Sublime

To find a manner of anonymity, to experience that dreadful thing we call “blending in,” can be a kind of haven. It is not to become untethered but to become a part of. To walk a street apprehending you are one small refrain in a holy cacophony, and as the place becomes more familiar, your own selfhood becomes more lucid.

Through your daily round, you seek to approximate the truth of who you are that you have lost touch with. This drama of approximation is the story of your life. You never quite succeed like you hope to.

As in a voyage, when the ship is at anchor, if you go on shore to get water, you may amuse yourself with picking up a shellfish or a truffle in your way, but your thoughts ought to be bent toward the ship, and perpetually attentive, lest the captain should call, and then you must leave all these things, that you may not have to be carried on board

Someone asked once, “What is love?” “Be lost in me,” I said.

mas, como deveriam encontrar uma saída a partir de si mesmos, das profundezas de sua solidão já abalada, eles que se ajuntaram, sem colocar limites, nem se diferenciar, e que portanto não possuem mais nada de próprio?

Who are you that is lost and trying to build a concept of yourself in order to be found? This question represents the essence of spirituality. You will never find yourself in what you have built to define yourself.