Artist: Ann Blockley |
Anyway, here's a small passage which talks about those who love to talk and think and devise plans for something they'd like to do/create/discover, but when it comes down to it, never actually do the doing/creating/discovering. To illustrate the point, Michael Michalko transcribes a parable by Søren Aabye Kierkegaard (1813-1855):
Art by Lucy Newton |
"I tell you, there is another and a greater world outside, a world of which we are only dimly aware. Our forefathers knew of this world. For dd they not stretch their wings and fly across the trackless wastes of desert and ocean, of green valley and wooded hill? But alas, here we remain in this barnyard, our wings folded and tucked into our sides, as we are content to puddle in the mud, never lifting our eyes to the heavens, which should be our home."
These geese thought this was very fine lecturing. "How poetical," they thought. "How profoundly existential. What a flawless summary of the mystery of existence."
Often the philosopher spoke of the advantages of flight, calling on the geese to be what they were. After all, they had wings, he pointed out. What were wings for, but to fly with?
Elegance in flight, by Art LaMay |
But one thing they never did. They did not fly! For the corn was good, and the barnyard was secure."
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