It sticks like the glue of perspiration in a sun-kissed, humid country. You could flag a frail finger out and touch it in the stagnant air. The lingering putrid odour of a wild beast that you do not wish to encounter in a dark confusing jungle. It is palpable. The scent of war. To those… Continue reading In Troubled Times
Does each one of us have a defined purpose, a higher calling, to seek out and serve in this life ? The philosophers (the existentialists, absurdists and nihilists) would say No; the mystics and the spiritualists would say Yes. What is your answer? I would love to know what you all think!
If fate is conquered by tears, let us muster them to shed; let every day pass amid grief, let sleepless melancholy consume the night...if it will serve our purpose, let grief practice every kind of savagery. But if no amount of wailing recalls the dead, if all distress is powerless to alter a fate that… Continue reading Seneca on Grief and the Human Condition V1.0