Finis

Well, it's finished. The greatest Roman work of literature has been read by me. An entire new dimension has been mapped out for me, my lens has been upgraded. As I read great stories, rather than pick them apart and identify devices and techniques, I tend to let the story saturate and overpower me to the point of disconnection from reality. That's how movies and books are meant to be enjoyed. As I've read Virgil's Aeneid, I have felt that I am the hero of the story. The confusions and tasks and solutions are mine. I struggle as Aeneas struggles, just as I did with Odysseus. Now tonight, I have finished the Aeneid, and have emerged, once again, from the calamities a calm and quiet spirit. The familiarity is what excites me, because I remember the change Homer's Odyssey produced upon completion of the opus. Some may recall the feeling after he finished reading/ watching Fight Club. Anyway, Turnus is dead, Juno tamed, and the forces of furor impius have been obliterated, and will have stayed imprisoned in the depths of man's psyche until the turn of the millennium, when the Roman republic fell.

This leaves bare the next point of focus: me. Foremost are three wonderful Christmas ideas: tea, socks, and cake rolls. The Christmas feeling is present, which generally brings Happiness. Other than that, my current disposition is that of, surprisingly, Aeneas of Book XII, which is dangerous, as I have accomplished nothing of note. The minutes stretch and distort as if resisting the pull of time, yet the days to graduation are as fleeting and evanescent as they've ever been in my entire life. This parallels Book XII, as does my increasing feeling that the ceiling is getting heavier, and the walls groan from the weight, threatening to give way. I however, won't give way, and this is reinforced by this morning's dream. In it, I stand, unaided, against the evil forces that, like Lincoln, no one sees. I will never be rewarded, which is not what this is all about. As I have said and will say, I live for the times where instincts rule and cooler heads prevail. Many have tried to confuse and force unwanted hesitation and questioning to overtake me, but I am rich in unity. Oneness is the only true bliss... for the living. I leave you with something near and dear.

WAITING
John Burroughs (1837-1921)

SERENE, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
For, lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it hath sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.