Quotes to Live By — Wrecks of Another World

Lord Byron, the famous English poet, wrote many beautiful poems and quotes to live by.  Among his most famous of works was his poem which begins “She walks in beauty like the night.”  He said something once, a description of human beings, that I’ve always loved, my favorite of his quotes to live by.  Of human beings he said that we are:

Wrecks of another world, whose ashes are still warm.

I so often feel this way, a man only seldom doing what he’s really meant to do in life, faintly glowing with purpose at times, but mostly simply doing what’s expected of me.  And yet sometimes, though rarely, the breath of inspiration will blow and stir the embers red and glowing, and I’ll remember again that life is something more than what I have yet lived.  And every time the breath of inspiration stirs, I always look back on my life in distress, wondering why it’s been so long since I’ve really lived my life with resolve, lived deliberately.  Which leads to the second of the quotes to live by.  This one is from another famous poet, Pablo Neruda, who said:

Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

It seems as though I am two men.  The one man, which I have been for most of my life, cares little as he goes about his days.  He bides his time in happiness, yet never really in joy; in concern, yet never really in passion; in comfort, yet never really in peace.  But then, invariably, something will happen, some situation will arise, which will cause the breath of inspiration to flow over my ashes, and stir them to a new glow.  I’ll feel as though I’ve been wasting my time just settling for good enough, as though the status quo is all there ever is.  I’ll feel a new resolve to live deliberately and to the full, and I’ll remember again that love is so short and forgetting is so long.  This expression of indefinable resolve and inspiration was once expressed by the philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, who said:

It seems to him, according to the poet’s explanation, as if something inexpressible thrusts itself forward from his inmost being, the unspeakable, for which indeed language has no vessel of expression.  Even the longing is not the inexpressible itself.  It is only the hastening after it.

It’s such an odd thing to be struck with a feeling of resolve and inspiration that tells me only that I need to do better — to live more deliberately, to love more fiercely, and to be a better man.  I suppose that Kierkegaard is exactly right, there is no expression for this type of feeling.  So what then, is man to do, when the breath of inspiration blows over the wrecks of his ashes and stirs within him a resolve to be better than what he is?  I suppose that that is why I take such comfort in the Lord, for I know that deep down, my truest and greatest desires can never be met or fulfilled by my own actions, and though it may be inexpressible and unattainable to me, it isn’t to Him.

Mountainside If you liked this post, you’ll definitely like Ben’s book Mountainside — a philosophical and poetical work that explores the depths of life and modern society.


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More Thoughts on Life From the Mountainside

Here are some more thoughts on life in an excerpt from the manuscript Mountainside.  This excerpt comes at a time when an entire cloud had enveloped the mountainside while we were inside the mountain exploring a steep cave.  We had entered the cave through a series of boulders, and had traveled down a jagged slope, until finally finding an exit on the other side.  Upon seeing it, it was almost as though we had come out to find a completely different world, this one shrouded in mist.   I’ve quoted from parts of this before, if it seems somewhat familiar.  I hope you enjoy:

“Moving slowly, I began a descent, one which grew more difficult with every passing step.  I nearly slipped beyond recovery at times, clinging with all my might to the smooth stone I crawled down.  The floor of the exit was only a few feet below.  I could hear the breeze from beyond and could see thin strips of mist entering and disappearing below.  With one final leap, I left the wall and landed on the dusty floor of the third compartment, scattering the mist that silently flowed with the breeze across the ground.

I marveled as I looked down about my feet, enchanted by the thin dusting of mist that suddenly shot up from the ground into the air from the tromping of my feet. But then, only a second later, the mist once more settled around me — I, now a part of the little-changing world, just another slight impediment to which the fog twisted skillfully by being pushed slowly forward by the breeze until finally coming to rest at a spot it could not navigate, heaping up into a pile by the cave’s far wall behind me, climbing heavenward a few feet in futility and then sinking back down again, swirling in quiet frustration with nowhere left to travel.

I was mesmerized by the sight before me, and also by the sheer stillness of this world.  Outside the cave, but also within, the mist was ever creeping and moving, blanketing the landscape in a mysterious softness, as though the fog possessed an ethereal quality that both pacified the mind and invigorated the imagination.  I now stood staring out into the openness of what was to be our exit.  We had seen the mist earlier, creeping along the valley, mingling with a world yet untouched by man.  Now it had done its work fully, passing through the valley and even to the places beyond, climbing the walls of the mountain ahead of us.  The whole mountain was being consumed by a quiet steady gray.  Soon we would plunge ourselves into the midst of it.

My friend joined me at length, once more the mist erupting in complaint, and then continuing on its course, trapped by the constant breeze that drove it past our feet.  We wandered around the cave awhile and at last came to rest at the back wall where the mist was heaping up and swirling about with nowhere left to travel.  We stooped down and sat with our backs against the wall, watching the silent mist creep slowly up our bodies, crashing weightlessly into our chests and swirling about in complaint.  It was beautiful. There was something perfect here, something indefinable and rare that led our minds to wander about a sphere of dreams larger than those possible in the civilized world.

It reminded me yet again of the untold promise found in the solitude of lonely morning places.  Dreams are larger in places such as these — the things the mind can invent and imagine, of a richer substance and more tangibly real.  Here, in places where mystery and solitude have combined to form landscapes rare and beautiful, the mind is brought to its own inner landscape, a landscape brimming with imaginings more vibrant and alive that those of the average day to day, dreams holding possibilities unseen in the world below.

The aspirations of what we, as men, might accomplish with our lives are often small in the stifled air that comes to rest on the places where man congregates.  With so much to settle for in the world below, hope is often cheap and commonly wasted on simple things.  Grand things seem less attainable, even less desirable.  For while the mist, in places such as these, proclaims that the world is full of mystery and potential, the strangled air of the cities proclaims that nothing beyond the ordinary will ever be accomplished. We believe we are small because we live and move in small places, choking on the stifled air that comes to rest in regions where life is settled for rather than sought.  One thing I can say with confidence: My aspiration to live a life more rare and grand than what is commonly seen always grows after travels such as these.  Why did the Lord make us such a grand creation if not to inspire us to equally grand and heroic things?  We are evidence of His grand and wondrous nature.  As sharers of His image, we should seek the grand as well, not with vain and selfish hearts, but simply to fulfill our shared right as image-bearers of a Grand Creator.

Such were the thoughts that flooded my mind as we stood surrounded by the mighty stone walls of the cave.  We both hovered near the back wall where we had emerged, staring out of what was to be our exit from this cave.  Swiftly we departed in silence and headed on, leaving only a convulsive wisp of mist behind as we dove into gray.”

Mountainside If you liked this post, you’ll love the rest of Ben’s book Mountainside.


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Quotes to Live By — Socrates, the Unexamined Life

There’s an ancient Greek quote to live by that I’ve always strongly connected with.  It was a simple command etched into stone on the side of one of their buildings.  The command was simply to “Know Thyself.”  When I first read about that quote, I didn’t really understand what it was saying.  How can a person not know themselves, I wondered?  But slowly, as I began to mature into a man, it started making sense.  And then I came across another great quote, this one also attributed to the ancient Greeks, to Socrates himself, which cemented the idea in my mind.  He said:

The unexamined life is not worth living

When I read that as a younger man, it really caused me to take a look at life in different terms.  I began to realize that society has a plan and a course for each one of us.  In today’s world, a person goes to college, gets a good job, spends the next 30 years of his life buying himself a place to sleep, has 2.5 children, and most likely gets a divorce. That is the simple path that modern society would have each of us aspire to.  But I have always wanted something more than that.  Once I read this quote from Socrates, I no longer simply wanted to blindly walk the path set out in front of me by the society of the day.  And once I began to study and explore the different facets of life, I began to understand what it meant to know myself.  And I came across another saying in the book of Proverbs in the Bible that echoes the words of Socrates:

The wisdom of the prudent is to give thought to their ways

Just on the surface of things, it seems like an almost foolish, silly idea to just sit around and think about life.  Life is life.  You just live it.  And yet, there’s something more, something deeper to be found if each of us would just spend some time examining life and giving thought to our ways.  In a recent book, an author David Straker describes how, becoming adults, before we really have much experience with the world, human beings are what he describes as unconsciously incompetent.  We don’t really know how to do a whole lot, and what’s worse, we don’t even understand how much we really don’t know about life and the world around us.  But as we progress, we transition from a state of unconscious incompetence, to a state conscious incompetence where we at last realize all the things we really don’t know.  We finally sit down to really understand ourselves, to understand life and explore the things in life that are really worth doing.  I think of another quote by Confucius:

To know that you don’t know what you don’t know, that is true wisdom

It’s interesting, before I spent time getting to know myself, I thought I had the world figured out.  But as I sat down to really explore life, I realized just how much I was missing as a human being.  I suppose that’s a good thing though.  Humility is definitely a pathway to wisdom and to God.  Maybe that’s the whole point.


Thoughts on Life from the Mountainside

The following is an excerpt from one of my manuscripts called Mountainside, which is the writings and thoughts on life that I penned while out exploring the wilds of nature with a friend.  I was rereading it this weekend and wanted to share an excerpt.  This excerpt is from the middle of our trip, right after we had spent an hour on top of a boulder cliff looking out over a broad valley:

“We passed by something which we had not noticed before, a recessed room within the very boulder we still walked upon.  It was a cutout of sorts within the top of the rock itself, quite large and spacious.  The cutout was a rectangular shape and recessed down into the boulder about four feet.  Gazing at it further, we surmised that some ancient powerful tremor had cut the stone in two and slid the top third of the boulder a few feet to the right, forming a stone walkway which led to the ledge of the cliff we had just been on, and also the same force which had made this out-of-place recess in the stone we now peered at.  Examining it in this new light, it looked as if the boulder was really two boulders, one sitting slightly out of alignment and on top of the other.

As we entered the stone room, the toe of my boot made contact with an object I had not seen; it let out a complaint of high pitched sounds as it flew haphazardly across the stone floor.  I could not discern what it was I had unintentionally kicked.  I waited for the sound to stop and then searched the floor earnestly, sliding my hands across the smooth cold stone.  After a few moments, I managed to come upon its location.

There it sat, a tiny piece of glass, hiding in the corner, still wounded from my careless boot.  I picked it up and eyed it carefully.  Perfectly disguised it was, with its murky brown complexion.  It would have fit expertly into the natural world, if not for the sound it made which testified that it didn’t belong.  It was a stranger in this rectangular world of stone, a wayfarer that had ended its journey to rest within a comfortable home.  And though its color aptly camouflaged it in the pebbled ground, something in this place wouldn’t let the poor glass get away with its disguise.

I laid it down on the ground and struck it again, this time intentionally with the toe of my boot.  I watched it dance across the floor of stone.  Its weak and high pitched call announced that it was not native to this world of stone.  Material of human construction has not yet withstood the test of time as these ancient boulders have.  The stones in this place are not yet willing to let those of a weaker nature acquire a place within their private home.  I felt pity for the tiny piece of glass and its lack of confidence, surrounded by such mighty stone.

I looked down for one of the small rocks scattered sparsely about the stone floor.  I found one and struck it with my boot to compare its nature with that of the glass.  Instantly the little rock resonated a strong, deep tone, not afraid to show what it was made of, already having been tried and tested in the ancient world from whence it came.  It had no doubts about its character.  After a moment, it came to rest in the northeast corner next to the glass.  I looked at them lying side by side in the corner.  And I thought of the nature of man.  How many still lack confidence, having never been tested or tried in the world around them?  “Rejoice in trials and give thanks,” the Bible says, for that will show us what we are made of.  To know the limits of our character and resolve, that is what takes us from being glass to rock.”


Seeking God — The Nature of Truth

The following is the intro chapter of a long thesis I’ve been working on about seeking God and the nature of truth and wisdom. I hope if you read it that you’ll be willing to tell me what you think about it.  Seeking God — The Nature of Truth:

Every system of philosophy I’ve ever admired, every philosopher I’ve read whom I respect–each of them has made a very shocking claim about truth and seeking God. They have said that wisdom and truth are not only difficult to attain, they’re often seen as foolishness to society; scoffed at by the masses. When I fist came across this concept in philosophy, I was bewildered. How could it be that wisdom could be seen as foolishness, and foolishness wisdom? I will give you a handful of examples. First, from the Tao Te Ching, a quote about seeking and finding wisdom and the right way to live life:

Scholars of the highest class, when they hear about the Tao,
earnestly carry it into practice. Scholars of the middle class,
when they have heard about it, seem now to keep it and now
to lose it. Scholars of the lowest class, when they have heard
about it, laugh greatly at it. If it were not thus laughed at,
it would not be fit to be the Tao
.”

It’s important to first note that when he uses the word “class” he’s not talking about social status or caste. The word “class” is synonymous more with the word “order” or “degree.” He’s saying “Scholars of the highest order or degree,” not”Scholars of the highest social class.” But let’s move on. Taoism, Tao means “the way.” The way of wisdom; the way of our world; the way of the natural balance and order of the universe; the way to live life to its fullest measure. And what does it say about this “Way?” Some who hear about it eagerly put it into practice. Some who hear about it seek to live by it, but often fail in their attempts. But the common man, when he hears about it, not only rejects it, but labels it foolish. What has turned him round so completely, we must wonder, that what he thinks is foolish is wisdom, and what he perceives as wisdom, is nothing more than his simple pleasures?

The next example is from a western philosophy, Plato, and his”Allegory of the Cave.” In principle, these two philosophies, on a whole, are as different as they come. And yet, when they talk about the nature of truth, seeking God, and man’s relationship to wisdom, they have a striking similarity. In Plato’s allegory, he has us imagine a cave in which prisoners have been kept since childhood, unable to see the light of the sun or any of the outside world, and chained to the ground, facing the back of the cave. There is a fire burning behind them, and occasionally, puppeteers pass objects in front of the fire, casting shadows and images on the back wall of the cave for the prisoners to see.

He says that over time, the prisoners would come to accept the shadows of the images as the real things themselves – real truth and wisdom. But then he describes what happens when one of them finally is freed and able to walk from the cave:

When one of them was freed and suddenly compelled to stand up, turn his head, walk, and look up toward the light, he’d be pained and dazzled and unable to see the things whose shadows he’s seen before. What do you think he’d say, if we told him that what he’d seen before was inconsequential, but that now because he is a bit closer to the things that are and is turned towards things that are more he sees more correctly?… And if someone drug him away from there by force, up the rough, steep path, and didn’t let him go until he had dragged him into the sunlight…he’d see the shadows most easily, then images of men and other things in water, then the things themselves… he’d see the sun, not images of it in water or some alien place, but the sun itself, in its own place, and be able to study it…

Consider this too. If this man went down into the cave again and sat down in his same seat, wouldn’t his eyes, coming suddenly out of the sun like that, be filled with darkness? And before his eyes had recovered, and the adjustment would not be quick, while his vision was still dim… wouldn’t it be said of him that he’d returned from his upward journey with his eyesight ruined and that it isn’t worthwhile even to try to travel upward.

It’s such an interesting picture, mankind chained to the back wall of a darkened cave, most of its citizens unable to perceive real and meaningful things, but only the shadows of those things. But once they do at last perceive the real and true good, they’re often seen as fools and ridiculed by the masses. It’s the same idea conveyed by the Tao Te Ching above. When those who cannot perceive wisdom and real truth come into contact with it, they perceive it as foolishness and ridicule it. One more example, this one from the Bible, the book of First Corinthians:

For it is written:
‘I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate.’

Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?…But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong…We do, however, speak a message of wisdom among the mature, but not the wisdom of this age or of the rulers of this age, who are coming to nothing. No, we speak of God’s secret wisdom, a wisdom that has been hidden and that God destined for our glory before time began.”

Are they not all giving the same message? There is something out there, something mysterious and secret, something that most will never perceive or understand. And so, we each must ask ourselves two basic questions. Are there truly great and wonderful things in this world to be found, things that most who hear about them shake their heads at? And if so, what keeps us from seeing and knowing what they are? What keeps us locked up in chains, staring at the back wall of the cave of which all humankind is a part?

And so we each must ask ourselves. Do we really know what wisdom is? Do we really know the things in life truly worth attaining, truly worth striving after? In another place in the Bible, the author describes mankind in this way:“The wise man has eyes in his head, while the fool walks in the darkness.“  Simple, yet true.  We go to school, go to work, get a job, buy a house. We play sports and watch TV, and all the while, our life slowly slips away from us, and never do we realize that these are the things people do, not the things they live for. Those things are something rare, things which must be sought, not stumbled upon or settled for.

For my own part, I feel like the scholar of the middle class who at times seems now to keep it and now to lose it. Most of my days are spent in simple diligence, going about my tasks, never once lifting my mind’s eye to the heavens, to discover what else this life may hold for one like me. But when life finally does come to call, when I feel that subtle beckoning away from the business of life, something changes. Making my way down a dusty road in evening underneath the starry canopy of the heavens, something comes and demands to know what I’ve been doing with this life of mine — if I have lived it with wisdom and passion, or squandered it on foolish things. And in those moments, something within me will suddenly change. I’ll feel a sudden rush of timelessness sweep over me, and I’ll remember that I too am a part of something greater than myself, hearing again those whispers of ancient questions asked of every man in the quiet hours of his thought. What kind of man will you become, it whispers to me? Will you be the kind of man who fights for great and worthy things? Or will you settle for the vain ambitions of a small and petty heart?



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