This is the secret. You must step back, separate yourself from your everyday thoughts and habitual gestures: look at them. It is patient work, like the work of the watchmaker who observes the spirals and gears under the lens, cleans and calibrates. The secret is to retreat deep into oneself until one encounters an almost imperceptible vibration, which then becomes more and more evident, a silent, separate, calm vibration. Those who anchor themselves in this possess serenity all day long.
Is it possible to see the future as dark and darkening further; to reject false hope and
desperate pseudo-optimism without collapsing into despair?...if you don't feel despair, in
times like these, you are not fully alive. But there has to be something beyond despair,
too; or rather, something that accompanies it, like a companion on the road....I am
going to pick up [my scythe] and go and find some grass to mow. I am going to cut
great swaths of it...I am going to walk ahead, following the ground... I am going to
breathe the still-clean air and listen to the still-singing birds and reflect on the fact that
the earth is older and harder than the machine that is eating it—that it is indeed more
resilient than fragile—and that change comes quickly when it comes, and that
knowledge is not the same as wisdom.