i learn

For the first time in my life, "Are you always this quiet?"

No. I'm learning how to listen. I'm learning how to listen to myself. For quite some time, I've been lacking direction. Typically I adhere some vague yet powerful mantra to my life. Since high school, I have lived deliberately per Thoreau's instruction. I strove. I achieved. Now, it seems as though living deliberately just is not enough. I've matured beyond.

In this constant quest for truth, I have become a recluse. I must admit that the original motivation was a bit askew but things come full circle. I have made a habit of frequenting a local cafe in order to get back in touch with an old friend, Adam. Adam and I have never been the best of friends, but I enjoy his company. In so doing, I developed a manner of turning inward - I began reading, once again. At first it was solely as a distraction. Quickly, however, I found myself drowning in the text, gasping for air.

Initially, I reread Thoreau. Walden Pond, one of the greatest literary feats of mankind was unable to satiate my appetite. I devoured it. It was quite pleasing to the senses.

I then thumbed through my library of literature. I tried to read something I'd never read. The problem here is that I have read through just about everything that I own at least two or three times. Finding a 'new' fascination was quite the challenge.

Late one night, as I was evaluating the contents of my library, I discovered a Kahlil Gibran book that I had never even opened. As part of a compilation, I pushed it aside attributing its contents to similar processes of thought as his other works.

Boy was I wrong. As I read through Gibran's latest sermon to Isaac, one sentence stood out. Authors usually throw these obnoxious phrases at me, no shame.

March on. Do not tarry.

For the whole of 2009, I will march on. I will not tarry.