New Beginnings and Rebirth

The child is innocence and forgetting, a new beginning, a game, a self-rolling wheel, a first movement, a sacred Yes.

We, the rescued, Beg you: Show us your sun, but gradually. Lead us from star to star, step by step. Be gentle when you teach us to live again. 2

For this is action, this not being sure, this careless Preparing, sowing the seeds crooked in the furrow, Making ready to forget, and always coming back To the mooring of starting out, that day so long ago.

Still round the corner there may wait,
A new road or a secret gate. J. R. R.

Elle est retrouvée .

To joyously savor one single instant of initial life I seek an innocent country 1

Come, my friends. ’Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

 

Small opportunities are often the beginning of great enterprises.

Life is a dream from which we must wake before we can dream again.

 

Out of the wreck I rise.

Now at last I have come to see what life is, / Nothing is ever ended, everything only begun, / And the brave victories that seem so splendid / Are never really won.

I have become my own version of an optimist. If I can't make it through one door, I'll go through another door - or I'll make a door. Something terrific will come no matter how dark the present.

I am an idealist. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way.

No other road, no other way, no day but today.

 

a hopeless case if—listen: there’s a hell of a good universe next door; let’s go

Piece by piece I seem to re-enter the world.

I was born in the city of Bombay . . . once upon a time. No, that won’t do, there’s no getting away from the date: I was born in Doctor Narlikar’s Nursing Home on August 15th, 1947. . . . On the stroke of midnight, as a matter of fact.

Audacibus annue coeptis .

Every passing hour brings the Solar Systemforty-three thousand miles closer to GlobularCluster M13 in Hercules—and still there are some misfits who insist that there is no such thing as progress.

And if tonight my soul may find her peace In sleep, and sink in good oblivion, And in the morning wake like a new-opened flower Then I have been dipped again in God, and new-created.

And now in age I bud again, After so many deaths I live and write; I once more smell the dew and rain, And relish versing: O my only light, It cannot be That I am he On whom thy tempests fell all night.

The world’s great age begins anew,

That men may rise on stepping-stones

 

The limiting surface of one thing is the beginning of another.