You know I love your writing and this really struck a chord with me. In my youth, I think I drove my family crazy with my wanderlust. They didn’t think I would ever settle down. Even when I had kids I, too, moved them all over the place. My sister once gave me a poem, though, a long time ago that helped tremendously. To this day I still keep a copy of it on my desk at work to remind me. It holds much the same lesson that you conclude with in this article, and I would like to share it with you…
The Journeying
There was a time I seemed to sail upon a vast, blue sea,
Scanning the horizon for some distant, golden shore,
Imagining that happiness lay just ahead of me,
In some wondrous perfect place I'd never seen before…
But as the days and years passed by,
I came to comprehend
That the joy is in the journeying,
Not at the journey's end.
I think I’ve finally settled down now but years ago I did learn how to be happy where I was, wherever I was, and I wish the same for you, my friend.
Mid-way through I was really hoping you'd wind up where you ended. We daughters and sons of immigrants sometimes have forebears who draw a line in the pond and make a total disconnect from where they came from and go all in on the idea of sinking new roots. Later generations sometimes wish for a bit more detail, more stories and memories of the old country, but there are none, or at least none that the immigrants chose to hand on. We are strange kinds of transplants wishing to establish ourselves among the natives, or at least those longer established than we, burdening ourselves with the unanswered and unanswerable question 'who were we' thinking it would help us know who we are now. We need to instead to expand our vision, learning from the new natural science of the forest (thinking of Wohlleben's work) and learn that there's so much more to see, that we'll better understand by looking for the process, the relationships, not just the atoms.
Just starting Makoto Fujimura's book, Art+Faith. It's a book about making. I have gone about as far as I wish to as homo sapiens. I feel strangely attracted, lured by the roles of homo faber and homo ludens now entering my extended dotage, my second half of life. Don't want to get all theological on you, so will just say it seems like if we thought about offering good news in these idioms maybe a world with no need or place for transsubstantiation (maybe the Church's real trans problem?) could engage with making and celebrating. Pax et bonum.
You know I love your writing and this really struck a chord with me. In my youth, I think I drove my family crazy with my wanderlust. They didn’t think I would ever settle down. Even when I had kids I, too, moved them all over the place. My sister once gave me a poem, though, a long time ago that helped tremendously. To this day I still keep a copy of it on my desk at work to remind me. It holds much the same lesson that you conclude with in this article, and I would like to share it with you…
The Journeying
There was a time I seemed to sail upon a vast, blue sea,
Scanning the horizon for some distant, golden shore,
Imagining that happiness lay just ahead of me,
In some wondrous perfect place I'd never seen before…
But as the days and years passed by,
I came to comprehend
That the joy is in the journeying,
Not at the journey's end.
I think I’ve finally settled down now but years ago I did learn how to be happy where I was, wherever I was, and I wish the same for you, my friend.
Lana
Mid-way through I was really hoping you'd wind up where you ended. We daughters and sons of immigrants sometimes have forebears who draw a line in the pond and make a total disconnect from where they came from and go all in on the idea of sinking new roots. Later generations sometimes wish for a bit more detail, more stories and memories of the old country, but there are none, or at least none that the immigrants chose to hand on. We are strange kinds of transplants wishing to establish ourselves among the natives, or at least those longer established than we, burdening ourselves with the unanswered and unanswerable question 'who were we' thinking it would help us know who we are now. We need to instead to expand our vision, learning from the new natural science of the forest (thinking of Wohlleben's work) and learn that there's so much more to see, that we'll better understand by looking for the process, the relationships, not just the atoms.
Just starting Makoto Fujimura's book, Art+Faith. It's a book about making. I have gone about as far as I wish to as homo sapiens. I feel strangely attracted, lured by the roles of homo faber and homo ludens now entering my extended dotage, my second half of life. Don't want to get all theological on you, so will just say it seems like if we thought about offering good news in these idioms maybe a world with no need or place for transsubstantiation (maybe the Church's real trans problem?) could engage with making and celebrating. Pax et bonum.