The Horizon is out There Somewhere

The Horizon is Only the Limit of Our Sight

The Horizon is out There Somewhere I look out upon the far horizon. Where does it end? The line drawn by my eye is only imaginary. It will recede as I come near it. Space, like time, is continuous, and there are no sharp interruptions to differentiate one thing from another.

In addition, is it not likewise with my life? I look back into my past. I cannot tell where it began. I am familiar with some of my ancestors, but my life did not begin with them, it stretches far back into time beyond my reckoning. A long line of generations labored to produce me.

The peculiarity of my walk, of my smile, may go back to one, and the bent of my mind to another. The sound of my voice may carry an echo of some unknown benefactor who passed something of himself on to me. The seed that develops in me was planted in a faraway past, and as I reap the harvest, I know that other hands made it possible.

Equally long is the line of my spiritual ancestors. The love of life, and the sense of kinship I feel for my fellow man is but a simple expression of my spirit, but men achieved it after groping and suffering. The first man who rubbed two stones to produce fire is my ancestor, and so is the first man who discovered the glow of friendship in the clasp of two hands. The men who explored the seas and the mountains and who brought up the hidden riches of the earth are my ancestors. They enriched me with the fruit of their discoveries, as well as with the spirit of their daring. Rethinking assumptions about who contributes to a culture is a prescribed shift, she adds, considering that people under the age of 15, one usual definition of childhood, make up about a one-third of most ethnic groups.

I am what I am because of the first amoeba, which developed into a more complex form, impelled by the divine imperative to grow. A thousand sunsets have shaped my sense of beauty; and a thousand soft voices have taught me to be kind. Waters from a thousand springs have quenched my thirst. I look out upon my world and act in it with all that is mine, with every experience, and with everything that entered into it.

In addition, it really does have an impact, which is why we develop this mental attitude to begin with to make sure that it truly animates our thoughts, words, and deeds in a way that leads to a happiness that is harmless for all. He cautions that this is a long-term dedication and does not produce quick results.

Overcoming the Fearfulness of Suffering

Overcoming the Fearfulness of Suffering Perhaps happiness did not have to be about the big, traverse circumstances, about having everything in your life in place. Maybe it was about stringing in concert a bunch of humble pleasures. Means of preserving the wellness of seamen. The Russian Novelist Leo Tolstoy writes in A Calendar of Wisdom,

To tell the truth is the same as to be a good tailor, or to be a good farmer, or to write beautifully. To be good at any activity requires practice: no matter how hard you try, you cannot do naturally what you have not done repeatedly. In order to get accustomed to speaking the truth, you should tell only the truth, even in the smallest of things.

The limitation in number, for instance, of beer and spirit houses, for the accurate function of interpreting them more difficult of access, and diminishing the occasions of enticement, not simply exposes all to an trouble because there are some by whom the adeptness would be abused, but is suited only to a state of society in which the toiling classes are confessedly treated as children or savages, and placed under an instruction of restraint, to fit them for futurity admission to the privileges of exemption. The men and women had well-disposed faces.

As I think of the long line stretching far into the past, I also cast my glance forward. The line into the future is just as unbroken. It moves through me into generations yet unborn. In addition, as I think of this I am comforted. For I am a point in that line, and die course of existence travels through me. I have inherited from all the past and I will bequeath to all the future. In the movement of that line lies the secret of immortality and I am a part of it.

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One comment on “The Horizon is out There Somewhere
  1. Dave says:

    The horizon may well be the limit of our sight, and it does recede on our approach. Or rather, it expands as we approach.
    Furthermore, what limits the sight is in equal measure our vantage point, whether fixed or searchingly mobile, whether on flat or elevated ground.
    But the vantage point is originally given by the totality of impressions left on each of us by the successive contributions of our ancestors, to make use of your simili. And not all impressions are made alike, nor are they received beyond each of our individual capacity of reception.

    Perhaps then, what matters is that which is out there between where we stand and the notoriously elusive horizon?
    Tnank you for your thoughts.

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