Danny James

Tag: wind

299: Entry point

A gentle wind reminds the heart of its wings, and by degrees draws an idle travellers musings again to contemplate the horizon.

294: An imperfect system

Can it not be said, that only he can meet calm and relief who is storm-worn and standing and who has not stumbled thus his respiring? Who has allowed his balance to find him by at last keeping still though else nothing is, and having flung to the gusts for the valley below his charge and strain of striving vain. By not gripped by the incertitude of factual things such as winds and aims, they ceased to fatigue him and fell away into vanishment the more he fought them not. He has seen his depths and caring less for heights is happy if he can burn the day sitting on the adret of his Himalaya, to finish a good book and gathering there in himself like the snow and sunlight around him, and passing unhindered through his own being like the tide of ordinance.

72: Take a knee, soldier

Unless they are aligned with your own hopes and pursuit of a truthful, just and purposeful existence consigned by Natures ordinance, be absolved of your need to carry another’s heavy expectations. More so, abandon those of your own forming you would dutifully hoist upon your bowed shoulders by some misled sense of import. There is too great an expense attached to the enterprise. Though indeed a stout man, in honour and action, and accepting all things under Creation’s gentle regulation are reconciled, knowing thus there is no challenge or change in this world you are not fit to bear, remember still; you are but a man.

Grant yourself leave to fail, to miss, to hold back, make another run when at full might, when the fires of presence once more your vessels rumble, and the winds of opportunity, blowing aims direction again press at your back; to have an ordinary day; unheroic and un-accomplished: It is sufficient, with what vigour resides in you that does not reach or strive to answer impossible notions, to just be.

71: Watching Winter

This old bench has braved the changes, and, perhaps for its lonely place has long enchanted me to sit and share in its story, or receptivity learn. Under strained Apollo’s grace, reacquainting myself with a Winter scene when playful Aurae dance upon the atmosphere with jovial abandon, weaving and brushing glassy chimes whose tickled laughter is symphony of children’s revelry. The arterial bough that splits the sky has long ago cast off her lush ribbons and contented seeming with her nakedness displayed, owns a most essential refinement that nature consents yet ever struggles humanity against. We too, in due season must, without arrogance our gifts receive, and surrender them without strife.

62: Discoursing with intellectuals

Deliver us from the monotony of fools?

Perhaps sir, the intellectuals will bury themselves first.

Perhaps thy introspections, though striking may they be, are boorish and unuseful to common minds that into thy calculation saunter, and who benefit the better from deliberate action of the limbs, than rather prolonged deliberation. In truth, there are many brands of intelligence under the human scope; those whom thou wouldst consider dullards, that pay no invest to such stale and vain pontificating, might enjoy a maturating emotional intelligence beyond the reckoning of the super thinker who recites the technique of heartache that has not its awfulness stood, but sits dry in his library studying and forecasting the climate though rain still wets and suns still set, and tilts he at a draft condemning the impression for hurricane. It is not correctness nor helpful to censure anyone would not entertain thy admonishment, neither is it a defect in them if thy virtues do not their thoughts inhabit. The campaigns of fault-finders have always met with unconscious success, and closed at their own feet. Nay, deliver us indeed from the foolishness of wise men who surmise their own limit for world’s end. The many components of human aspects are, in the tiniest significance, so entire that we’ll never exhaust one of her capacities, but the ripening be assured, as all but youth well know, is ever ongoing – conceivably the perfect human monotony; for along the aeon of this human diversity, there is no tedium so diminishing and diminishment starved, save the concepts of ‘each other,’ and ‘better than.’ It does not befall a single star to illumine the midnight shade, but by every star, bright and humble are enchanting evenings made.

51

The fault is mine, that like a balloon ascending the sky, I could not be doted on and rushed from your gentle hand first wind, needing oblivion to love you better.