I’ve logged more experience than most with simplicity and the complexity you discover inside simplicity, minimalism and asocial behavior, endurance and landscape.
Here is the truth: I think some deep wisdom inside me (a) sensed the stress, (b) was terrified for me, and (c) gave me something new and hard to focus on in order to prevent me from lapsing into a despair coma — and also to keep me from having a jelly jar of wine in my hand.
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On those cold, clear winter mornings, I rise in the dark, and I sit
beneath a lamp with a pen and paper in a circle of light
barely bright enough for the work. The window beside me is black
and blank, and soon I’m staring only through the window of the page
at whatever I’m drawing from ink and concentration. Hours pass,
and, always when I least expect it, there’s a sudden tide of light
as the sun crests the mountain. When the first rays flood the fields,
the thin yellow curtain behind me brightens, and the room swells
with light. Everything is suddenly golden and illuminated,
and for just that one moment, I make the glorious and forgivable
mistake of thinking it has something to do with me.
Eric Paul Shaffer