takes away your options. The word is 'harbinger,' but the word is also 'death': do not fear the word. Don't let the word take away your options before you know the whole story yet. Free will dies in the swamp of fear, and doesn't rise again. When the angel comes to rob you of your home, it's only because it was never yours: either sit there in the wreckage, like in Hera's dream, or take a look at the ground you're standing on, and the people you're standing with. When you're struck still, you lose what little power you have, but when you move? You see things in different ways. That's the only home -- the only view -- we get to keep."
Here: why are there things that worry me, distress me, violate the fragile peace I find day to day, and then there are things that should worry me that don't?
...Keep looking, keep looking for somewhere to be....
Inveterate: my love for Home, for the Holy City. It's driving me again, hungry.
"For a moment of night we have a glimpse of ourselves and of our world islanded in its stream of stars -- pilgrims of mortality, voyaging between horizons across eternal seas of space and time." -- Henry Beston, The Outermost House
What am I grieving for?
Jacob: "Not everything is fire and explosions and cramps all the time: sometimes you just let it go, and it hurts in a new way, a quiet way. It doesn't always have to hurt for us to learn..."
...
"A closed system lacks the ability to renew itself; knowledge alone is a poor primer. It takes an angel to push you over the edge, sometimes..."
...
"if you're looking for patterns, that's both computation and intuition."
...
"Change feels like dying because it is, right, but the opposite is true: if it doesn't feel like dying, it isn't change."
I'm so tired, y'all. My bones hurt, and the days are so long, but the nights too short. Maybe a long time on the Road, with the Captain, will create something good. Maybe I can forget this little life here, for a while, where it hurts. Maybe I can go pretend to be somebody else for a while, somewhere else.
...I need to leave work soon, go home and get the Captain's dinner, bring it back. Go home and convince myself to eat, even from this pit. I'm just...so damn tired. This is the price of mania: something akin to despair. It's akin to it, but not purely. God, I'm...mortally tired.
This is me, now: I feel like I've failed to return to the human race after my last illness. I feel like I never really hooked up the cords right, flicked all the right switches, and I'm just...not grounded right now, particularly with regard to human interaction right now. When the phone rings, I cringe. When hailed by a colleague that I like, even, I feel a sense of panic. I am scared to be human, to be engaged, to be anywhere but home, but Home.
Jacob brilliance: "'free will scuttles in the swamp of fear' because fear, unlike faith, keeps you from moving, it's paralysis. It takes away your options. The word is 'harbinger,' but the word is also 'death': do not fear the word. Don't let the word take away your options before you know the whole story yet. Free will dies in the swamp of fear, and doesn't rise again. When the angel comes to rob you of your home, it's only because it was never yours: either sit there in the wreckage, like in Hera's dream, or take a look at the ground you're standing on, and the people you're standing with. When you're struck still, you lose what little power you have, but when you move? You see things in different ways. That's the only home -- the only view -- we get to keep."
Here: why are there things that worry me, distress me, violate the fragile peace I find day to day, and then there are things that should worry me that don't?
...Keep looking, keep looking for somewhere to be....
Inveterate: my love for Home, for the Holy City. It's driving me again, hungry.
"For a moment of night we have a glimpse of ourselves and of our world islanded in its stream of stars -- pilgrims of mortality, voyaging between horizons across eternal seas of space and time." -- Henry Beston, The Outermost House
What am I grieving for?
Jacob: "Not everything is fire and explosions and cramps all the time: sometimes you just let it go, and it hurts in a new way, a quiet way. It doesn't always have to hurt for us to learn..."
...
"A closed system lacks the ability to renew itself; knowledge alone is a poor primer. It takes an angel to push you over the edge, sometimes..."
...
"if you're looking for patterns, that's both computation and intuition."
...
"Change feels like dying because it is, right, but the opposite is true: if it doesn't feel like dying, it isn't change."
I'm so tired, y'all. My bones hurt, and the days are so long, but the nights too short. Maybe a long time on the Road, with the Captain, will create something good. Maybe I can forget this little life here, for a while, where it hurts. Maybe I can go pretend to be somebody else for a while, somewhere else.
...I need to leave work soon, go home and get the Captain's dinner, bring it back. Go home and convince myself to eat, even from this pit. I'm just...so damn tired. This is the price of mania: something akin to despair. It's akin to it, but not purely. God, I'm...mortally tired.