The Joy That Flies

 

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy
He who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity’s sunrise

                                                                  ~”Eternity” William Blake

The contrast between the accepting the transient joys of life for what they are and opening oneself to the renewal of eternity functions as the key to unlocking this quatrain. However, most of us still fumble outside in the cold with the keys, always inserting the wrong one first.  The paradox that unravels if we gently tease it out–no need to be boorish with the truth (it can speak for itself): to the degree that we can accept the everyday joys or the joys that completely catch us off guard, forcing us to deactivate our psychological home defense security systems–if for only a few hours over coffee, and then allow them to fly when ready, to this degree will we be open to what remains over the horizon, as illuminated by the sun.

If we try to hold onto them, though, we ground not only ourselves but all those we try to hold. As fireflies should not be stuffed in jars, winged life should be grounded but allowed to fulfill its ontological and mythical destiny: to fly with joy.

But, goddamn, this is much easier typed than done.

 

 

About Bourbon Apocalypse: A Whiskey Son of Sorrow

"If you can't annoy somebody, there's little point in writing." ~ Kingsley Amis
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