| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Odyssey by Homer: she throws herself on the body of her husband who has fallen
before his own city and people, fighting bravely in defence of
his home and children. She screams aloud and flings her arms
about him as he lies gasping for breath and dying, but her
enemies beat her from behind about the back and shoulders, and
carry her off into slavery, to a life of labour and sorrow, and
the beauty fades from her cheeks--even so piteously did Ulysses
weep, but none of those present perceived his tears except
Alcinous, who was sitting near him, and could hear the sobs and
sighs that he was heaving. The king, therefore, at once rose and
said:
The Odyssey |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Beyond Good and Evil by Friedrich Nietzsche: expands himself sensitively, so that even the light footsteps and
gliding-past of spiritual beings may not be lost on his surface
and film Whatever "personality" he still possesses seems to him
accidental, arbitrary, or still oftener, disturbing, so much has
he come to regard himself as the passage and reflection of
outside forms and events He calls up the recollection of
"himself" with an effort, and not infrequently wrongly, he
readily confounds himself with other persons, he makes mistakes
with regard to his own needs, and here only is he unrefined and
negligent Perhaps he is troubled about the health, or the
pettiness and confined atmosphere of wife and friend, or the lack
Beyond Good and Evil |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from The Ruling Passion by Henry van Dyke: for him. There was something in his disposition that seemed to fit
him for just the role that was vacant in the social drama of the
settlement. It was not a serious, important, responsible part, like
that of a farmer, or a store-keeper, or a professional hunter. It
was rather an addition to the regular programme of existence,
something unannounced and voluntary, and therefore not weighted with
too heavy responsibilities. There was a touch of the transient and
uncertain about it. He seemed like a perpetual visitor; and yet he
stayed on as steadily as a native, never showing, from the first,
the slightest wish or intention to leave the woodland village.
I do not mean that he was an idler. Bytown had not yet arrived at
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