About 12 years back, I wrote the post on this blog: The Search For Absolution, anchored with the following lines from Henry Miller,
“I see myself forever and ever as the ridiculous man, the lonely soul,
the wanderer, the restless frustrated artist, the man in love with love,
always in search of the absolute, always seeking the unattainable”
― Henry Miller, Stand Still Like the Hummingbird
wondering what absolution will be for me. Miller sees himself as the wanderer, a seeker. Impermanence is the very essence of his being. I was seeking relief. A young little kid, I wanted unconditional love and joy. I thought we were the same.
I know now that we were different. I ran halfway around the world. I thought if I just ran far enough, fast enough, I could outrun my pain, as if it were geographically localized. But now I know, it festers within. Miller was content with seeking, without ever finding. My suffering compounded in the search for some absolution. This wanderer, this lonely soul, with a broken heart, grew tired of the chase.
Now, there is nowhere left to run to. A heaviness hangs thick in the air, and the whole world feels so small. With bruised knees, I sit and let this pain wash all over me.
