Brecht is 'the Man'

The worm has turned again...

A cool blast of air this morning, there's the crisp, clear, feel of autumn. The sun hasn't peeked over the horizon yet, it is as dark as midnight.

Yesterday I was on a strange ride...

I envision myself as the 'optimistic realist,' (see Bertolt Brecht) in a land of doomsayers and fatalists. This optimism doesn't wear well with those who have found refuge cloaked in a dark, cynical, pessimism.

The optimistic part: life is good. There is a mystery, a beauty, that is ultimately unknowable. This 'not knowing' is not a failure, but a gift.

The realist part: life is suffering. There is turmoil and trouble everywhere. There are 'dark forces' in the world. One must be able to see the world with clarity. It is a hard, pitiless, paradise.

One must work to become 'authentic,' not the 'happy idiot,' not 'the Great Pretender,' the pretense of happiness is just another rabbit hole. Also, one must give up the idea of having 'others' see the world as we do. One man, one vision. We find our common humanity by being totally, absolutely ourselves: a unique manifestation of energy in a roiling sea of energy.