Guest guest Posted September 6, 2006 Report Share Posted September 6, 2006 Nisargadatta , " anabebe57 " <kailashana wrote: > > > > In the deepest sense, in the deepest truth of our being, once > > we have experienced seeing the falseness of ourselves and lived > > through the dark night of the soul, we understand what life is. > > > > We have become its truth, and with that knowing, we have no choice > > but to live as though we mattered. How? By touching one another as > > deeply and as lovingly as possible. With these words from our > heart. > > > > With words that speak of love. > > > > > > Anna > > > > > > > > > Mystification, Anna? > > > > > > And when you're angry, Anna? > > And when you're feeling malicious, Anna? > > And when you're feeling greed, lust or fear, Anna? > > What do you, Anna, do? > > Just tune out? > > Or express it? > > > Too hollow, Anna. > > > And if that is love, > > What's the difference > > Between before and after > > this dramatic change > > you speak of? > > > > " Before enlightenment, > > fetch water, chop wood, > > after enlightenment, > > fetch water, chop wood " ? > > > Too hollow, Anna. > > > And since you're beyond > > dialog, Anna: > > > Love is not beyond dialog. > > > Beyond dialog is only > > > > Mystification. > > > > And mystification is a form of > > > > Deception > > > (anger, vengeance, alienation) > > > > I invite you to get real and show > > what love is: not the ego you > > so proudly proclaim. > > > For me, love is warm > > not remote, > > gentle, > > not explosive > > and exhibitionistic. > > > > Dearest Sky, Dearest Anna, > > I almost missed this post. > > You think I have not offered dialog Sky? Am I not the moon to the > sun and stars to your sky? You are the clouds reflecting on my > water. Very loving, Anna. But I'm somewhat dumbstruck, pleasantly confused: many is the time I and others have asked you very direct and simple questions which you have simply ignored or not answered. For example, " have you considered publishing a book of your poetry? " I'm not saying that you haven't entered into dialog at all. I'm just saying that you seem to avoid simple and unaffected dialog. So, as far as your allusions to the sky and moon, well, as poetic as these are, I'd call them more imaginary than direct: relatively speaking, ordinarily speaking. You might respond that there's no difference, or that one is somehow more authentic than the other. I'm saying, what's wrong with the fullness of both? Neglecting the prosaic tends to mystify. Neglecting the poetic tends to bore. > > I ask you: What do you want from me sky? I don't want anything from you, Anna, but what I'm very directly asking you for. No need to mine, search between the lines. I'm being very straight forward: I'm just commenting on something you wrote about love and facing the dark night of the soul. And how these allusions seem to relate to you, from my point of view. > > My marrow? I'm already just about picked clean by the > buzzards of Hinckley. But whatever is left, I give you. That seems rather morose. And who is Hinckley? Am I to feel ruthless and cruel to demand too much from one who has given so much? Please, don't suffer on my account. For me, this site is just a celebration of abundance, not merely of death, but the whole specturm, including the quotidian. Yes death is to be celebrated, too. But please don't cast me as yet another buzzard. > > The human emotions are always lurking, almost as if in memory, as if > chance and circumstance navigate under the peaceful stars and find a > shore that I break my craft upon; but yes, these old friends of > mine: anger, frustration, pity, fatigue, frustration, a feeling of > alienation by wanting more, vengeance, though, you'd have to ask the > ones who know if they felt I was; so yes, I just invite them in for > a tea, now that I know they hold no power over me. Strange > bedfellows all. I don't wallow in the praise and adulation or the > blame or the shame. I don't wallow, let anger fester to become > rage, I've never been greedy but you'd have to ask those who know > me. I've seen fear in myself, but am I fearful when I face it? I'm just saying that sometimes you seem to post too many comments and remarks, or affect through neglect, negative sentiments, that just seem to have a gratuitously spiteful effect. And it doesn't seem, to me, to demonstrate a commitment to living fully in love. Of course, one, I, can always appear to be projecting. But that's my personal impression, for what it's worth. > > There's always self-perception, and what the 'other'such as SKY > thinks and feels about " Anna " . Sometimes they meet, sometimes the > paths diverge, at times parallel, and often crash and burn into one > another. Yes, and honest, sincere, unaffected dialog can bring a heretofore unappreciated opportunity for clarity and understanding, as opposed to mystification and occlusion. > > Where does sky meet the earth but in the horizon... In a mystical sense, yes. But, as I say, there is also the unadorned, yet not unwelcome, prosaic and ordinary, the quotidian, yet authentic, disclosing, open, sincere, sharing. (Sharing, not " giving, sacrificing, self-immolating, dramatic, intense, overwhelmed and overwhelming. " ) > > Anna > Sky Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 6, 2006 Report Share Posted September 6, 2006 Nisargadatta , " skywhilds " <skywords wrote: > > Nisargadatta , " anabebe57 " kailashana@ wrote: > > > > > > > In the deepest sense, in the deepest truth of our being, once > > > we have experienced seeing the falseness of ourselves and lived > > > through the dark night of the soul, we understand what life is. > > > > > > We have become its truth, and with that knowing, we have no choice > > > but to live as though we mattered. How? By touching one another as > > > deeply and as lovingly as possible. With these words from our > > heart. > > > > > > With words that speak of love. > > > > > > > > > Anna > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Mystification, Anna? > > > > > > > > > > > > And when you're angry, Anna? > > > > And when you're feeling malicious, Anna? > > > > And when you're feeling greed, lust or fear, Anna? > > > > What do you, Anna, do? > > > > Just tune out? > > > > Or express it? > > > > > > Too hollow, Anna. > > > > > > And if that is love, > > > > What's the difference > > > > Between before and after > > > > this dramatic change > > > > you speak of? > > > > > > > > " Before enlightenment, > > > > fetch water, chop wood, > > > > after enlightenment, > > > > fetch water, chop wood " ? > > > > > > Too hollow, Anna. > > > > > > And since you're beyond > > > > dialog, Anna: > > > > > > Love is not beyond dialog. > > > > > > Beyond dialog is only > > > > > > > > Mystification. > > > > > > > > And mystification is a form of > > > > > > > > Deception > > > > > > (anger, vengeance, alienation) > > > > > > > > I invite you to get real and show > > > > what love is: not the ego you > > > > so proudly proclaim. > > > > > > For me, love is warm > > > > not remote, > > > > gentle, > > > > not explosive > > > > and exhibitionistic. > > > > > > > > Dearest Sky, Dearest Anna, > > > I almost missed this post. > > > > You think I have not offered dialog Sky? Am I not the moon to the > > sun and stars to your sky? You are the clouds reflecting on my > > water. > Very loving, Anna. But I'm somewhat dumbstruck, pleasantly confused: > many is the time I and others have asked you very direct and simple > questions which you have simply ignored or not answered. For example, > " have you considered publishing a book of your poetry? " I honestly don't remember that question posed here. I have a small already with 3 poets " LOVE WHISPERS " and am gathering work together for 2 other books. I emailed all groups, including Niz when it came out last year. > > I'm not saying that you haven't entered into dialog at all. I'm just > saying that you seem to avoid simple and unaffected dialog. So, as > far as your allusions to the sky and moon, well, as poetic as these > are, I'd call them more imaginary than direct: relatively speaking, > ordinarily speaking. Forgive me, but I very simply and unaffected quite often, perhaps you have missed my posts. And most heart to heart dialogue, waxes on a poetic exchange, more often than not. > > You might respond that there's no difference, or that one is somehow > more authentic than the other. I'm saying, what's wrong with the > fullness of both? Neglecting the prosaic tends to mystify. > Neglecting the poetic tends to bore. Sky, I see the profance in the sacred and the sacred in the profane. I have always spoken in/as/to/of both. > > > > > > > > > I ask you: What do you want from me sky? > > > I don't want anything from you, Anna, but what I'm very directly > asking you for. No need to mine, search between the lines. I'm being > very straight forward: I'm just commenting on something you wrote > about love and facing the dark night of the soul. And how these > allusions seem to relate to you, from my point of view. Am I giving you what you want from me? I also know that one can give one's heart and soul and still not have be enough, Sky. Surely you have experienced that. Love is all there is AND the truth that that is not known in all hearts. If that were the case, there would be no hate or war. Nothing to prove and disprove. And the truth of living life in the year 2006. It is difficult. It is hard. It is seemingly an endless battle with life, exactly as it is. Oh, yes. Is yours different? Do you have a family? Do you have to make a 'living'? Do you have health problems? Do you have 10001 issuses that arise from being human? The dark night of the soul comes every time I fall into forgetfulness that THIS is IS the Way It Is. > > > > > > > My marrow? I'm already just about picked clean by the > > buzzards of Hinckley. But whatever is left, I give you. > > > > That seems rather morose. And who is Hinckley? Am I to feel ruthless > and cruel to demand too much from one who has given so much? Please, > don't suffer on my account. For me, this site is just a celebration > of abundance, not merely of death, but the whole specturm, including > the quotidian. Yes death is to be celebrated, too. But please don't > cast me as yet another buzzard. Hinckley is a city. I suffer on my own account. Thank you very much. You needn't wear the coat of many colours. We're all buzzards. We pick on oneanother to get what we either want or don't want. Go figure. Egalitarian. It has always been so. Life has been made expendable by living. > > > > > > > > > > > The human emotions are always lurking, almost as if in memory, as if > > chance and circumstance navigate under the peaceful stars and find a > > shore that I break my craft upon; but yes, these old friends of > > mine: anger, frustration, pity, fatigue, frustration, a feeling of > > alienation by wanting more, vengeance, though, you'd have to ask the > > ones who know if they felt I was; so yes, I just invite them in for > > a tea, now that I know they hold no power over me. Strange > > bedfellows all. I don't wallow in the praise and adulation or the > > blame or the shame. I don't wallow, let anger fester to become > > rage, I've never been greedy but you'd have to ask those who know > > me. I've seen fear in myself, but am I fearful when I face it? > > > > > > I'm just saying that sometimes you seem to post too many comments and > remarks, or affect through neglect, negative sentiments, that just > seem to have a gratuitously spiteful effect. And it doesn't seem, to > me, to demonstrate a commitment to living fully in love. Of course, > one, I, can always appear to be projecting. But that's my personal > impression, for what it's worth. Please offer me evidence of that. And why what I have written gives you that opinion. My posts are infrequent more often than not. My committment is to be truthful to myself, and make no mistake Sky, I have spent a lifetime to find and be my own truth. If it doesn't resonate with you, and we can't be Lovers, at least let us be friends and kind to one another. This is what I can offer. (I think you know from whence I speak.) The first poem I wrote Sky... A Taste Of Ashes Forgive me My Life, For not understanding you soon enough-- not looking to you and you alone as my Savior Unnamed Tombs have spoken this Truth This emptiness of Existence that exists not There And for this I have given my Life-- This Part I have not Lived... In dreams of Dreams In memories of Memories in words of Words I thought were Mine... Yet Love still speaks to me of You-- --this wretched Ache--Longing to be Touched To hold even gentler still as My Prayer-- In bowing Gratitude for You as you Know Me.. Now Here, Now Passing A Shadow of Self, Selfless Long Last This Ecstasy An Astonishment A Fragility in Balance --Before-- A Taste of Ashes on This Sorrowful Tongue > > > > > > There's always self-perception, and what the 'other'such as SKY > > thinks and feels about " Anna " . Sometimes they meet, sometimes the > > paths diverge, at times parallel, and often crash and burn into one > > another. > > > > > > Yes, and honest, sincere, unaffected dialog can bring a heretofore > unappreciated opportunity for clarity and understanding, as opposed to > mystification and occlusion. In the end Sky, it's all about interpretations. Yours and mine. > > > > > > > > > Where does sky meet the earth but in the horizon... > In a mystical sense, yes. But, as I say, there is also the unadorned, > yet not unwelcome, prosaic and ordinary, the quotidian, yet authentic, > disclosing, open, sincere, sharing. (Sharing, not " giving, > sacrificing, self-immolating, dramatic, intense, overwhelmed and > overwhelming. " ) In the moment I write, and you read my words or you write and I read your words, we have met. We can not 'see' one another, we can not 'touch' one another, we can not 'fragrance' once another, we not 'hear' one another, but we can sense through our words how we feel. In the end, it's all about how we feel, if we have closed our hearts or if we have an open mind and open heart. Love is the door to feelings that goes beyone self to the self-less where we meet each other in recognition. Yes? > > > > > > > > Anna > > > > > > > > > > > > > Sky > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 7, 2006 Report Share Posted September 7, 2006 > > Very loving, Anna. But I'm somewhat dumbstruck, pleasantly confused: > > many is the time I and others have asked you very direct and simple > > questions which you have simply ignored or not answered. For example, > > " have you considered publishing a book of your poetry? " > > > > I honestly don't remember that question posed here. I have a small > already with 3 poets " LOVE WHISPERS " and am gathering work together for 2 > other books. > > I emailed all groups, including Niz when it came out last year. Well, Anna, I must say, you've acquitted yourself completely, from my point of view, through these dialogs. But I remember inviting you several times to enter into dialog, and you didn't. I may have asked you once or twice and I know someone else did, maybe it was Noel, if you'd published. But, as I say, you're absolved, from my point of view. > > > > > > I'm not saying that you haven't entered into dialog at all. I'm just > > saying that you seem to avoid simple and unaffected dialog. So, as > > far as your allusions to the sky and moon, well, as poetic as these > > are, I'd call them more imaginary than direct: relatively speaking, > > ordinarily speaking. > > Forgive me, but I very simply and unaffected quite often, perhaps you > have missed my posts. And most heart to heart dialogue, waxes on a > poetic exchange, more often than not. > > > > > > You might respond that there's no difference, or that one is somehow > > more authentic than the other. I'm saying, what's wrong with the > > fullness of both? Neglecting the prosaic tends to mystify. > > Neglecting the poetic tends to bore. > > Sky, I see the profane in the sacred and the sacred in the profane. I > have always spoken in/as/to/of both. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > I ask you: What do you want from me sky? > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > I don't want anything from you, Anna, but what I'm very directly > > asking you for. No need to mine, search between the lines. I'm being > > very straight forward: I'm just commenting on something you wrote > > about love and facing the dark night of the soul. And how these > > allusions seem to relate to you, from my point of view. > > > > Am I giving you what you want from me? I also know that one can give > one's heart and soul and still not have be enough, Sky. Surely you have > experienced that. Well, I guess that if I want anything from anyone, including you, Anna, it is to be heard. I just wrote, " I don't want anything from you, Anna, " and yet you just wrote, " Am I giving you what you want from me? " And I most certainly am not asking you to give me your heart and soul! This is very interesting, Anna. Seems that there is an addiction to intensity, here. So, if I want anything from you, it's for you to merely ask your own self, " am I addicted to intensity? " And if you do, indeed, come up with an answer, you might want to let me know. Or you might not. But please, stop with this exaggerating vis a vis me, if you want to do anything " for me " at all. Still, I very much appreciate that you seem to have gone out of your way to answer my questions. Thank you. > > Love is all there is AND the truth that that is not known in all hearts. > If that were the case, there would be no hate or war. Nothing to prove > and disprove. I wouldn't go that far, myself. I think war is about, ultimately, food. We're fighting for oil, right now, because oil is our lifeline to food, believe it or not. No oil, no fertilizer, not to mention a whole spectrum of oil/food related requisites, such as the gas needed to transport food, which takes more energy than the farming of the food itself. I know there are alternatives to oil. But just talking about what IS, right now, not what could be. > > And the truth of living life in the year 2006. It is difficult. It is > hard. It is seemingly an endless battle with life, exactly as it is. > Oh, yes. Is yours different? Do you have a family? Do you have to make > a 'living'? Do you have health problems? Do you have 10001 missuses > that arise from being human? No. Honestly, my life is about is easy and care free as it gets. I must say, that since I've begun to kick my addiction to hatred, I've become quite unencumbered. My heart ache has disappeared: incredibly. (It only returns when I find myself indulging in some form or another of loathing. But it stops, more or less immediately, when I stop the loathing. But it IS surgical. I really have to be quite sensitive to recognize just what is loathing and what is not. Very fascinating!) > > The dark night of the soul comes every time I fall into forgetfulness > that THIS is IS the Way It Is. > > > > Cool! > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > My marrow? I'm already just about picked clean by the > > > buzzards of Hinckley. But whatever is left, I give you. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > That seems rather morose. And who is Hinckley? Am I to feel ruthless > > and cruel to demand too much from one who has given so much? Please, > > don't suffer on my account. For me, this site is just a celebration > > of abundance, not merely of death, but the whole spectrum, including > > the quotidian. Yes death is to be celebrated, too. But please don't > > cast me as yet another buzzard. > > Hinckley is a city. I suffer on my own account. Thank you very much. > You needn't wear the coat of many colours. We're all buzzards. We pick > on one another to get what we either want or don't want. Go figure. > Egalitarian. It has always been so. > > Life has been made expendable by living. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Hmmmmmmm..... > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > The human emotions are always lurking, almost as if in memory, as if > > > chance and circumstance navigate under the peaceful stars and find a > > > shore that I break my craft upon; but yes, these old friends of > > > mine: anger, frustration, pity, fatigue, frustration, a feeling of > > > alienation by wanting more, vengeance, though, you'd have to ask the > > > ones who know if they felt I was; so yes, I just invite them in for > > > a tea, now that I know they hold no power over me. Strange > > > bedfellows all. I don't wallow in the praise and adulation or the > > > blame or the shame. I don't wallow, let anger fester to become > > > rage, I've never been greedy but you'd have to ask those who know > > > me. I've seen fear in myself, but am I fearful when I face it? > > > > > > > > > > > > I'm just saying that sometimes you seem to post too many comments and > > remarks, or affect through neglect, negative sentiments, that just > > seem to have a gratuitously spiteful effect. And it doesn't seem, to > > me, to demonstrate a commitment to living fully in love. Of course, > > one, I, can always appear to be projecting. But that's my personal > > impression, for what it's worth. > > > > Please offer me evidence of that. And why what I have written gives you > that opinion. My posts are infrequent more often than not. When someone suggested that I was a fool at your feet, you responded with a smiley face. > > My commitment is to be truthful to myself, and make no mistake Sky, I > have spent a lifetime to find and be my own truth. If it doesn't > resonate with you, and we can't be Lovers, at least let us be friends > and kind to one another. This is what I can offer. (I think you know > from whence I speak.) Sounds great! But for us to be lovers, Anna, I'm just not ready for such hyperbole. Now, I'm asking you, why be so shocking, if not as an addiction to intensity? Isn't that what poetry is, to a great extent? > > The first poem I wrote Sky... > > > A Taste Of Ashes Forgive me My Life, For not understanding you soon > enough-- not looking to you and you alone as my Savior Unnamed Tombs > have spoken this Truth This emptiness of Existence that exists not There > And for this I have given my Life-- This Part I have not Lived... In > dreams of Dreams In memories of Memories in words of Words I thought > were Mine... Yet Love still speaks to me of You-- --this wretched > Ache--Longing to be Touched To hold even gentler still as My Prayer-- In > bowing Gratitude for You as you Know Me.. Now Here, Now Passing A > Shadow of Self, Selfless Long Last This Ecstasy An Astonishment A > Fragility in Balance --Before-- A Taste of Ashes on This Sorrowful > Tongue > > > > > > > > > Beautiful. Really. Nevertheless, also, no need for " this wretched Ache, " it now seems to me, with abstinence from loathing. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > There's always self-perception, and what the 'other'such as SKY > > > thinks and feels about " Anna " . Sometimes they meet, sometimes the > > > paths diverge, at times parallel, and often crash and burn into one > > > another. > > > > > > > > > > > > > Yes, and honest, sincere, unaffected dialog can bring a heretofore > > unappreciated opportunity for clarity and understanding, as opposed to > > mystification and occlusion. > > In the end Sky, it's all about interpretations. Yours and mine. > > > > > In the end, there is not end. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Where does sky meet the earth but in the horizon... > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > In a mystical sense, yes. But, as I say, there is also the unadorned, > > yet not unwelcome, prosaic and ordinary, the quotidian, yet authentic, > > disclosing, open, sincere, sharing. (Sharing, not " giving, > > sacrificing, self-immolating, dramatic, intense, overwhelmed and > > overwhelming. " ) > > > > In the moment I write, and you read my words or you write and I read > your words, we have met. We can not 'see' one another, we can not > 'touch' one another, we can not 'fragrance' once another, we not 'hear' > one another, but we can sense through our words how we feel. yes. > > In the end, it's all about how we feel, if we have closed our hearts or > if we have an open mind and open heart. yes. > > Love is the door to feelings that goes beyond self to the self-less > where we meet each other in recognition. Yes? > no problem! thanks! > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Anna > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Sky Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted September 7, 2006 Report Share Posted September 7, 2006 <Snipped some dialogue> > > > I'm not saying that you haven't entered into dialog at all. I'm just > > > saying that you seem to avoid simple and unaffected dialog. So, as > > > far as your allusions to the sky and moon, well, as poetic as these > > > are, I'd call them more imaginary than direct: relatively speaking, > > > ordinarily speaking. > > > > Forgive me, but I very simply and unaffected quite often, perhaps you > > have missed my posts. And most heart to heart dialogue, waxes on a > > poetic exchange, more often than not. > > > > > > > > > > You might respond that there's no difference, or that one is somehow > > > more authentic than the other. I'm saying, what's wrong with the > > > fullness of both? Neglecting the prosaic tends to mystify. > > > Neglecting the poetic tends to bore. > > > > Sky, I see the profane in the sacred and the sacred in the profane. I > > have always spoken in/as/to/of both. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > I ask you: What do you want from me sky? > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > I don't want anything from you, Anna, but what I'm very directly > > > asking you for. No need to mine, search between the lines. I'm being > > > very straight forward: I'm just commenting on something you wrote > > > about love and facing the dark night of the soul. And how these > > > allusions seem to relate to you, from my point of view. > > > > > > > > Am I giving you what you want from me? I also know that one can give > > one's heart and soul and still not have be enough, Sky. Surely you have > > experienced that. > > > Well, I guess that if I want anything from anyone, including you, > Anna, it is to be heard. I just wrote, " I don't want anything from > you, Anna, " and yet you just wrote, " Am I giving you what you want > from me? " And I most certainly am not asking you to give me your > heart and soul! This is very interesting, Anna. Seems that there is > an addiction to intensity, here. So, if I want anything from you, > it's for you to merely ask your own self, " am I addicted to > intensity? " And if you do, indeed, come up with an answer, you might > want to let me know. Or you might not. But please, stop with this > exaggerating vis a vis me, if you want to do anything " for me " at all. > > Still, I very much appreciate that you seem to have gone out of your > way to answer my questions. Thank you. > Dialogue my dear Sky, at this level IS INTENSITY. It begs clarity and resonance. > > > > > > > Love is all there is AND the truth that that is not known in all hearts. > > If that were the case, there would be no hate or war. Nothing to prove > > and disprove. > > > > > > > > I wouldn't go that far, myself. I think war is about, ultimately, > food. We're fighting for oil, right now, because oil is our lifeline > to food, believe it or not. No oil, no fertilizer, not to mention a > whole spectrum of oil/food related requisites, such as the gas needed > to transport food, which takes more energy than the farming of the > food itself. I know there are alternatives to oil. But just talking > about what IS, right now, not what could be. It is dinnertime in hell, and attached to the inhabitant is a long ladle, everytime they try to sip the soup, not a drop remains in the ladle. It is dinnertime in heaven each inhabitant feeds one another. Something like that as the story goes. > > > > > > > And the truth of living life in the year 2006. It is difficult. It is > > hard. It is seemingly an endless battle with life, exactly as it is. > > Oh, yes. Is yours different? Do you have a family? Do you have to make > > a 'living'? Do you have health problems? Do you have 10001 missuses > > that arise from being human? No. Honestly, my life is about is easy and care free as it gets. I > must say, that since I've begun to kick my addiction to hatred, I've > become quite unencumbered. My heart ache has disappeared: > incredibly. (It only returns when I find myself indulging in some > form or another of loathing. But it stops, more or less immediately, > when I stop the loathing. But it IS surgical. I really have to be > quite sensitive to recognize just what is loathing and what is not. > Very fascinating!) Fear and loathing are joined at the hip. However, distinguishing the parameters of being human and what a human can tolerate is in my honest imagination, a worthy effort. I cannot see human beings dying in every way shape and form just to preserve the status quo. As long as my life is of ease and carefree, well that's enough. Is that compassion? If I know you well enough Sky, your sensitivity would presume that when one experiences joy and bliss, by it's very definition of its nature, we want to share it. Hence dialogues and lists. > > > > > > > > > > The dark night of the soul comes every time I fall into forgetfulness > > that THIS is IS the Way It Is. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Cool! > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > My marrow? I'm already just about picked clean by the > > > > buzzards of Hinckley. But whatever is left, I give you. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > That seems rather morose. And who is Hinckley? Am I to feel ruthless > > > and cruel to demand too much from one who has given so much? Please, > > > don't suffer on my account. For me, this site is just a celebration > > > of abundance, not merely of death, but the whole spectrum, including > > > the quotidian. Yes death is to be celebrated, too. But please don't > > > cast me as yet another buzzard. > > > > Hinckley is a city. I suffer on my own account. Thank you very much. > > You needn't wear the coat of many colours. We're all buzzards. We pick > > on one another to get what we either want or don't want. Go figure. > > Egalitarian. It has always been so. > > > > Life has been made expendable by living. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Hmmmmmmm..... Indeed!!!! ;-) > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > The human emotions are always lurking, almost as if in memory, as if > > > > chance and circumstance navigate under the peaceful stars and find a > > > > shore that I break my craft upon; but yes, these old friends of > > > > mine: anger, frustration, pity, fatigue, frustration, a feeling of > > > > alienation by wanting more, vengeance, though, you'd have to ask the > > > > ones who know if they felt I was; so yes, I just invite them in for > > > > a tea, now that I know they hold no power over me. Strange > > > > bedfellows all. I don't wallow in the praise and adulation or the > > > > blame or the shame. I don't wallow, let anger fester to become > > > > rage, I've never been greedy but you'd have to ask those who know > > > > me. I've seen fear in myself, but am I fearful when I face it? > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > I'm just saying that sometimes you seem to post too many comments and > > > remarks, or affect through neglect, negative sentiments, that just > > > seem to have a gratuitously spiteful effect. And it doesn't seem, to > > > me, to demonstrate a commitment to living fully in love. Of course, > > > one, I, can always appear to be projecting. But that's my personal > > > impression, for what it's worth. > > > > > > > > Please offer me evidence of that. And why what I have written gives you > > that opinion. My posts are infrequent more often than not. > > > When someone suggested that I was a fool at your feet, you responded > with a smiley face. I apologize, I don't think I interpreted it in that manner. And like poetry, I forget poems I have written until someone else reminds me. It flows through, and I'm on the next page. It's like that. No one is a fool at anyone's fee, especially mine;-) > > > > > > > > > > > My commitment is to be truthful to myself, and make no mistake Sky, I > > have spent a lifetime to find and be my own truth. If it doesn't > > resonate with you, and we can't be Lovers, at least let us be friends > > and kind to one another. This is what I can offer. (I think you know > > from whence I speak.) > > > > > > Sounds great! But for us to be lovers, Anna, I'm just not ready for > such hyperbole. Now, I'm asking you, why be so shocking, if not as an > addiction to intensity? Isn't that what poetry is, to a great extent? Call it whatever you want, addiction to intensity? I call it Anna's life. We can't all be perfect. hahahaha > > > > > > > > The first poem I wrote Sky... > > > > > > A Taste Of Ashes Forgive me My Life, For not understanding you soon > > enough-- not looking to you and you alone as my Savior Unnamed Tombs > > have spoken this Truth This emptiness of Existence that exists not There > > And for this I have given my Life-- This Part I have not Lived... In > > dreams of Dreams In memories of Memories in words of Words I thought > > were Mine... Yet Love still speaks to me of You-- --this wretched > > Ache--Longing to be Touched To hold even gentler still as My Prayer-- In > > bowing Gratitude for You as you Know Me.. Now Here, Now Passing A > > Shadow of Self, Selfless Long Last This Ecstasy An Astonishment A > > Fragility in Balance --Before-- A Taste of Ashes on This Sorrowful > > Tongue > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > Beautiful. Really. Nevertheless, also, no need for " this wretched > Ache, " it now seems to me, with abstinence from loathing. Beloved Sky do you still think it's a case of fear and loathing? I offer this for your consideration, it is my second poem: A Simple Task I who had learned to walk by touching the earth. Knew not one thing until My ever-cleansing Earth touched This magnificent frailty, Graced in the Freedom of gifts I who was given my breath and breathed-- Listen! Only the Divine Breathes I who was given my eyes to see was blind That Blindness may See I who held Life in small distances Loved Not Until All Distances disappeared as this small sad little life I held in jealous grasp --A pulsating Star farther--reaching Ended. In Silence. Yes it was I who suffered-- In absolute despair, In horror thrust upon my Innocence And my own Calling is not enough-- All of You are enjoined In my fervent plea of living This Solitary Life. I have Love to give, This simple task. Nothing else I can say Sky, Do we understand one another? Does the sky fit the earth once again? <<<having snipped the above and the below only the middle remains:>>> Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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