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Showing posts from February, 2019

A Poet's Journal: May 8th, 2014

May 8th, 2014

Worry and apprehension are seated in every task we undertake, becoming a responsibility in themselves, that it is a pleasure to see falsely and have them crumble before us, finally knowing of their misguidance.  Yet it is often that this delusion comforts the appearance of judgment, leaving us open to the possibility that anything we choose will eventually become true.  Sometimes there is not enough powder in the gun and our plans do not follow through simply because of a too great apprehension of missing the mark; sometimes there is an unmistakable and deadly precision, that we are at a loss of how to describe our arriving at such an outcome.  The problem is not that worry and apprehension are inherent in the decision, it is that the decision asks us not to swerve in our judgment, whereupon worry and apprehension become the figments of our imagination.  This is the conditioned; what every fact, right or wrong, enforces us to realize everyday in our daily habits--to feel…

A Poet's Journal: November 26th, 2013

November 26th, 2013

Some wither, some have the barest trace, and others are just beginning: this is the state of the autumn trees at the moment.  This is, however, not very interesting to know, but the value lies in recognition.  We may use the same language to describe people as well, but if we do not know their momentum; if we do not perceive the movement of their spirit from the outward motion of their bodies, it touches us not even if we had the knowledge of ten thousand men in front of us.  We open ourselves to the reality and the possibility of knowing something through appearance or intended purpose, but take as a sign for understanding the familiarity it brings to our own ideas.  Yet to know something is to respond to it, just as the colour of the sky responds to the inclination of the sun; for we are all speaking even if we pronounce not the slightest word, but it is only those who answer us that we care to talk to--and so it is with the autumn trees.
Douglas Thornton

A Poet's Journal: November 21st, 2013

November 21st, 2013

It is unfortunate to see idleness as negative; for it is a rare thing for one to admit that staring at a wall can bring our livelihood to its ultimate goal, and it is of no concern of ours with what way we occupy our time, as long as we can account for it and produce facts against the contrary.  Do your duty and live well, most of us will say, and the common turn of solitude shall withhold its obligations.  But there is an august reflection in all this: that we are far from ourselves when we would be most intimate, and the idleness we look upon with such offensive gaze, the dearest part of our most successful activity.
Douglas Thornton

A Poet's Journal: November 13th, 2013

November 13th, 2013

This morning a great flock of cranes came in from the ocean and passed inland to the hills; many seem to use this valley as a corridor when the winds are high though their passage lacks not a curious inspiration.  Fog and rain over the last few days have given way to sun, exposing the sudden change to autumn colours; the golden birches to the south are amongst the first to be perceived and admired.  One oak tree, which had taken on a beautiful pink colour last year, and held the sunlight so well, this year looks diseased, so that one would think it melancholic that the sun must shine.
Whatever the day, it is a singular occasion to remain indifferent to daily concerns, and gather within us an appreciation for what is unacknowledged.  It is often that we find ourselves being elicited to speak a certain way, but rare when we should have the chance to speak for ourselves.
Douglas Thornton

Seasons Of Mind Ebook Free!

To celebrate the release of the ebook of Seasons Of Mind, it will be offered free over the next three days to anyone willing to take the time to download it.  Please review it on Amazon if you have found it worthy.
Click here for the epub format (starting February 5th)
Or click here for the kindle format (starting Februrary 6th)
In the meantime, let the following excerpt from August 12th, 2011 of Seasons Of Mind take the place of supplication:
'This morning as I leaned against a rock in the pale of dawn, the soft flame and subtle heat of the sun grew upon my back, as if some giant overstepping the valley, and on the ground in front of me, against the increasing light, my shadow appeared within the very air of which a moment before gave no semblance of human being. The grandeur, or the deep, profound obscurity of things, that lay hidden in the mellow breath of time, wherein the center of our universe comes to completion, and the most important point of that now-revolving cycle of l…