Sunday, August 3, 2014


"No great idea can vanish, even if it never reaches public circulation, even if it has been 'taken to the grave.' In the light of such a law, the drama and tragedy of a man's inner life never have unfolded in vain, even when played out in secret, unrecorded, uncelebrated by any novelist. The 'novel' which each individual has lived remains an incomparably greater composition than any that has ever been written down. Every one of us knows somehow that the content of his life is somewhere preserved and saved. Thus time, the transitoriness of the years, cannot affect its meaning and value. Having been is also a kind of being--perhaps the surest kind. And all effective action in life may, in this view, appear as a salvaging of possibilities by actualizing them. Though past, these possibilities are now safely ensconced in the past for all eternity, and time can no longer change them"...

--Viktor Frankl, The Doctor & The Soul


  1. Gosh, I love that last picture.

  2. As a fellow convert sharing similar experiences, I’ve been following your blog for a few weeks now and your writing just keeps getting more interesting. Vicktor Frankl’s work, Man’s Search for Meaning, played a huge role in my intellectual and spiritual development.

  3. It is common that I get sad when I see a homeless person in an alley sleeping, say, in the middle of the day. Shoes all worn and filthy -clothes the same, and so tired they can't wake up. So exhausted or possibly drunk, that they aren't able to converse. It kills me inside.

    But the more I think of it, the more I meditate on the above words, the less pathetic it all becomes. Who am I anyway? Not God or a god certainly, no matter what the silly bumper stickers may say.

    And there is a judgment implicit in my sadness that says things shouldn't be this way. But why? By whose standards?

    What if that guy was so crappy (for whatever reason) to his wife and kids that he gave them peace and sanity by leaving, even though it hurt him beyond his strength. What if that anorexic prostitute, who calls to me from the entrance of an out of business storefront, really needs to eat that night -I won't help her the way she wants, and she is too wounded to tell the story of how she was born into a family that worshipped not God, but satan. And life for her is one great escape. Or the kid born into a drug family or the one whose mom knew nothing more than how to hurl abuse.

    Really, who am I to judge? Frankl's insight says pretty much everything I need to know, for our lives and everything they contain are held in the love of a most merciful God!


I WELCOME your comments!!!