RE : re: I haven't been following this but...\the beauty of awkwardness

[Guest guest]

--- pliantheart <pliantheart a écrit :

 

> <snip>

>

> > > >

> > > >

> > > > That has not been the experience here.

> > > >

> > > > Tears come frequently........quite often while

> in

> > > > conversation......tears will well up.

> > > >

> > > > They seem to be stimulated by a rememberence

> of a pristine

> > > > comfort-zone......a primal....garden.....my

> first home.

> > > >

> > > > Tears blur the edges.......the eyes looking

> back...become my

> > > > own....and I am swept away...over the orb.

> > > >

> > > >

> > > > Tears begin to flow ....as these words

> appear......and I

> remember once

> > > > again who I am.

> > >

> > > That is beautiful...

> > >

> > > I am especially struck by the " I remember once

> again who I am "

> > > and the " swept away over the orb " .

> > >

> > > Sometimes I will " choke up " when I see something

> especially

> > > beautiful. And those for whom that does not

> happen I feel

> > > something precious in life is still missing.

> > >

> > > The American culture has roots of judgementalism

> about a man

> > > crying, though perhaps that is changing. I don't

> know about

> > > other countries.

> > >

> > > In my view a man that can cry is more mature,

> and stronger,

> > > than a man that cannot. If a man simply *never*

> cries then

> > > he has been wounded in a very deep way, in my

> view. It is a

> > > kind of barrenness.

> > >

> > > Bill

> >

> > What about when there is no image at all to fit?

> >

> > What is it when " crying " or " not crying " aren't

> criteria for judgment

> > - either way?

> >

> > -- Dan

> >

>

> good point...

>

> but there is no such thing as steady-state

> perfection.

>

> Jobn Brockman talked about the beauty of

> awkwardness...

>

> there is no right or wrong entails judgement as a

> possibility, and criteria as having their place.

>

> stuff just happens, and whatever " we " there may

> appear

> to be will be stirred into it.

>

> patterns flowing in and out, all around, make it all

> seem real (perhaps)... but then....

>

> the page is turned

>

> and whatever that was, just isn't any more...

>

> it is this acceptance of imperfection and the

> endlessness of transition, rather than the nailing

> of the pristine, unpolluted real...

>

>

> Bill

 

it is just perfect the way it is? without my help??

so what am i going to do if i can`t fix something, or

somebody.

Nothing left to do.

Nothing good to give.

Nothing to protect.

Nothing to know.

Nothing i can explain.

No fire to estinguish.

and no borders to jump.

Nothing to regret either.

 

only ligthness of being then.

 

P

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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