The Sublime Roundabout

Some experiences are just too sacred and personal to share. So why am I blogging this if I'm not going to share? I just wanted to make the point that these things are real. It's not that I have nothing to share, it's that the nature of the thing is just to intensely personal, too sacred, too amazing to verbalize. It's much like the love you share with your spouse or your children. It's the feeling you have on those special occasions when your soul reaches the Infinite. It's the sublime realization of your own position relative to the Divine. And it's the acknowledgement of the divine within your own heart. These experiences come frequently to me now. I relish them and I thrill at the opportunity. I am alive and I am humbled. Life is good. And may God continue to grant me one more day to be better. May His patience and love temper my mistakes and make me a better person. May I ever seek to share this love with others.

I'm sad today. It's OK; it's just my turn to be sad. I don't get sad frequently. I am disappointed frequently, but just as frequently (or perhaps even more so) I find myself joining in someone's celebrations. So there's a balance there... But today I'm sad. And hopefully in a little less than a year's time I'll be happy (in this aspect of my life) once again.

I don't know why, but I really enjoy Russian literature. I can be forgiven of this, perhaps, because of the popularity of this kind of literature over the years. I have yet to involve myself with Pushkin, however, knowing that he's the most famous and venerated of Russian authors, particularly in Russia itself. But among my favorites (and I have several) Dostoevsky shines brilliantly, not only for his actual work, but more particularly for his philosophy. For some reason, western authors do not touch my soul as these Russian authors do. There's a resonance there, pensive, melancholy, dark, that I share. They are serious authors writing without evasion about important topics. The only western author I'm aware of that comes close is Hugo. I am reading a couple of books by Dostoevsky - Crime and Punishment I started and got about 1/2 way through before getting distracted, but I fully anticipate picking back up again; and The Brothers Karamazov. This second tome promises to...