I Would Speak, Then Stop, and Only Say: “What a Cool Autumn”

September 8, 11:58 p.m.

I worked on the website again. Building it was a little frustrating, perhaps because I haven’t been in a very good mood these past few days.

All right. I’ve become more forgiving now. Though “forgiving” isn’t quite the word, because there is no one who can really hurt me, nothing that can leave me dissatisfied. I see a wholeness in life. Everything is in motion, and I am here to watch that motion unfold.

I am still looking for somewhere to place my heart. I have realized that I am not my body, that I am not any particular person. I need an object that can house my soul, the way a body does.

I think this is a great moment, because I have the chance to feel something true about life. Yet precisely because this feeling is unusual, I will still be capable of forgetting it. So I can choose my life while in this extraordinary state.

It is now eleven at night on September 9, and the evening wind has turned a little cool. The middle of this entry was written today; the beginning and end were written yesterday. I think both should stay. They will come together well enough.

I once heard someone say that if you want to go somewhere, there is only one way to get there: you must not already be there. It sounds roundabout. But life seems to consist of these two states, being there and not being there, and our hazy awareness somewhere between them. You think you are not there, so you keep searching. You hope to be there, but the very hope of arriving assumes that you are not there now. If the only time we live in is the present, then that hope will never arrive.