I would not exchange my leisure hours for all the wealth in the world.---Comte de Mirabeau
Finished reading "The Soul School, Confessions of a Passenger on Planet Earth" (1995) by Guy Murchie, author of "The Seven Mysteries of Life". Too much 'passenger', not enough 'soul', though his travels through Iraq and Afghanistan are topical.
This Guy has lead the life I have long fantasized about living myself, a kind of spiritual Jack Kerouac with credit cards and train reservations, so why did I find his writing so . . . uh, flat? He seemed somehow detached from . . . let's see, from . . . ah, from the grit of life. That's it. Not enough grit.
And a life without grit is as unwelcome in my reality as Mary Martin at a Mohave Desert Phone Booth party.
Tags: Mojave phone booth, Mary Martin, comte de mirabeau, The Soul School, confessions, 7 mysteries of life, Iraq, Afghanistan, Guy Murchie, Jack Kerouac, spiritual travel, grit, Mojave National Preserve, goofy government, National Park Service, park strangers, unwelcome reality
See, yer perceptions of things have been corrupted but the sense of truth you've found in the street life. The "good life" won't feel good any more. Like goin' back and bein' a vigin again. You can never go back, I guess.
ReplyDeleteAhyup. Can't unsee the things I've seen. As Jack wrote: "They were unthinkable to me until I saw them, and I was no spring chicken in the ways of the world and the awful abysses of human degradation."
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