Beginnings
I cannot take satisfaction from the traditional use of livejournal. I am unable to speak about myself because I fear it is not very interesting. So much of my life is lived outside the realm of what some call reality I am afraid people will be unable to relate. It would be naive of me to believe however, that none of you are familiar with the ways of the illusive realm of the imagination. I have searched for a way to convey that of which I speak, this quote is the best I could find:
Whenever something indefinable, something wonderful, is reached for with a sense of it being almost within the grasp, just beyond the fingertips, then the Other Country, filled with limitless possibilities has been glimpsed. Eternal happiness and unflawed contentment do not reign there, for it is restless---nor is it devoid of sorrow; but ecstasy that soars can be found there, and sweet joy.
It cannot be said for certain whether this estate is a condition of existence, or a region with definite or indefinite boundaries in which that condition can be achieved. And if the roads that do lead there from the outer world are not plain to see, there are inner roads, which go the same way. Some locate them easily; others never find them.
-Cecilia Dart Thornton
I write occasionally. I will endevour from this point on, to share my writings here, with all of you, my special friends.
This is my first entry. The stories you read here may never be completed, and follow no logical order.
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Chapter 1: The Beginnings
First there is nothing to speak of. It is neither a void, nor black, nor white. It is the moment before creation, before even the absence of anything exists. It is the space that a single thought in a human mind occupies even before it is conceived. The beginning is not anything to speak of either. It exists as much as the first subject does. Disconnected. Unreal. But it is still a beginning. And like any beginning, you are imagining it now, something new and fresh. Unpredictable. Pristine as the cold, crisp page before the ink soaks and swells the starched fibers. However, before I even begin this story, I must clear your misconception.
Beginnings are like endings. In the grand scheme of things, they are true brothers, facing inward, casting their proud gaze over all that lie between them, whether that be one mortal breath or an eternity of ages. We traverse our own allotted time, the journey between our beginning and our ending, unaware they work together in silent unison, carefully guiding us in a preconceived path. Beginnings and endings share the same mind. And beginnings and endings know the story before the story even begins.
It is also important to note, neither beginnings nor endings create the story. But they are as they are, and do what they do as they have always done, and will do for the rest of time. What mind devised this world that we live in? Who is guiding our destiny? As I spin these stories for you, I do perhaps what that divine entity does. Speak, create and ignore the dawdlings of men.
And I remember the days when we were young,
When me made plans and we danced in the sun.
All our dreams were vivid and true.
They remain, and they speak fondly of you.
Whenever something indefinable, something wonderful, is reached for with a sense of it being almost within the grasp, just beyond the fingertips, then the Other Country, filled with limitless possibilities has been glimpsed. Eternal happiness and unflawed contentment do not reign there, for it is restless---nor is it devoid of sorrow; but ecstasy that soars can be found there, and sweet joy.
It cannot be said for certain whether this estate is a condition of existence, or a region with definite or indefinite boundaries in which that condition can be achieved. And if the roads that do lead there from the outer world are not plain to see, there are inner roads, which go the same way. Some locate them easily; others never find them.
-Cecilia Dart Thornton
I write occasionally. I will endevour from this point on, to share my writings here, with all of you, my special friends.
This is my first entry. The stories you read here may never be completed, and follow no logical order.
--------------------------------------------
Chapter 1: The Beginnings
First there is nothing to speak of. It is neither a void, nor black, nor white. It is the moment before creation, before even the absence of anything exists. It is the space that a single thought in a human mind occupies even before it is conceived. The beginning is not anything to speak of either. It exists as much as the first subject does. Disconnected. Unreal. But it is still a beginning. And like any beginning, you are imagining it now, something new and fresh. Unpredictable. Pristine as the cold, crisp page before the ink soaks and swells the starched fibers. However, before I even begin this story, I must clear your misconception.
Beginnings are like endings. In the grand scheme of things, they are true brothers, facing inward, casting their proud gaze over all that lie between them, whether that be one mortal breath or an eternity of ages. We traverse our own allotted time, the journey between our beginning and our ending, unaware they work together in silent unison, carefully guiding us in a preconceived path. Beginnings and endings share the same mind. And beginnings and endings know the story before the story even begins.
It is also important to note, neither beginnings nor endings create the story. But they are as they are, and do what they do as they have always done, and will do for the rest of time. What mind devised this world that we live in? Who is guiding our destiny? As I spin these stories for you, I do perhaps what that divine entity does. Speak, create and ignore the dawdlings of men.
And I remember the days when we were young,
When me made plans and we danced in the sun.
All our dreams were vivid and true.
They remain, and they speak fondly of you.