Monday, January 25, 2010
Journal Entry, June 1863:
It seems appropriate that the Jones family farm is located in an area of Virginia called The Wilderness. I have wandered in that wilderness as the Buddha wandered, as Jesus wandered, as all pilgrims wander, walking towards and away from the light which is our life. When I was there at home, that light seemed to be a fire that one must stand back from; too close will burn a boy’s backside, like a woodstove after a bath. Now that light could be cities burning; now I see the light of distant fires, but cannot reach the flame. Perhaps, like the moth landing on my lantern; in one fine and final moment, I will disappear into that light.