all i really wanted was to try and live the life that was so spontaneously welling up within me. Why was that so very difficult?
Only the thoughts that we live out have any value引自 12
of introspection
in just such a way the leaves fall around a tree in autumn; the tree doesn't feel it, the rain trickles down it, or sunshine, or frost, and within it life slowly retreats into its narrowest, inmost recess. It doesn't dies. It waits
Rather, it's the same indivisible godhead that is active in us and in nature; and if the outside wold were to perish, any one of us would be capable of reconstructing it, because mountain and river, tree and leaf, root and blossom, every form in nature, has a pre-image inside us; it originates from the soul, whose nature is eternity, whose nature we don't know but is generally revealed to us as the power of love and creativity引自 12
and here comes my favorite paragraph (and the essence as well) of the book:
There was no duty for enlightened people, none, none, except this: to seek themselves, to become certain of themselves, to grope forward along their own path, wherever it might lead. I had dreamt of roles that might be meant for me, as a poet, perhaps, or as a prophet, or as a painter, or whatever else. That was all meaningless. I didn't exist to write poetry, to preach sermons, to paint pictures; neither I nor anyone else existed for that business; in the long run, it was irrelevant. His business was to discover his own destiny, not just any destiny, and to live it totally and undividedly. Anything else was just a half-measure, an attempt to run away, an escape back to the ideal of the masses, an adaptation, fear of one's own nature.引自 12