What is the point. That is what must be borne in mind. Sometimes the point is really who wants what. Sometimes the point is what is right or kind. Sometimes the point is a momentum, a fact, a quality, a voice, an imitation, a thing that is said or unsaid. Sometimes it's who's at fault, or what will happen if you do not move at once. The point changes and goes out. You cannot be forever watching for the point, or you lose the simplest thing: being a major character in your own life. But if you are, for any length of time, custodian of the point—in art, in court, in politics, in lives, in rooms—it turns out there are rear-guard actions everywhere. To see a thing clearly, and when your vision of it dims, or when it goes to someone else, if you have a gentle nature, keep your silence, that is lovely. Otherwise, now and then, a small foray is worthwhile. Just so that being always, complacently, thoroughly wrong does not become the safest position of them all. The point has never quite been entrusted to me.
Oh boy that's deep. I made a habit of being safely ensconced in my wrongness for a long while..."ok, I'm wrong...leave me alone!" Making forays is dangerously good. Sometimes the person making the point gets shot from all sides. But aren't the forays glorious?
Oh boy that's deep. I made a habit of being safely ensconced in my wrongness for a long while..."ok, I'm wrong...leave me alone!" Making forays is dangerously good. Sometimes the person making the point gets shot from all sides. But aren't the forays glorious?