I just stood at the junction of my lane and Church
Lane for some time, taking in the sweep of the
sunny landscape. It struck me, as it always does, how beautiful it is. But then
I realised that I wasn’t just observing the landscape, I was also observing
myself observing the landscape. And that was when that old, insistent little
voice began to whisper quietly again:
‘This isn’t as real as it looks, you know, and neither are
you. The nearest you can get to reality is the feeling.’
So maybe that’s why I’m so in awe of the process of feeling.
If there’s one area of life in which I would describe myself as an epicure,
that would be it. Feeling for the sake of feeling. A connoisseur of feeling.
So that took me onto the next question. Does it mean that
the people who feel things most deeply, most sharply, most insistently, are the
ones who are closest to a more real level of reality?
I think it must be one of those days.
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