.::still blinking::.

The true harvest of my daily life is somewhat as intangible and indescribably as the things of morning or evening. It is a little star-dust caught, a segment of the rainbow which I have clutched. Henry David Thoreau, Walden or Life in the Woods

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Everything had changed suddenly&#9830the tone, the moral climate; you didn’t know what to think, whom to listen to. As if all your life you had been led by the hand like a small child and suddenly you were on your own, you had to learn to walk by yourself. There was no one around, neither family nor people whose judgment you respected. At such a time you felt the need of committing yourself to something absolute&#9830life or truth or beauty&#9830of bing ruled by it in place of the man-made rules that has been discarded. You needed to surrender to some such ultimate purpose more fully, more unreservedly than you had ever don in the old familiar, peaceful day, in the old life that was not abolished and gone for good. Boris Pasternak, Doctor Zhivago

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Rather than love, than money, than fame, give me truth. I sat at a table where were rich food and wine in abundance, and obsequious attendance, but sincerity and truth were not; and I went away hungry from the inhospitably board. The hospitality was as cold as the ices. Henry David Thoreau, Walden or Life in the Woods

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I just finished Into the Wildas recommended by Annie. It is the story of the life and death of Chris McCandless. I don’t know why this appealed to me. It was truly fascinating, though I never could see myself hitchhiking around the country and depending on the kindness of strangers. However, I did understand his search for something more. I understand the hunger to find the true depth and strength of my spirit and character. I struggle daily to be even close to the best I know is in me. I have linked myself irrevocably to truth. I feel that I can find it, here in my small and quiet life. I search for it. I continually ponder what it is and if I am living a life filled with it.