Water...

Just this morning I finished my first reading of "Fear and Trembling".  It took me some time to get through.  I read it in conjunction to some thoughts that a more modern author published about Kierkegaard.  Earnest Becker makes quite a lot of Kierkegaard in his "The Denial of Death".  I'm not sure what this says of Kierkegaard or of Becker or me for reading.  I stumbled on Becker via Irvin Yalum's "Staring at the Sun".  I see life much as Yalum portrays, at least what I can understand of reading his writings.  I am not sorry I took the time to read this work. Not sure what I think exactly of "Fear and Trembling".  I used to be a Christian.  Revisiting my "old love" has it's own life.  I still abhor child-sacrifice, something I never saw as prevalent in the Bible when I was a believer.  It's in there though, more frequently than I would have ever admitted along with many other immoralities.  So Kierkegaard...

I close my eyes . . . what do I see?  At first it's blackness.  Then a moment of thoughtfulness.  Images emerge.  Some vivid images of peaceful spaces.  Imagination plays with settings that seem to be the perfect essence of joy and fulfillment. There is the edge of consciousness that seems hazy...peer there and something seems to emerge hazily.  A flitting image.  Observe.  Stand still.  I hear a robin to the left.  I smell the scent of some wild mountain flower.  A bee buzzes behind me.  Warm light over-head shines down on my perception of this personage I call: me.  The illusion is real, with breeze, gurgling brook faintly titillating in the background.  The words rise and fall in my mind. Grass sways, there are a million stimuli, and I sit . . . eyes closed, imagination creating, painting, creating. I think in the saner moments of life, there is a  whole lot of creativity emerging.  I'm curious...