This trek to True Nothing is the original ‘Spiritual Path’. Most people never get there, stop short, and announce that they have found ‘God’ or some localized variant as generously proffered by modern Universities and Research Houses [we’ll look at plenty, further on].
And the rounded methods of Desirelessness and Detachment and ‘Dying to Yourself’ are not just applicable to the Moral Track, to the pursuit of a Divinitas.
They are equally applicable to all Intellectual Tracks and especially applicable to those of us who protest too much.
‘Spiritual Path’: I recoil at the phrase having seen it grotesquely misused so many times. But I’ll suffer it for now.
I had little trouble finding my way regularly to the Hemingway Bar at the Paris Ritz in my glitzier youth when I was making a lot of money. Can’t afford it anymore. That path was truly spiritual.
Writing about Paris and my Springtime rouses remembrances of some extraordinary women I knew; and one I didn’t.
She helped do for Classical Dance what Picasso did for Realistic Art. [Living contemporaneously and close, between Nice and Paris].
Along with Ruth St. Denis and others, she offered the viewer a new way of ‘Seeing’.
Isadora was killed when her hand-painted silk scarf was caught in the wheels of her convertible. She was being driven along the Riviera for an evening of champagne and caviar. [As a young man, I shared a rented summer house nearby, overlooking the sea.]
A Dance at death as unguarded and riveting as those in life.