As rare as unwrapping a new pyramid from the sands of Egypt is the frequency of exposing a true pleasure unattached to a coupling vice or irritation. It is the humor of a paradoxical God.
I have not had any overwhelming dispositions or inimical argumentation that have sweet-talked this conversation out of its dank cave; it is merely a law I've observed from afar and all too near. Allow me to explicate with anecdotes stumbling from my own hamartia.
As I denoted in yesterday's post, sloth torments my ability to prepare for public speaking engagements. Yet, God swoops in to save the day. The information falling out of my laughing mouth lay bare fantastic insight to the corners of life we cover our eyes to search for. However, the insight, erred and marred by lack of preparation, sinks in the muck when designed for the green pasture. Though my introduction was posted as revolutionary to the ears of a early adolescent, it only smashes with impact when delivered with emphatic pizzazz. This zeal turns and nonchalantly strolls whistling away from my stage presence.
You won't get my brain without the body. Beethoven composing in the ear of deafness. Valiant athleticism personified in the limbs of a 5' foot 7 inch frame. A most well spoken mind captured in a crippled voice box. The greatest romantic commitments made oceans apart. Full knowledge married to unresponsive forgetfulness. Ghandi's commitment notions to Christianity (not quite, but close). The culmination of millennia of prophesy scuffling as a derelict freeloader and mooch. But who could change it? Who would change it? The good must be adjoined to the bad and the ugly. The keys to the Kingdom cost more than everything you ever wanted, and that is never the same requisite for any two people (I feel your sorrow, rich young ruler).
But God. If these inherit and inerrant truths falter, where would we rest*? Ask George. That old Herbert knows me too well.
*THE PULLEY.
WHEN God at first made man,
Having a glasse of blessings standing by ;
Let us (said he) poure on him all we can :
Let the worlds riches, which dispersed lie,
Contract into a span.
So strength first made a way ;
Then beautie flow’d, then wisdome, honour, pleasure :
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that alone, of all his treasure,
Rest in the bottome lay.
For if I should (said he)
Bestow this jewell also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts in stead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature :
So both should losers be.
Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlesnesse :
Let him be rich and wearie, that at least,
If goodnesse leade him not, yet wearinesse
May tosse him to my breast.
Postal Script to Mother and Angie: Return to The Perfect Crash and Burn Stop I left you a follow up comment Stop There you will find your only solace Stop Christmas is around the corner Stop
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