Today when I sat down with the ancestors, I started to get this mad little bug to tidy. That isn’t particularly surprising–the ancestors tend to like tidiness. But I found myself grabbing hold of this box that I have been carrying around for a few years without opening. As I finished sorting through it, I widened my efforts to its immediate neighbors.
That is when I came across the notebook that I thought lost. I can’t date it precisely, but it is from my first few years of college back in the mid-1990s. My best guess puts it somewhere in the 1995-1996 range. I had started it as a supplement to a philosophy course I was taking, but it became something very different the summer afterward.
Been thinking (as a note, the semester is over—the notebook was of limited usage)—seems that in much of the writings here I approached the thinkers in a far too confrontational manner; not only is this not useful (one does not water orchids with boiling water), but it is really antithetical to who I am. The attitude puts me outside myself, taking my ability to absorb and contemplate. Remember this.
Oh, yes, hello crazy little me. Whew, why did you think the academy was a good idea again?