You would be entirely within your rights to say, “What took you so long.” I wasn’t on the trail, wasn’t ill, wasn’t occupied with something vital and urgent. What gives? I’ll try and tell you what took me so long. But it took me a while to figure out.
Maybe I Do Not Know
That’s what I thought for a while. But when I was honest, what I was thinking was, “Why bother?” My interest in writing this is very low. I could blame it on a phenomenon called, “the dark night of the soul” which many a mystic and saint encountered. I am not there, but then again I am no saint or mystic.
But there is something to this. The reason there have been no posts for a month is that there is nothing new to say. I look back and think, “well, I said that before.” Repeating myself seems rather pointless. And pointless is pretty much how ‘the dark night of the soul’ feels.
Maybe That was Why I am a Poor Politician
In 2018 I ventured into politics, losing my primary. I continued to campiagn for others and found myself at many rallies and such. At each one I heard the same people saying the same things, over and over. Walking up to one of the candidates, a successful one as it turned out, I said “Don’t you ever get tired of saying the same thing?” To which she replied, “I am boring myself to death.”
And we wonder why our politics is so awful. But my topic is not politics.
At some point we have said all that can be said about something, and at that point the wise person stops. As someone who aspires to wisdom, this began to make sense.
Maybe I am Done Here
In all honesty I have said about as much as I can. What remains can only by learned by doing. But it would be wrong for me to just quit and not wrap things up. So, I will give you a summary – the things that make you a pilgrim and not nomad or sightseer or chameleon. Once you have that, the rest is up to you. Do it or not. Saying it all again will not change you.
Therefore, I will write five more posts, each one about what it takes to be a pilgrim. Once I have done that I will be done. My reluctance to recognize this was what took me so long. After all, there is an ego that loves to be read, to be a writer, to have a role in the world. Yet, if I am honest, my reluctance to write is telling me something. Pay attention to that, I finally said.
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