Post by sandpaper on Dec 14, 2007 2:04:59 GMT -5
Hello everyone,
I hope this post finds everyone safe, healthy, and clean.
I am heading out of town tomorrow morning and will be gone for the next two weeks. For most of my trip, I will be staying with my grandmother who, bless her soul, does not even own a computer, much less have access to the Internet. So, it's doubtful I will have a chance to check in here. I wanted to head off any concerns that I had dropped off the board. I'll be back, for sure.
As for my parting thoughts, I'd like to post "Song of the Open Road," a poem by Walt Whitman (because it was published in 1856, there should be no copyrights concerns). I think recovery -- like life itself -- is a journey. Sometimes it's a lonely road, and other times we're surrounded by love. Sometimes the path ahead is clear, and other times we can't see 10 feet ahead. Sometimes we know full well what's around the bend, and other times we have no idea what we're about to face as we turn the corner. It's a journey full of ups and downs, highs and lows, pleasure and pain.
Whitman's poem focuses on the more positive moments along the way, or at least, on the more positive perspective one may choose to adopt, regardless of the nature of the actual circumstances. But, in the last paragraph, he acknowledges -- parenthetically -- the nature of the human condition: We all have burdens, which are part of us, like it or not. But we can free ourselves of the misery they inspire if we can see them for what they are:
"Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.
"The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.
(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return.)"
Have a wonderful holiday everyone, and fill your spirit with your true self.
Sandpaper
I hope this post finds everyone safe, healthy, and clean.
I am heading out of town tomorrow morning and will be gone for the next two weeks. For most of my trip, I will be staying with my grandmother who, bless her soul, does not even own a computer, much less have access to the Internet. So, it's doubtful I will have a chance to check in here. I wanted to head off any concerns that I had dropped off the board. I'll be back, for sure.
As for my parting thoughts, I'd like to post "Song of the Open Road," a poem by Walt Whitman (because it was published in 1856, there should be no copyrights concerns). I think recovery -- like life itself -- is a journey. Sometimes it's a lonely road, and other times we're surrounded by love. Sometimes the path ahead is clear, and other times we can't see 10 feet ahead. Sometimes we know full well what's around the bend, and other times we have no idea what we're about to face as we turn the corner. It's a journey full of ups and downs, highs and lows, pleasure and pain.
Whitman's poem focuses on the more positive moments along the way, or at least, on the more positive perspective one may choose to adopt, regardless of the nature of the actual circumstances. But, in the last paragraph, he acknowledges -- parenthetically -- the nature of the human condition: We all have burdens, which are part of us, like it or not. But we can free ourselves of the misery they inspire if we can see them for what they are:
"Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.
Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.
"The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.
(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return.)"
Have a wonderful holiday everyone, and fill your spirit with your true self.
Sandpaper
