Hi guys. It's Britt. Sometimes I worry that the best days of my life are behind me. Of course I know that's not true, not really. Things really are getting better, and I like that as I grow older I have more and more of a sense of who I am.
Still, I used to feel absolutely invincible. As time passes and all the little rejections and mis-steps pile up, it's easy to loose sight of the bigger picture.
Dear Brittany, Here's a poem for you, written by Jorge Luis Borges in his old age. He was going blind, but was trying to teach himself Anglo-Saxon so he could read Beowulf in the original. POEM WRITTEN IN A COPY OF BEOWULF At various times I have asked myself what reasons Moved me to study, while my night came down, Without particular help of satisfaction, The language of the blunt-tongued Anglo-Saxons. Used up by the years my memory Loses its grip on words that I have vainly Repeated and repeated. My life in the same way Weaves and unweaves its weary history. Then I tell myself: it must be that the soul Has some secret sufficient way of knowing That it is immortal, that its vast encompassing Circle can take in all, can accomplish all. Beyond my anxiety and beyond this writing The universe waits, inexhaustible, inviting. Wishing you a heroic voyage, John
Have a heroic weekend, story-makers. See you back here on Monday.
Britt
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