I’m re-reading one of my favorite authors: G.K. Chesterton. In Orthodoxy, the popular nineteenth-century journalist notes how trying to be original is an impossible pursuit.
I did, like all other solemn little boys, little boys, try to be in advance of the age. Like them I tried to be some ten minutes in advance of the truth. And I found that I was eighteen hundred years behind it. I did strain my voice with a painfully juvenile exaggeration in uttering my truths. And I was punished in the fittest and funniest way, for I have kept my truths: but I have discovered, not that they were not truths, but simply that they were not mine. When I fancied that I stood alone I was really in the ridiculous position of being backed up by all Christendom. It may be, Heaven forgive me, that I did try to be original; but I only succeeded in inventing all by myself an inferior copy of the existing traditions of civilized religion.
Yep, I can say or write something in, perhaps, an original manner, but as the world’s wisest man noted, “There’s nothing new under the sun.” (And, at the time, that proverb probably wasn’t original.)
9 am Cancer countdown: Just six radiation treatments to go!