Thanks for this dive. I am taken by the great literature that points us readers toward the ‘almost’ unknown. It seems to claim even the non-readers—everyone—can share this experience of diving. However, it is dangerous: a young soul can be driven insane by the chaotic depths as Moby Dick recounted. Nate, you must read Frost’s perfect poetic addendum to your essay: ‘For Once, Then, Something.’
Yes, Randy, the impulse to dive is never without its risk, and always chagrined and misunderstood by the immediate crowds. To dive is to be lonely. But to avoid the waters is to be hollow. The risk is ours to calculate. Frost's poem is an enigmatic gem to ever keep in one's pocket. The surface can really only reflect the viewer to itself: "Gives me back in a shining surface picture Me myself"
Thanks for this dive. I am taken by the great literature that points us readers toward the ‘almost’ unknown. It seems to claim even the non-readers—everyone—can share this experience of diving. However, it is dangerous: a young soul can be driven insane by the chaotic depths as Moby Dick recounted. Nate, you must read Frost’s perfect poetic addendum to your essay: ‘For Once, Then, Something.’
Yes, Randy, the impulse to dive is never without its risk, and always chagrined and misunderstood by the immediate crowds. To dive is to be lonely. But to avoid the waters is to be hollow. The risk is ours to calculate. Frost's poem is an enigmatic gem to ever keep in one's pocket. The surface can really only reflect the viewer to itself: "Gives me back in a shining surface picture Me myself"