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158
Adventures in Contentment
·
David Grayson
2
All
these
things
happened
in
cities
and
among
crowds.
I
like
to
forget
them.
They
smack
of
that
slavery
of
the
spirit
which
is
so
much
worse
than
any
mere
slavery
of
the
body.
One
day--it
was
in
April,
I
remember,
and
the
soft
maples
in
the
city
park
were
just
beginning
to
blossom--I
stopped
suddenly.
I
did
not
intend
to
stop.
I
confess
in
humiliation
that
it
was
no
courage,
no
will
of
my
own.
I
intended
to
go
on
toward
Success:
but
Fate
stopped
me.
It
was
as
if
I
had
been
thrown
violently
from
a
moving
planet:
all
the
universe
streamed
around
me
and
past
me.
It
seemed
to
me
that
of
all
animate
creation,
I
was
the
only
thing
that
was
still
or
silent.
Until
I
stopped
I
had
not
known
the
pace
I
ran;
and
I
had
a
vague
sympathy
and
understanding,
never
felt
before,
for
those
who
left
the
running.
I
lay
prostrate
with
fever
and
close
to
death
for
weeks
and
watched
the
world
go
by:
the
dust,
the
noise,
the
very
colour
of
haste.
The
only
sharp
pang
that
I
suffered
was
the
feeling
that
I
should
be
broken-hearted
and
that
I
was
not;
that
I
should
care
and
that
I
did
not.
It
was
as
though
I
had
died
and
escaped
all
further
responsibility.
I
even
watched
with
dim
equanimity
my
friends
racing
past
me,
panting
as
they
ran.
Some
of
them
paused
an
instant
to
comfort
me
where
I
lay,
but
I
could
see
that
their
minds
were
still
upon
the
running
and
I
was
glad
when
they
went
away.
I
cannot
tell
with
what
weariness
their
haste
oppressed
me.
As
for
them,
they
somehow
blamed
me
for
dropping
out.
I
knew.
Until
we
ourselves
understand,
we
accept
no
excuse
from
the
man
who
stops.
While
I
felt
it
all,
I
was
not
bitter.
I
did
not
seem
to
care.
I
said
to
myself:
"This
is
Unfitness.
I
survive
no
longer.
So
be
it."
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