“You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken.” ___ Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1
At first it's too much, too fast: growing, studying, wondering, people, coping, driving, working, driving, working, settling, moving, constant adjusting to the new.
Now there are places I would like to be maybe for a few days, but I don't wish to go there. (Be, not go -- kinda like the hot springs)
Now I have time to discover if, in fact, the only drum solo Ringo ever did was on side 2 of Abbey Road? And to wonder how long the old barns will last?
And wait for the next surprise!
Or as Wordsworth would have it:
"Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain-winds be free
To blow against thee: and, in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,
Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me"
--------------- excerpt from "Tintern Abbey"
