Saturday, July 9, 2011


Suspecting that last night’s rain had probably muddied the path of my back-entrance into the park, I opted to drive around via the main highway, starting my daily three mile walk, on this occasion from the south end. My wristwatch determined the distance covered, it being the only option now for gauging my usual accomplishment, circling the soccer field to the north my only choice of putting mileage beneath my feet. If the route sufficed for a temporary substitute, though, it in no way encouraged me to think of it in the future, the fourth time around that elongated oval making me feel like a caged hamster inside one of those wheels, burning energy, but going nowhere….Between my perusal of Ayn Rand and Ravi Zacharias , thus far, my thoughts for tomorrow morning’s visit to the Detention Center are occupied with a man’s life possessing purpose. One of the main characters in “Atlas Shrugged” considered that all she needed was motion, no matter how small or in what form, the sense of an activity going step by step to some chosen finale across a span of time, for no day to die behind her, each containing all those preceding it and acquiring its immortality on every succeeding tomorrow, the inanimate universe knowing orbital existence, but man being set in a straight line of geometrical abstraction. Her problem, in my opinion, was in seeing it all achieved solely out of her own will, her own abilities. If we have no point of anchorage, no source of continual genesis, we just become dead men walking, chasing our own dreams, our own wills, and gradually being exhausted by the truth of our own humanity…...

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