A PHILOSOPHER'S JOURNAL
My name is Jesse Charles McGaa.
This year I will turn fifty-eight.
It might seem that at such an age it's a little late to start a journal but this, however, is a philosopher's journal. To have started at a younger age would have been presumptuous and, in truth, never occurred to me.
Even at fifty-seven it might still seem presumptuous but it has occurred to me,
therefore I will begin.
Trusting that wisdom advances with age I would venture to presume that it is time to begin all the while hoping that I will have a long enough future to test the wisdom that I believe I have at present.
What I mean by the term 'philosopher' is the standard root meaning of the word which is; lover or seeker of wisdom.
Here, let me hasten to point out that I have been neither. Wisdom has come to me unsought after, most often by surprise and, I have to admit, in spite of my lack of love for it. Wisdom has had to shake me out of sluggishness, slap my hysterical face, and dowse my sleeping intellect with cold water over and over again.
Unsought after during life's trials, wisdom has always arrived to help me sort out and pick up the pieces; to encourage me with the words, "Next time."
"Who is this person that I am?"
It might seem that at such an age it's a little late to start a journal but this, however, is a philosopher's journal. To have started at a younger age would have been presumptuous and, in truth, never occurred to me.
Even at fifty-seven it might still seem presumptuous but it has occurred to me,
therefore I will begin.
Trusting that wisdom advances with age I would venture to presume that it is time to begin all the while hoping that I will have a long enough future to test the wisdom that I believe I have at present.
What I mean by the term 'philosopher' is the standard root meaning of the word which is; lover or seeker of wisdom.
Here, let me hasten to point out that I have been neither. Wisdom has come to me unsought after, most often by surprise and, I have to admit, in spite of my lack of love for it. Wisdom has had to shake me out of sluggishness, slap my hysterical face, and dowse my sleeping intellect with cold water over and over again.
Unsought after during life's trials, wisdom has always arrived to help me sort out and pick up the pieces; to encourage me with the words, "Next time."
"Who is this person that I am?" Did you ever ask yourself that?
Maybe not in so many words, but perhaps in different ways?
I'm writing these words so that my thoughts may be shared.
I want the 'world' to read them.
Someone once said, 'No man is an island."
Perhaps such a statement needs to be articulated in order to refute the otherwise compelling notion or feeling that we are, as individuals, to a degree isolated and apart. I know I sometimes feel like an island.
So, these words are a message from my island; a message sent adrift on the waves of thought like a bottled message, corked and tossed into the currents of life's Random Sea.
When this message makes its way to you know that it carries with it my sincere gratitude. That you would spend these irretrievable moments of your life reading these words is a profound honor for me. Whoever you are I pray that what is written here will bring your heart greater peace; for this message is but an offering of my soul to yours.
Now, I must give credit where credit is due. All the thought this message contains, though it may be uniquely expressed, is not in the least letter original. How could it be? How could I possibly trace the derivatives of thought to which I have at this moment arrived? Can the water of the sea trace its origin, by droplets, to the river or cloud? Can the grains of sand on the shore reassemble themselves to form the rocks they once were?
So I ascribe my thoughts to the comprehension and consciousness of greater humanity into which I have been assumed. Although I divest my self of originality, I do adhere to a claim of self-expression in the presentation of my thoughts; which may render them, if not unique, at least curious.
Maybe not in so many words, but perhaps in different ways?
I'm writing these words so that my thoughts may be shared.
I want the 'world' to read them.
Someone once said, 'No man is an island."
Perhaps such a statement needs to be articulated in order to refute the otherwise compelling notion or feeling that we are, as individuals, to a degree isolated and apart. I know I sometimes feel like an island.
So, these words are a message from my island; a message sent adrift on the waves of thought like a bottled message, corked and tossed into the currents of life's Random Sea.
When this message makes its way to you know that it carries with it my sincere gratitude. That you would spend these irretrievable moments of your life reading these words is a profound honor for me. Whoever you are I pray that what is written here will bring your heart greater peace; for this message is but an offering of my soul to yours.
Now, I must give credit where credit is due. All the thought this message contains, though it may be uniquely expressed, is not in the least letter original. How could it be? How could I possibly trace the derivatives of thought to which I have at this moment arrived? Can the water of the sea trace its origin, by droplets, to the river or cloud? Can the grains of sand on the shore reassemble themselves to form the rocks they once were?So I ascribe my thoughts to the comprehension and consciousness of greater humanity into which I have been assumed. Although I divest my self of originality, I do adhere to a claim of self-expression in the presentation of my thoughts; which may render them, if not unique, at least curious.
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