The most we can do is to write — intelligently, creatively, evocatively — about what it is like living in the world at this time. — Oliver Sacks
It is a blessing for me to have this time and this place to share so many warm encounters with the artist, musicians, poets, writers, thinkers and all people who inspire others to dream with an unlimited imagination. To think outside the often narrow confines society constructs for us in which to function and live. …
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It is one of those early rainy mornings that I love as much as the warm sunny mornings which also awaken my heart. I just returned from a rather long stroll through he gardens and to the other side of the lake. Along the way I encountered many of our wonderful guest. I am very …
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It is late afternoon as I wonder through the Great Hall and into one of our many gardens on the property where I sit down on the small bench under the large oak tree to ponder my talk for this evening. My guests have asked me to speak to the topic of why we fear …
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It is one of those quiet, rainy mornings. I do not know why but I have been thinking about my brother a good deal recently. We were never close during our childhoods. We were separated in age by only three years but it often seemed a much wider period of time. We had not spoken …
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I am in the north wing of the library also known as the Mythology Wing. One could spend a life time in the stacks here and not even begin to turn the page of what is historically available. I need to do a bit of research on Hera, the wife of Zeus whose name came …
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Book II Chapter Eleven — Henry David Thoreau Today is one of those misty mornings when most of the guests here at the Inn of Inspiration choose to remain in bed a bit longer or arrange for a late coffee or breakfast with friends. I on the other hand, after donning my rain gear and …
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Book II Chapter Ten — Carl Edward Sagan It is another beautiful morning here on the grounds of the Inn of Inspiration. One of life’s great joys is being in an environment of inspired individuals. It does not matter that we agree on everything or anything for that matter. It matters only that we follow …
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Book II Chapter Nine — Maya Angelou It is another beautiful morning. It feels like a Sunday but I am unsure, and besides it does not matter here. Each time I open these massive doors and enter the library, I feel as if I am about to embark on another fabulous adventure. We added a …
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Book II Chapter Eight — Bertrand Russell I spend most of my nights here in what has become known as Socrates’ Cave. I love falling into sleep and awakening here to the sounds of the stream, birds and the occassional barking dog. In my deepest imagination I could not imagine a better place to be. …
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Book II Chapter Seven — Iris Murdoch It is one of those mornings where one knows everything is perfect. It is the acceptance of this fact which aids in the growth and development of inspiration. When I know the perfect exists in everything, I can create without either judgement, fear, or shame. The imperfect does …
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Book II Chapter Six — Albert Einstein The property here is surrounded by snow covered mountains glistening in the gentle rising of the sun. I am making my way to the highest point of the range at around 12000 feet. This journey is one of my periodic rituals to watch the sun glow beneath the …
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Book II Chapter Five — Seneca “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.” These were Seneca’s parting words to me the first time we met here at the Inn Of Inspiration. I have pondered them oven in my head often since then. I am walking to the far shore of the lake where …
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Book II Chapter Four — Martin L King I sit in quiet meditation looking out from my space at the trees and greenery around me, the river, the peacefulness of being. I have no need to know what day or time it is as neither has any relevance to existence here. If only the world …
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Book II Chapter Three —Susan Sontag It is raining this morning, what some people might refer to as dreary, but I cherish these moments of solitude, walking to the rhythm of the soft falling rain. There is a lightness to my step and joy in my soul as if some hidden burden had been lifted. …
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Book II Chapter Two — Gaston Bachelard I am in a somewhat bewildered state this morning as I walk through the garden and past the lake toward the hot springs. It feels like a Sunday morning so it must be, but I have no way of knowing as time does not exist here. I know …
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Book II Chapter One — Oliver Sacks I am relaxing in quiet meditation in my cave, soaking in the waters of the hot spring. I have decided to make this cave my home-space and entertain my guests here. I will continue to use my office at the Inn for GateKeeper business. After all, everyone here …
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Chapter Sixteen — Mary Oliver “Good morning Ms Oliver. May I address you as Mary?” “Yes. Please do, Mr…?” “My name is Socrates Black, but please call me Socrates. Welcome to the Inn Of Inspiration. I am the Gate Keeper and the one who invited you here. I know you have many questions and I …
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Chapter Fifteen — Steve Jobs I walk out into the garden. The white Easter Lillys are in full display swaying gently in the warm breeze. The small creek is full of tadpoles anxious to become frogs and turtles who bask in the sun on an old fallen tree branch. I notice Steve Jobs sitting quietly …
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Chapter Fourteen — William Blake One of my everyday joys is walking around the lake. The grey cobblestoned trail is the equivalent of the yellow brick road. It carries my body wherever my thoughts wish to take me. This walking meditation awakens me to the new and unfamiliar parts of my being. I asked the …
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Chapter Thirteen — Virginia Woolf William and I are walking toward the massive front doors of the Library when a hand softly grabs my arm from behind. “Socrates. Might you have a moment?” I turn to see Virginia Woolf standing stunningly behind me with a stack of books under one arm, but before I can …
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Chapter Twelve — William James I am taking a leisurely stroll through the garden to the west wing of the Inn, still unable to put words to my other worldly dragon experience with Ursula. The morning fog still holds the intoxicating scent of the night blooming cactus as the rays of the sun change the mist into …
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Chapter Eleven — Ursula K Le Guin Sometimes in the early hours of the day I like to hike the forest trails surrounding the property. There is something special about watching the sun rising through the branches of trees from the floor of the forest. I see life being regenerated in everything, from the opening …
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Chapter Ten — May Sarton This morning I am walking along the path around the lake. It is a beautiful Spring day. The sun is already warming the dew air. I see Henry and Jimmy relaxing in the hot springs. They wave me over, but I wave back and keep walking. As exciting and open …
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Chapter Nine — Henry Miller “Good evening, Socrates. I am looking for June. Have you seen her?” “We were with each other earlier Henry. She had asked me to assist her in finding you and Anaïs. Then the music started and June wanted to dance. She left after a few dances to look for you. …
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Chapter Eight — James Baldwin “Good morning Jimmy. Are they bitting today?” “O’ Good morning Socrates. Yes, they are. I like to put a piece of bread on the end of the string and feed them. They provide me with a sense of communication, poetry in the nibbling. There is no hook so the fish …
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Chapter Seven — Stanley Kunitz I see a note on top of the front desk from Stanley Kunitz asking me to visit him in his suite when the opportunity permits itself. I love my visits to the guest’s suites. Each is the inspirational creation of the owner. Most contain furniture and artifacts from the guest’s …
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Chapter Six — Simone de Beauvoir “Socrates. Would you mind if we took a stroll into the garden? I would love some fresh air and stars.” “Everything you can imagine is here for you at the Inn my dear lady.” Simone takes Socrates by the arm and the two leave the ornate grander of the …
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Chapter Five — Simone Weil “Do not worry Simone. Philosophers tend to be patient individuals. Allen and I will continue our conversation another time. You seem a bit perplexed. How may I be of service? “Perhaps that is the issue Socrates. Everyone tells me to be patient but I am tired of the injustices which …
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Chapter Four — Alan Watts I take Emily to the table where Simone Weil and Anaïs Nin are seated. They both welcome us to join them but I see Alan Watts across the room gesturing for me to come over. I excuse myself promising to return before the gathering ends and I join Alan at …
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Chapter Three — Emily Dickinson She sits quietly across the pond in Monet’s Garden atrium, straight back posture on a bench without a back. She is plain in a visual sense, except for the red streaks in her auburn hair. She is dressed in a white cotton dress. As I approach, I hear her repeating …
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Chapter Two — Rainer Maria Rilke “Yes, there is always time here. That is one on the amenities of the Inn. There is always enough time to do whatever you wish. The passage of time no longer exists at this Inn.” “Where did we leave off? I remember, you were telling me about a number …
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I walk around the desk to escort Anaïs to her suite. The guests have no need for luggage as their favorite articles of clothing, books, and art are all provided just by their thoughts. The suites are modeled on the guest’s favorite living spaces during their earthly existence and opens to a shared courtyard garden …
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Introduction – Socrates Black The bell ringed to notify me someone was at the front desk. Out of habit, I glanced at the calendar for the date. It was January 14, 1977. Not that the date mattered so much here, but it does give some indication of who might be arriving this evening. I have …
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Transformation literally means going beyond your form. — Wayne Dyer
When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the area of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses... We must never forget that art is not a form of propaganda; it is a form of truth. — John F. Kennedy
...If one looks long enough at almost anything, looks with absolute attention at a flower, a stone, the bark of a tree, grass, snow, a cloud, something like revelation takes place. — May Sarton
The truest philosophy, is not to long for anything in particular, but to accept everything as it comes, and find out the reason of it coming. — Marie Corelli
The most we can do is to write — intelligently, creatively, evocatively — about what it is like living in the world at this time. — Oliver Sacks
