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STOIC POETRY | The best seat in the house

Updated: Sep 4, 2021



I have long dreamed of a nice, personal room where I can work. A little office at home where I can set up a desk and chair and my stuff, a retreat where I can go and close the door and work on the things that matter to me. But now, I do not need that place—as nowhere is satisfactory for my work. My work can now be done no place better than here. And nothing is needed. My work requires no place and no thing, and no time even—as my work is now always being done wherever I am, and is always complete, whatever I do.

I once kept a small chair Below a desert bridge, A good place to sit When I began my work— But now, I do not need that chair My work being complete Though I am ever working

And so, I'll go back now into the desert to the bridge where my work began. And I'll recover that folding chair kept stashed in the rafters. And I will open it, and place it on the sand where I do, and maybe sit in it again and look out fifty miles across the desert sands, and remember how this was once my place to work, my personal room, my little office in the deep shade below Route 66, the place where I came to begin my work, and where I now work always, wherever I am, whatever I am doing, and whoever I may become.


I never needed that chair, nor that bridge, nor that desert; just like I never needed a little personal room where I could work, or any office at home where I could set up a desk and chair and my stuff; no retreat where I could go and close the door and work on the things that matter to me.


My work is now begun and complete at once and always wherever I am.


Whatever I am doing.


And whoever I may become.

 

My name is Kurt Bell.


You can learn more about The Good Life in my book Going Alone.


Be safe... But not too safe.


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