Monday morning. The usual routine now is to putter around downstairs, watch a politics show and catch up on news of the world. Then I climb to the third story to begin the work day.
I’m in the middle of a real pickle with “Running Girl,” one I’m not sure I can find the right combination of ham and swiss cheese to make edible. That’s today’s main task: staring. Staring at the screen. Staring out of the window. Coaxing the muse out of the plaster of the walls. Finding a smidgen of courage to go on.
To help inject some thought into the process, I read random things. It’s kind of like flipping through a book and sticking a finger in somewhere. Maybe there’s something guiding the finger (and maybe not), but it’s a technique to start moving the mental needle. This is today’s offering.”
“The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed. It was the experience of mystery — even if mixed with fear — that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, our perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which only in their most primitive forms are accessible to our minds: it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute true religiosity. In this sense, and only this sense, I am a deeply religious man… I am satisfied with the mystery of life’s eternity and with a knowledge, a sense, of the marvelous structure of existence — as well as the humble attempt to understand even a tiny portion of the Reason that manifests itself in nature.”