From Sunrise to Sunset: Poetry of My Lifetime
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Everyone I've ever loved is dead, and my leg hurts all the bloody time But I think, any God that can do sunsets like that, a different one every night That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time.
That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals. That a day spent with dreaming and sunsets and refreshing breezes cannot be bettered. But Oscar Wilde was wrong; we can pay for sunsets. We can pay for them by not being Oscar Wilde. It was beautiful deception, Bosch thought, as he drove north on the Hollywood Freeway to home.
Sunsets did that here. Made you forget it was the smog that made their colors so brilliant, that behind every pretty picture there could be an ugly story. The conclusion is inescapable, that to be in the presence of even the meanest, lowest, most repulsive specimen of humanity of the world is still to be closer to God than when looking up into a starry sky or at a beautiful sunset.
Certainly that is why there is nothing in the new testament about beautiful sunsets. Let the people miss you! And this is what the sun does with the sunset! To his surprise, he managed to catch a branch which stopped his fall.
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He remained clinging to it, in misery, for hours. But finally, his fingers let loose their hold, and with a despairing farewell to life, he let himself drop. The man in this story, because he was unable to see, had clung to the mistaken idea, that there is a way to hold off the inevitable. What he was unable to appreciate under the circumstances, was just what that inevitable event might hold for him. Had he given up the struggle earlier, his agony would have been spared. We cling to life in a completely understandable human way most of our lives, suffering terribly when it is lost too soon, and sometimes despair even when it dwindles slowly in the latter part of a long and fruitful life.
There is no magic formula for coming to terms with the many varieties of loss we can experience in our lives, but eventually, as difficult as it is, we must find a way to move forward, as best we can, until the sorrow fades.
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Recently, on the way home from a long week at work, I was so struck by the setting sun in the sky that I had to pull over and snap a photo of it. What appeared to be a long swath of darkness was actually receding to the left, leaving the startlingly beautiful panorama on the right, and it occurred to me while I was standing there staring at the sight, that what has felt like a long swath of darkness in my personal life, needed to be viewed as receding as well. We are born into this life in a miraculous awakening that holds an infinite variety of possibilities, not all of which are filled with light and joy, but it is rather a sequence from the realm of infinite possibilities that transpires over a lifetime, no matter how long or how short that lifetime may be.
As I stood alone on that remote highway, staring off into the sunset, I was struck by both the beauty and the majesty of existence, as well as by the painful realization of having endured a swath of sadness, neither of which could be viewed in the same way, never having stood on the edge of darkness, or clung to a branch in despair, or having endured the changing seasons of life. Our gift of life, embodied in the sunrise and sunset, promises only to illuminate the path of possibility, but it does not direct it.
The path of discovery has led me through an astonishingly diverse range of explorations in philosophy, science, and religion, as well as the many compelling ideas in the literature and scriptures of the cultures of the world. There is, in my view, a compelling thread made up of components of each, that runs through the fabric of life.
The nature and study of human consciousness has been a compelling subject for me for more than twenty years. I am only just beginning to feel confident enough in the results of my study and contemplation to express the many various aspects of what I have uncovered within myself. In deep sleep there is only Ananda experienced by Chit.
You experience Satchidananda, here, Consciousness-Being, as such. But something else happens there, a very intriguing factor starts working, which covers the consciousness, and makes you come back to the waking life with the same foolishness with which you entered the state of sleep. It was easy to disdain the dictates of youthful beauty when she was young herself, she candidly notes.
It is rather less so now that she feels more likely to be ignored. Even now only men appear to be allowed to age on screen; though getting older is no picnic for men either, even if medical remedies such as Viagra have mitigated some anxieties about sexual humiliation. Old age often brings loneliness and sadness, but also a greater appreciation of the transience of all things—a thought that can be moving, not just depressing.
In her search for a meaningful way forward, Ms Segal finds inspiration in the words of Simone de Beauvoir. At 55 the French writer complained of feeling marginalised and undesirable, while her frail paramour Jean-Paul Sartre enjoyed the admiration of young, beautiful women. But ten years later she was revived with a new love—for a much younger woman—and a new political vitality. This may well be the secret to enjoying life at any age. Join them. Subscribe to The Economist today. Media Audio edition Economist Films Podcasts. New to The Economist? Sign up now Activate your digital subscription Manage your subscription Renew your subscription.
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