Monday, July 28, 2008
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Upon waking when the dream is pleasant, I seek to recall Her. The more I tried to remember, the more the dream seemed to flee - much like my favorite creatures...the cat and, now, the butterfly. This dream re-appeared - not when I tried to recall it. She came when She wished to come. The free spirit of the dream, I am learning, is to be respected. A dream can grant wishes, but it does not speak the language of our demands of Her..for the dream is spontaneous creation. And, a dream that isn't would be just our pale reconstruction. And, there was never anything pale about this intense and wondrous dream. Take me into you, Dream. I'm ready to meet you just as I am, just as you are...just two presences seeking each other.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Remembrance of What is to Come
Preface to The Gay Science, Friedrich Nietzsche
Gratitude pours forth continually, as if the unexpected had just happened, the gratitude of a convalescent—for convalescence was unexpected. "Gay Science": that signifies the saturnalia of a spirit who has patiently resisted a terrible, long pressure—patiently, severely, coldly, without submitting, but also without hope—and who is now all at once attacked by hope, the hope for health, and the intoxication of convalescence. Is it any wonder that in the process much that is unreasonable and foolish comes to light, much playful tenderness that is lavished even on problems that have a prickly hide and are not made to be caressed and enticed? This whole book is nothing but a bit of merry-making after long privation and powerlessness, the rejoicing of strength that is returning, of a reawakened faith in a tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, of a sudden sense and anticipation of a future, of impending adventures, of seas that are open again, of goals that are permitted again, believed again. And what did not lie behind me then! This stretch of desert, exhaustion, disbelief, icing up in the midst of youth, this interlude of old age at the wrong time, this tyranny of pain even excelled by the tyranny of pride that refused the conclusions of pain—and conclusions are consolations—this radical retreat into solitude as a self-defense against a contempt for men that had become pathologically clairvoyant—this determined self-limitation to what was bitter, harsh, and hurtful to know, prescribed by the nausea that had gradually developed out of an incautious and pampering spiritual diet, called romanticism—oh, who could reexperience all of this?
Gratitude pours forth continually, as if the unexpected had just happened, the gratitude of a convalescent—for convalescence was unexpected. "Gay Science": that signifies the saturnalia of a spirit who has patiently resisted a terrible, long pressure—patiently, severely, coldly, without submitting, but also without hope—and who is now all at once attacked by hope, the hope for health, and the intoxication of convalescence. Is it any wonder that in the process much that is unreasonable and foolish comes to light, much playful tenderness that is lavished even on problems that have a prickly hide and are not made to be caressed and enticed? This whole book is nothing but a bit of merry-making after long privation and powerlessness, the rejoicing of strength that is returning, of a reawakened faith in a tomorrow and the day after tomorrow, of a sudden sense and anticipation of a future, of impending adventures, of seas that are open again, of goals that are permitted again, believed again. And what did not lie behind me then! This stretch of desert, exhaustion, disbelief, icing up in the midst of youth, this interlude of old age at the wrong time, this tyranny of pain even excelled by the tyranny of pride that refused the conclusions of pain—and conclusions are consolations—this radical retreat into solitude as a self-defense against a contempt for men that had become pathologically clairvoyant—this determined self-limitation to what was bitter, harsh, and hurtful to know, prescribed by the nausea that had gradually developed out of an incautious and pampering spiritual diet, called romanticism—oh, who could reexperience all of this?
Monday, July 14, 2008
Signs
A: If only I'd known then what I know now.
B: If you'd known then what you know now, would it have been then or now?
B: If you'd known then what you know now, would it have been then or now?
Friday, July 11, 2008
in search of f__a
Today, I see(k) stillness.
Still, (at times the past) has ways of dwelling in the present and is sometimes present in the present - more than is healthy.
I was silent too often about revealing the variety of my appreciations. And, sometimes one speaks too late.
Still, there are reasons to try to mend things of the past that I wish I could have done. Differently. Still.
Still, there are reasons that trying to mend the things of the past becomes quite trying.
Trying, (since) to do so forever, I'd never be able just to be - still - in the present.
And, as I said, I seek this still-ness - in the present.
Still, I'd forego this stillness in the present...to mend the past...with and for, Her.
Still, (at times the past) has ways of dwelling in the present and is sometimes present in the present - more than is healthy.
I was silent too often about revealing the variety of my appreciations. And, sometimes one speaks too late.
Still, there are reasons to try to mend things of the past that I wish I could have done. Differently. Still.
Still, there are reasons that trying to mend the things of the past becomes quite trying.
Trying, (since) to do so forever, I'd never be able just to be - still - in the present.
And, as I said, I seek this still-ness - in the present.
Still, I'd forego this stillness in the present...to mend the past...with and for, Her.
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