“Paul’s Safari into Miami’s History” Oct. 5, 2016
BEING a “visionary” can’t be as easy as it might seem, years after the fact.
One occupational hazard that can almost certainly be anticipated is being thought of as “crazy as a loon,” or dismissed out-of-hand as an utter “whack job.” Which probably wouldn’t be so bothersome, or sting quite so sharply, had you not first spent considerable time wrestling with those very questions, yourself.
The only true visionaries that don’t at times seriously question their mental stability, when another dark lonesome season is suddenly upon them, or during the restless stretching hours when they’ve finally laid down their heads, praying only for sleep before the coming of the weary dawn, are those who’ve already gone nuts, no longer troubled by a web-thin connection to frail reason, and its outrageous demands.
Say a prayer for the “visionary,” however his or her state of mind might be labeled by the expert. The world would be a much less colorful place, and considerably smaller, for not having had them in it.