Train of Thought

After knowledge extinguished the last of the beautiful fires our worship had failed to prolong, we walked back home through pedestrian daylight, to a residence   humbler than the one left behind. A door without mystery, a room without theme . For the hour that we spend complacent at the window overlooking the garden,   we observe an arrangement in rust and gray-green, a vagueness at the center whose slow, persistent movements some sentence might explain if we had time   or strength for sentences. To admit that what falls falls solitarily, lost in the permanent dusk of the particular. That the mind that fear and disenchantment fatten   comes to boss the world around it, morbid as the damp- fingered guest who rearranges the cheeses the minute the host turns to fix her a cocktail . A disease of the will, the way   false birch branches arch and interlace from which hands dangle last leaf-parchments and a very large array of primitive bird-shapes. Their pasted feat...

 A word that I find beautiful is symphony. Symphony by itself rolls of the tongue like silk, and ironically, the sound is  the meaning. Symphony can be used to describe an orchestra or a compositional work, and within the word hide soaring melodies and trembling lows. As a little kid, I would often fall asleep to the sounds of my mom practicing for her next concert as a professional musician. The notes she played would work their way up the stairs and into my room, where they filled me with serenity and peace. Now as an adult (technically), the word symphony brings me back to the magic and wonder only a child's eye can see, and I get part of the same serenity I fell asleep to oh so many times growing up. Now as a musician myself, symphony also reminds me of the nerves that always return before a big solo, the anticipation of wanting to deliver the same quality I listened to as a kid. I find moist an ugly word, as it somehow reminds me of a dark, dank basement. Whereas symphony...

      In my book club book, Demian, the main character is influenced by multiple parties. The most obvious mentor shares the name of the book, and is shrouded in mystery. A different character, Franz Kromer, could also be seen as a mentor, however Kromer drags him in a negative direction. This led to me realizing that a mentor isn't always necessarily a good influence, and the importance in being able to distinguish the two. In the book, Kromer is an obvious negative influence, and is even associated with the "forbidden" realm rather than the bright and innocent one Sinclair was raised in. In the real world however, the influence people have on us isn't always as black and white. In our desire to fit in, we often associate with people who don't have our best interest in mind, and we become distracted from our path to success. Like Sinclair who just wanted to show off to the other boys, trying to fit the mold at all costs can cause consequences. At the same time, f...