The Proud, Purgatorio

Canto X .139

"piangendo parea dicer: 'Più non posso'."

"weeping he seemed to say: 'I can no more.'"

When the samskaras rise and the troubles of the world build, like the Proud of Dantes' Purgatory, the weight becomes unbearable.

Suffocation, buried... clawing to get free. I now fully understand why many creative spirits cannot live "normal" lives...for the drive & passion over this thing that dwells within - this motivation of expression - this sense of purpose beyond mere existence - is all consuming.

We are the ones who do not flow evenly in the river of daily life. In fact most people are oblivious to the fact that they are even in the river. Born in the calm pools, we flow from the stream to the brook, which seemlessly becomes the lazy river. But water is not always calm in the river and there are many tributaries to take. Along the way, some are pulled under & drown, or crash upon the rocks. Many survive but are scarred or ruined. Too few, paddle to the side to watch along the way...to attempt to gain a vantage point to see where the river leads...gain a perspective. Which tributary to navigate? Which way to the sea? ...to the end of ones' life, where we melt away into the unknown.

One must ask, what does he hope to see along this one way journey in the River of Life? Which tributaries has he chosen? Which way will he choose today? Did he find his way to the bank to watch for a while or did he simply float blindfolded and dumb?