*"Maybe that’s enlightenment enough: to know that there is no final resting place of the mind; no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom...is realizing how small I am, and unwise,
and how far I have yet to go.”*
– Anthony Bourdain,
No Reservations
~~~~
and how far I have yet to go
slowly (ha!) the new day’s embrace,
familiar yet heavenly scented fresh,
brings with a smile of
realization ~
this voyage of exploration,
of the waters that liquefying my
heart, my body, my consciousness,
their sweet, their salty, their brackish
intermingling, intertwining.
absystem of flows,
will never succumb to my
successful interloping interpolation
of my
and how far I have yet to go!
is this wisdom?
is this surrender?
is
the task too great, or
perhaps, forever never
constant changing,
water coursing
eroding, swathing,
cutting, drawing,
new paths, new river bends,
completion a day too far?
Bourdain’s admission,
even confession, of how small we are,
his smug clarity, a typicalsimple human foolishness,
and how the task’s enormity to even
consider how
one could think that one could bridge the grand canyons,
cut open by forebears lives inherited,
the thought processes in my genes,
successors to a thousand predecessors
who each custom crafted their ganglia’s additions,
tiny impressions that meld and mold,
who I am,
never asking who, who
do I want to be,
and how to make aeself renew,
different, yet adding to the revolutions of evolution,
that crafted the who and the whom
the child, this old man,
their straining cries and lies
to justify the
who was I
and
how far I traveled
how far I have yet to travel,
how small, how great,
how I grew wiser,
wise enough to know
to see clear
the geography of yourself,
is a planet’s surface,
erupting
redrawing, and
I, traveler
mapper,
of unexplored territories,
wisely admitted to my unwisdom,
this journey never ends,
and though we craft, draft
different conclusionaries,
we are not the one who will
write the correct one…
2:10pm Thu. Dec.11
2025
nyc
<nml>
'''''''
Dec 11, 2025
Dec 11, 2025 at 2:16 PM UTC
*"Maybe that’s enlightenment enough: to know that there is no final resting place of the mind; no moment of smug clarity. Perhaps wisdom...is realizing how small I am, and unwise,
and how far I have yet to go.”*
– Anthony Bourdain,
No Reservations
~~~~
and how far I have yet to go
slowly (ha!) the new day’s embrace,
familiar yet heavenly scented fresh,
brings with a smile of
realization ~
this voyage of exploration,
of the waters that liquefying my
heart, my body, my consciousness,
their sweet, their salty, their brackish
intermingling, intertwining.
absystem of flows,
will never succumb to my
successful interloping interpolation
of my
and how far I have yet to go!
is this wisdom?
is this surrender?
is
the task too great, or
perhaps, forever never
constant changing,
water coursing
eroding, swathing,
cutting, drawing,
new paths, new river bends,
completion a day too far?
Bourdain’s admission,
even confession, of how small we are,
his smug clarity, a typicalsimple human foolishness,
and how the task’s enormity to even
consider how
one could think that one could bridge the grand canyons,
cut open by forebears lives inherited,
the thought processes in my genes,
successors to a thousand predecessors
who each custom crafted their ganglia’s additions,
tiny impressions that meld and mold,
who I am,
never asking who, who
do I want to be,
and how to make aeself renew,
different, yet adding to the revolutions of evolution,
that crafted the who and the whom
the child, this old man,
their straining cries and lies
to justify the
who was I
and
how far I traveled
how far I have yet to travel,
how small, how great,
how I grew wiser,
wise enough to know
to see clear
the geography of yourself,
is a planet’s surface,
erupting
redrawing, and
I, traveler
mapper,
of unexplored territories,
wisely admitted to my unwisdom,
this journey never ends,
and though we craft, draft
different conclusionaries,
we are not the one who will
write the correct one…
2:10pm Thu. Dec.11
2025
nyc
<nml>
'''''''
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