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Open: Peradam

Once again Pierre Sogol set an example - without knowing it and without suspecting that the poet in him was coming out. One evening when we had just finished a consultation on the beach with the head porter and the donkey driver, Sogol began to speak.

"I have brought you this far, and I have been your leader. Right here I’ll take off the cap of authority, which was a crown of thorns for the person I remember myself to be. Far within me, where the memory of what I am is still unclouded, a little child is waking up and making an old man’s mask weep. A little child looking for mother and father, looking with you for protection and help - protection from his pleasures and his dreams, and help in order to become what he is without imitating anyone.”

As he spoke, Pierre had been delving in the sand with the point of his stick. Suddenly his eyes froze, he bent down and picked something up - something which shone like a tiny dewdrop. It was a peradam, a small one, but the first for any of us.

Rene Daumal, Mount Analogue 1952

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