I have made no secret about my appreciation for the philosophy of the Existentialists. I gravitate towards their ideas of personal freedom, authenticity, and responsibility as a means towards personal discovery and development and I have written a great deal about them in previous articles.
I am a terrible parent. It’s ok. It hurt when I was first informed of it but I have had a few years for it to sink in and I am ok with it now.
A tree sways its thick branches overhead, waving to me in my lying repose. I stare up through the green canopy of leaves and watch the sun steal in among the movement, stabbing it’s bright heat to the forest floor and warming the fragrant pine needles that have accumulated like a mattress.
I walked down to the bank of the river and caught the sun’s light stabbing through the horizon line of pines on the other shore of the Black River.
It is not hard to understand why people would dismiss most religions. If their fundamentalist advocates are not attempting to subjugate some other belief system or committing acts of terror, they are propagating lies and deceptions in the form of pseudo-truths and misappropriated facts.
I run through the woods like a wolf. Pulled fast on feet that barely touch the ground and with the hungry eagerness of a predator chasing prey.
So, I have a confession to make. It’s a pretty damning confession from someone who writes about personal development and motivation and discipline.
This is going to be one of those articles that I put out that is more catharsis than meaningful practical, tactical advice or wisdom.
It has been sometime since I have vomited out a profanity laced article that tackles the lighter side of all this personal development shit.
If you haven’t noticed from reading over my blog, I write a great deal about romantic love. It is something that interests and intrigues me like few other subjects.
