11 February 2001
incept dates. -|-
musings of señor prod. -|-
What fears abound! Perhaps the answer to this lies somewhere in my past. I wonder how I got it into
my mind that one can lose heaven, but not hell? My persistent fear is
committing the unpardonable sin. Thus, I walk on egg-shells, because for some reason I feel like it could
all come crashing down over my ears at any time. Dread of it all going inextricably wrong, without
ever knowing why. Or worse, knowing too well. So please be patient with me as I make these mistakes,
because I will, and when I do, I'll be afraid that I've ruined everything.
My mind is reeling. I am intensely focused and completely addled at once. I have always favored
observation over experience. My method of learning has been more through others' mistakes rather than
my own. Now, with a little help, I'm beginning to see the downside of this, and beginning to wonder
whether the default mode has been caution or fear. Where discretion is the better part of valor,
and fear is the better part of discretion, have I valiantly gone on, not actually living?
There is no substitution for the immediacy of presence, unrestrained visceral emotion. I work in words;
have I dissected (and killed) what I longed to experience? In physics, as in many other disciplines,
observation is an act of violence and explanation renders the deeper truths almost meaningless. Yet here I
am, toiling in the idiom of my facility, and making no headway. There is no substitution for the
face-to-face. I mislead you here.
I want to share a silence with you that lasts hours. I want to communicate without language, of any
The signs aren't inscribed with words I recognize. Knowing where to go has always been simple enough,
but in a land I rarely visit, I never can remember how to get there.... Sometimes I stumbled upon the
right way, other times, I was led. I always seek the temple. A place to worship, perhaps. A place to
connect with the mystery, certainly. A place to know and be known.
A dozen paths lie before me with a dozen destinations. But how can I see the next step before me when
my eyes and my mind are a thousand miles away?
musings of señor prod.
Not much rest for the weary at The Revolution.
And not much solace for the fearful. What price glory?