Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch Read Online Free PDF

preach or teach. You practice the perfect life—or you
     relapse.
    There seems to be an unwritten law here which insists that you accept what you
     find and like it, profit by it, or you are cast out. Nobody does the rejecting, please
     understand. Nobody, no group here, would crave such authority. No, the place itself, the
     elements which make it, do that. It’s the law, as I say. And it is a just law which works harm
     to no one. To the cynical-minded it may sound like the same old triumph of our dear status
     quo. But the enthusiast knows that it is precisely the fact that there is no status quo here
     which makes for its paradisiacal quality.
    No, the law operates because that which makes for paradise can not and will
     not assimilate that which makes for hell. How often it is said that we make our own heaven and
     our own hell. And how little it is taken to heart! Yet the truth prevails, whether we believe
     in it or not.
    Paradise or no paradise, I have the very definite impression that the people
     of this vicinity are striving to live up to the grandeur and nobility which is such an
     integral part of the setting. They behave as if it were a privilege to live here, as if it
     were by an act of grace they found themselves here. The place itself is so overwhelmingly
     bigger, greater, than anyone could hope to make it that it engenders a humility and reverence
     not frequently met with in Americans. There being nothing to improve on in the surroundings,
     the tendency is to set about improving oneself.
    It is of course true that individuals have undergone
     tremendous changes, broadened their vision, altered their natures, in hideous, thwarting
     surroundings—prisons, ghettos, concentration camps, and so on. Only a very rare individual
     elects to
remain
in such places. The man who has seen the light follows the light.
     And the light usually leads him to the place where he can function most effectively, that is,
     where he will be of most use to his fellow-men. In this sense, it matters little whether it be
     darkest Africa or the Himalayan heights. God’s work can be done anywhere, so to say.
    We have all met the soldier who has been overseas. And we all know that each
     one has a different story to relate. We are all like returned soldiers. We have all been
     somewhere, spiritually speaking, and we have either benefited by the experience or been
     worsted by it. One man says: “Never again!” Another says: “Let it come! I’m ready for
     anything!” Only the fool hopes to repeat an experience; the wise man knows that
every
experience is to be viewed as a blessing. Whatever we try to deny or reject is precisely what
     we have need of; it is our very need which often paralyzes us, prevents us from welcoming a
     (good or bad) experience.
    I come back once again to those individuals who came here full of needs and
     who fled after a time because “it” was not what they hoped to find, or because “they” were not
     what they thought themselves to be. None of them, from what I have learned, has yet found it
     or himself. Some returned to their former masters in the manner of slaves unable to support
     the privileges and responsibilities of freedom. Some found their way into mental retreats.
     Some became derelicts. Others simply surrendered to the villainous status quo.
    I speak as if they had been marked by the whip. I do not mean to be cruel or
     vindictive. What I wish to say quite simply is that none of them, in my humble opinion, is a
     whit happier, a whit better off, an inch advanced in any respect. They will all continue to
     talk about their Big Sur adventure for the rest of their lives—wistfully, regretfully, or
     elatedly, as occasion dictates. In the heartsof some, I know, is the
     profound hope that their children will display more courage, more perseverance, more integrity
     than they themselves did. But do they not overlook something? Are not their children, as the
     product of