Chapters
Dear Reader,
What subtleties separate pilgrim from explorer, adventurer or the guys who say, “I’ll go along with the crowd, make it a pitcher.” Real writers don’t mess around with words like this, they have a story to tell and like a drunken Irishman the words spill out like an overturned pint. The words are born with all the effort of a hand gesture. Philosophers, on the other hand, worry their words to death, like a cat with a mouse. Their words are born by breech birth; it’s just not natural.
I am wrapping myself in the robe of “Pilgrimosopher,” not because the robe fits, but because it doesn’t. It’s way too big, big enough to hide my old habits that begin with P but sound like F: physicist, photographer, pharmer, philanthropist … none of which suggest the skills necessary to guide us on a journey to the heart of the human predicament. What we need here is not really a guide, but a companion who is a writer.
