Roxanne Doron

I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

I can't decide whether self awareness is a source of energy or of impotence. My real self is anti-social -- a lunatic chained in a basement, grunting and pounding on the floor, while the rest of my family, sits upstaires ignoring the tumult. I don't know what to do with my lunatic -- destroy him, keep him lock in the cellar, or set him free.

But I have also realized that, however mystical, no church and no sacrement can protect me against the ultimate threat to my vital existence: losing the sense of my own being.

My past is the only firmament worth knowing, and I am its sole star. It is as haunting and mysterious as the sky overhead, and as impossible to discard.

There must be a place beyond words -- a place of pure existence -- to which I wish I could return.

In the eyes of the world... I am an average man. But to my heart I am not an average man. To my heart I am of great moment. The challenge I face is how to actualize, how to concretize, the quite emminence of my being.

Beyond all agony and anxiety lies the most important ingredient of self-reflection: the preciousness of my own existence...and I resist the thought of gambling away its meaning.