Something To Die For

Because I Know I Am Alive So God Can Be Free—I Cry, Because I Know
That The “Spirit Of Freedom” Is More Important Than Life Itself—I Cry,
I Cry Because I Can’t Hold It In Any Longer

Aug. 26, `82

I’m in a highly charged emotional state. I’m in my parent’s house,
but they are both working.

I was drinking coffee when I flicked on the TV. The morning movie was
an old Errol Flynn movie entitled Uncertain Glory. Immediately, I
became wrapped up in the complexity of the French underground movement
as it fought for a free France during the German occupation of WWII.
Freedom is indeed worth fighting for, and dying for if need be, but
not because it allows us to pursue and satisfy our desires, but
rather, because existence, human existence, is the result of its
evolution. Freedom is about awareness, growth and, ultimately,
bringing the divine into realization. Freedom moves freedom forward
through the liberation of humanity and civilization. At the end of the
movie, when the “cad,” Flynn, made the ultimate sacrifice (faced the
Nazi firing squad to save 100 innocents), I began to cry
uncontrollably. I cried for the “preservation of the good” in the face
all the violence, pain, and despair in the world. I cried for the
“spirit of freedom.”

Whenever I experience something profoundly meaningful, like what
happened to me after that movie, I get scared as hell. Every time I
see something in a new light, with understanding, it scares the hell
out of me. What am I supposed to do? Who am I to tell another person
what ought to be believed, what ought to be done? I’m just like them;
pleasure drives us all. And besides, I lack the will for that kind of
thing, not to mention the ability–so why me? Sure, I believe I see
things that other people do not see, but I don’t understand this. I’m
frightened! I do not know how to respond. But I do know that this
lump in my throat is very painful, and these knots in my stomach are
very tight. My psyche is not strong, never was, yet life, for me, is
so full of meaning that I am overflowing to bursting. What can I do?
What should I do? Why am I so tormented? Perhaps I will write another
page, and then another, and then another, until this emotional rage
subsides; or, perhaps, I will take the “show on the road,” and speak
the words that I know and believe. Why am I so uncertain? Whatever my
future holds, I know it will be different. I feel I am about to embark
on a destination-free journey, but not on this day, — not today!
Today I lack the strength and conviction. Today, I can only cry. And
why? Because, inside, I know God is free. Inside, I know that my
death is a gift, a gift of divinity, the God-given gift of freedom.
Inside, I know the “spirit of freedom” is more important than life
itself. I know that the eternal question–“Why?”—is itself the answer
to the question “why.” I know that there is equivalence among time,
reason, and freedom. I know that God’s conscious freedom—human
freedom– liberates divinity, and I know, contrary to what is written
in Genesis, and in Heidegger too, that meaning’s origin is not found
in “guilt.” Rather, it is found in God, in freedom—in God’s freedom.

And so it goes–with this writing I have worked myself back into a
calm, but a calm that waits to be broken again and again. On the
lighter side, I have been in Houghton Lake for a few days, and
tomorrow I will ride my bicycle home to my apartment in Mt. Pleasant. I have
fine-tuned my home to satisfy my needs and desires, and there I will
pick up my creative work– guitar, painting, writing, meditation, and
hopefully, my release—conversation.

Aug. 28

Well this is it, the end and all of that jazz. I suppose it’s time
for a few reflections on the meaning of this trip. I have already
mentioned that the success of this trip can be attributed to the good
weather, but I would also like to give some credit to an even more
general source, my value system. It didn’t come easy. I had to
survive first. That is remarkable in itself, but more than that, now I
have an answer to what lies embedded at the heart of what it means to
be alive—a thinking, living, human being. Being in touch with that knowledge allows me to optimally participate in life’s blessings. I am more alive now than
ever before. I am incredibly fortunate, and I know it! I am 34 years
old, and I have brought to life my Castalian dream, albeit a different
one, perhaps, than the one Hermann Hesse envisioned in his book,
Magister Ludi, but I don’t think he would disapprove of the changes.
Home never felt so good!

For me, there’s still a great deal to be accomplished. As for
tomorrow, and whether my efforts will bear fruit, time will tell. I
am already engaged in bringing my ideas to light, but it is a slow
process. Failure is certainly a possibility. My optimism, though, is
based in what I believe to be real—the meaning contained in this
symbolism: (((x/y) –(x/y)) (–(x/y) (x/y)))


About bwinwnbwi

About me: Marvin Gaye’s song, "What’s Going On" was playing on the jukebox when I went up to the counter and bought another cup of coffee. When I got back, the painting on the wall next to where I was sitting jumped out at me, the same way it had done many times before. On it was written a diatribe on creativity. It was the quote at the bottom, though, that brought me back to this seat time after time. The quote had to do with infinity; it went something like this: Think of yourself as being in that place where infinity comes together in a point; where the infinite past and the infinite future meet, where you are at right now. The quote was attributed to Hermann Hesse, but I didn’t remember reading it in any of the books that I had read by him, so I went out and bought Hesse’s last novel, Magister Ludi. I haven’t found the quote yet, but I haven't tired of looking for it either.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Something To Die For

  1. Some times standing dead in the water, tears streaming, is the only way to move forward again. Thank you for all you share. Kat

  2. bwinwnbwi says:

    I have, on more than one occasion (not many more, though), let emotions drive my writing. I’m pretty sure, in the above post, I was experienceing a total break down. I could have used your help back then when I was swimming in a whirlwind of feelings I did not understand nor could control. You have devoted your life to helping people like me and I am very grateful. Thank you for being You–and thank you for all you share!

  3. bwinwnbwi says:

    I’m sorry to say that right now I can’t remember when my father died, but back a few posts I said my father died a year ago (1981) and I’m confident that post was/is correct. At the end of my 1982 bicycle trip I still had family to greet me upon my return, but my father would not have been among them–old age then and now–it’s a bitch.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s