“Dreams are illustrations... from the book your soul is writing about you.”
~ Marsha Norman
It was a gorgeous California weekend. The weather has been great. Warm, almost hot, during the day, but so nice and cool at night. I guess I really will miss this weather. I drive around in traffic some marveling at what has been done with the California freeways. So many cars - so many people. I've gotten used to things here. I've been spending much of the last few months picking on all that annoys me with California, but as I stand at the rubicon of my imminent departure, I find myself hesitant to cross . . .
It's all this damn existential angst . . . Was out at lunch the other day with John who mentioned his own struggles with the notion of meaning. The conversation got me thinking about my own "stuff" . . . Man is the only animal who actually questions his own existence and seeks to find meaning therein. What's that all about? Interestingly enough, Nietzsche eventually comes to the conclusion that man needs to find his own meaning. Even the atheists recognize the need for meaning. What does my life mean? I am a father, a husband, a physician, but someday perhaps a real healer? Why not. It seems that meaning will be found in relationships. Everything is connected . . . right?
Whatever. It's a 1st attempt . . .
(needs work)
2 comments:
It's funny how transitions in life give us the impression of freedom, when really we're on a singular track of becoming our true selves.
Keep posting...
Hey, kick your last-day-in-California's ass. And then get yours the heck out.
Good luck, buddy.
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