A respite. A sudden silence amidst a downpour. A -- dare I say it? -- moment of exhilaration. I hardly know what to do. How to reconcile this with what I've been internalizing so far. I don't worry much though. It is far easier to internalize good things than bad ones. I will swallow this up. Lap up the last drops. Make it define me more than it should.
The Epicureans believed that pleasure is only the absence of pain. You would think this experience has proven to me that they are right, that the best we can hope for is a rest from the pounding rain. But the opposite. Relief is only relief. The first relief is even less. The first relief comes with fear of temporality. Fear that it is only a blip and that the default state of being remains the crushing torrent. Pleasure is something else. Of what I'm not sure. But its absence has only convinced me all the more of the Epicureans' mistake.
**
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
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