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Conscious living requiring deep insight into the social psychography of one’s surrounding world and life. 

It seems possible this afternoon, though it is not yet properly summer, that I may at least have conversation with a storm. 

Goethe. Vicenza, 19 Sept. [1786]

Helps reconcile me to most of my “hometown” friends, as well as observations in every state in my 89-day trip across the USA and back.

Depth of mind, soul, character, spirit… are in the realities unAmerican.

Artificial Idiocy

So, a “Steppenwolf” must needs come to a rejection of not only the group-shared assumptions of an adequate and pleasant day, but the mental inheritance of the sense of Time, drozy meanings of Life in Time, and Nature as a mere decorative location.

… and an acceptance of inescapable, deep aloneliness.

All necessitating the assertions of a solitary entelechy. And the solitary assertions of an eentelechy.

And how can this not but be a kind of wounded state of life…daily life. Even – perhaps, especially – alone for hours during nights. Enduring vigils no other one knows.

But at least some times dark storms come.

JvG’s relation to Nature, as mine to History.

The inherited assumption that a day, the inner day,, should somehow of itself be acceptable, even pleasant, is one this Steppenwolf need consciously surpass.

*nice – from ne- “not” (from PIE root *ne- “not”) + stem of scire “to know” (see science).

Those millions in America still not perceiving his unfitness for office confirm their unfitness for democracy.

From a higher perspective – if one may imagine being able so to think – it was not what Goethe did all along his life’s way, than what he had become by, at and after his end.

Entelechy.