Thursday, April 30, 2009
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About Me
- Ken LaRive
- Alfred Tennyson wrote, “But what am I? An infant crying in the night? An infant crying for the light? And with no language but a cry!” Where does it come from, this deep seeded need, and the volition to put it in words? Growth is rewriting over the past, draft upon draft. The origin will seem like child’s play, and I’m quite sure that to continue onward from any point thereafter will seem primitive in retrospect. Yet, there may exist, the glimmer of a realized loss of ground, or the shocking realization that what was previously thought as fact or Truth, was after all, an assumption. There may even come a time when you may think that everything is finished. That will be the beginning. This life was given to us by God. We have no decision but to accept this gift freely. The choice comes in how we live it.
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