My struggle has been in finding that realm again, that I had when I was 15 and in love. First love. Life. The one everyone else gave up on at the first touch of pressure. After adolescence. Betrayed it.
I sit by myself at Christmas…thankful for many things, for being in a warm house and near a lit tree And wonder what dreams are made of, old hat, something of a dead horse after its fifteenth beating.
Nevertheless, I still revel in Joseph Campbell’s call to action: Life as that which seeks bliss. Your bliss. Utter bliss, as the point of life. Later Asimov, McLuhan, and finally, Rand sealed that line of vigilant individualists. Including MM.
Nevertheless, every time I enter a shopping mall or whiff that corporate scent of well, nothing more or less than what I grew up on–I revel in that sense of divine intervention of a secular method, the notion that most things are possible.
But I have finally found it again, that peace with the world enough that at least I have my own piece cut out. That part of the brain that tells you, “Yes, indeed, you are doing something right.” That something, is something I would like to call Philosophy. So, thank you philosophy. Thank you thinkers and ideas. That is what has brought me to a fourth bliss. The only romantics left are rock stars and soap commercials.