“Ideals are mortal, so one should prepare oneself for their end: at the same time it probably costs you your neck. For do you not see that it was you who gave meaning, value, and effective force to your ideal? If you have become a sacrifice to the ideal, then the ideal cracks open, plays carnival with you, and goes to Hell on Ash Wednesday. The ideal is also a tool that once can put aside anytime, a torch on dark paths. But whoever runs around with a torch by day is a fool.”
— Carl Jung
I served a harsh master, the freedom to explore eternity without getting caught in the moment. I would move from instant to instant with time and space as my bitch. No idea would hold me long nor anyone’s heart a chain in my hand. I revelled in the understanding that the next adventure was always around the corner and I would embark as soon as the present one soured. The Fates laughed and started putting mousetraps and flypaper hoping to keep me in the moment yet I would fly free. Yet some traps cannot be escaped and soon even I found a life desirable. So my Master was forsaken and I stand here with those I love.
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