I listen to that song every so often and am transported somewhere else, perhaps amongst the wildflowers. I remember being sixteen years old, listening to that song and being able to 'feel' flowers growing up through the space between my toes and around me feet--that feeling of grounding is narcotic.
What a busy time it has been lately, and good for it, I am becoming increasingly enchanted with actions. For them to be a language unto themselves. For me, and my personality, this is a flex in a direction that generates perceptible ripples in my life. Just being quiet and doing a task. I hesitate more, as is expected at times, and this past week with all my focus elsewhere, my studies came into a state of intellectual constipation...luckily I've written a paper before jumping on here since I won't have time this weekend. It's going to be two years since I officially dated Andrea.
I tell you, it's remarkable, the power of a choice. It works this way for some, for others it is very different, I know because I am loved quite differently than I am currently capable of loving due to a fear from a perceived lack of safety in letting one's heart spill out completely. Yet, for others (like myself) a choice makes this door easier to unlock, and with her good grace, she even helps prop open the doors while I dig around in there to make more and more room more and more comfortable for the delicate care of another.
It has felt as a dance, a waltz, and often a grind (in the good way) and all the way through I have been blessed thus far to be wholly surprised; if not by the enormity of her way of humanity, then by some of the ways in which I've responded to situations. The latter, for understandable reason, scares me a bit, as I wonder how much of it is healthy, and how much of it is hubris--the only way to truly be humble is knowing one's strengths as gifts, but knowing one's strengths all the same.
Let us visit other waters now, and that of internet connection: when you write--reader do you exist?--when you write freely, do you sometimes rock back and forth with the wave of thought that carries you? Sitting forward when being decisive about definition in an argument; and relaxed, when describing something as fundamental as breathing.
I was once told by a Shaman, that we live in fourth dimensional time. I am certainly coming to believe her assertion, that "everything is manifesting a lot faster these days." It's a remarkable thing. One must feel the affects of it to truly know. As such, let me move on from talking about the pointing finger, and try and use it to describe the moon.
I find it difficult to contend with the reality of life because silence is often the great key, yet to speak of it breaks it; this is quite a glorious paradox, don' t you agree? I want to go in a door, if I use the key, it snaps--can I ever really get in the door? For that is the foundational belief the understanding and subsequent action follow.
Reason. Is it any clearer how boring reason really is without prose? If I had not the idea of prose in my life, I swear to you on any day, that philosophy and by extension the dynamic nature of being would make absolutely no sense to me--and more specifically, even less than they really make now. It's been said, prose before hos.
The real rub, is that we're just hos for prose. Poetry and the Romantics will have their birth again, you watch, we're about due. Just like during the Enlightenment when Rousseau was superseded by Voltaire, but only for so long before thought caught up with injustice and they were encouraged to Revolution by a newly birthing country to incite Revolution. During the middle years of the Revolution, the intellectual and nearly spiritual currency was given to Rousseau--of course the pendulum characteristically swings in the other direction by the time we even get to Goethe, however what we see is the fact that we've won before. Us who do not make a distinction between reason and love, or "instinct and intellect," as Durant puts it. Those are the Mad One's as I affectionately, and reverently refer to, those who integrate their being; those who take what Kant tore apart, and enjoin by virtue of their existence. We've won before, and by historical markers, we have opportunity to usher in the next age.
I have coined the following, so if you are to discuss, please do cite me: The Age of Cynicism is where we live in today. With diminished trust in government, churches, doctrines of any preconceived sort, we are again looking for firm footing. As we stumble forward in the darkness, not even trusting a homeless person to be so not by virtue of their own lack of social interest, but our own, we come to a defined fork, and are pressed upon to pick.
From The Age of Cynicism, we may surf the Age of the Internet into one of two areas: The Age of Confusion will follow if we continue to raise a world where nothing but oneself can be trusted, and then corporations and medical companies make sure that we can't even trust ourselves without outside help. This is a very particular historical context I'm offering forward in our collective age--it exists such for me now, and here--certainly at the same period in time, what I call the Age of Cynicism and the Age of the Internet, is for Syria a time of great change and rampant death.
As such, when I say the following, I am most comfortable when proposing it as the other road specifically in this context and for these people--those people being anyone who lives even modestly comfortably in what they call themselves, the First World Countries. The other road, away from Confusion we have available to our age, is the Age of Boldness.
Actions.
Actions.
Actions.
Don't forget to cite me. I will absolutely win in court.
Karan
What a busy time it has been lately, and good for it, I am becoming increasingly enchanted with actions. For them to be a language unto themselves. For me, and my personality, this is a flex in a direction that generates perceptible ripples in my life. Just being quiet and doing a task. I hesitate more, as is expected at times, and this past week with all my focus elsewhere, my studies came into a state of intellectual constipation...luckily I've written a paper before jumping on here since I won't have time this weekend. It's going to be two years since I officially dated Andrea.
I tell you, it's remarkable, the power of a choice. It works this way for some, for others it is very different, I know because I am loved quite differently than I am currently capable of loving due to a fear from a perceived lack of safety in letting one's heart spill out completely. Yet, for others (like myself) a choice makes this door easier to unlock, and with her good grace, she even helps prop open the doors while I dig around in there to make more and more room more and more comfortable for the delicate care of another.
It has felt as a dance, a waltz, and often a grind (in the good way) and all the way through I have been blessed thus far to be wholly surprised; if not by the enormity of her way of humanity, then by some of the ways in which I've responded to situations. The latter, for understandable reason, scares me a bit, as I wonder how much of it is healthy, and how much of it is hubris--the only way to truly be humble is knowing one's strengths as gifts, but knowing one's strengths all the same.
Let us visit other waters now, and that of internet connection: when you write--reader do you exist?--when you write freely, do you sometimes rock back and forth with the wave of thought that carries you? Sitting forward when being decisive about definition in an argument; and relaxed, when describing something as fundamental as breathing.
I was once told by a Shaman, that we live in fourth dimensional time. I am certainly coming to believe her assertion, that "everything is manifesting a lot faster these days." It's a remarkable thing. One must feel the affects of it to truly know. As such, let me move on from talking about the pointing finger, and try and use it to describe the moon.
I find it difficult to contend with the reality of life because silence is often the great key, yet to speak of it breaks it; this is quite a glorious paradox, don' t you agree? I want to go in a door, if I use the key, it snaps--can I ever really get in the door? For that is the foundational belief the understanding and subsequent action follow.
Reason. Is it any clearer how boring reason really is without prose? If I had not the idea of prose in my life, I swear to you on any day, that philosophy and by extension the dynamic nature of being would make absolutely no sense to me--and more specifically, even less than they really make now. It's been said, prose before hos.
The real rub, is that we're just hos for prose. Poetry and the Romantics will have their birth again, you watch, we're about due. Just like during the Enlightenment when Rousseau was superseded by Voltaire, but only for so long before thought caught up with injustice and they were encouraged to Revolution by a newly birthing country to incite Revolution. During the middle years of the Revolution, the intellectual and nearly spiritual currency was given to Rousseau--of course the pendulum characteristically swings in the other direction by the time we even get to Goethe, however what we see is the fact that we've won before. Us who do not make a distinction between reason and love, or "instinct and intellect," as Durant puts it. Those are the Mad One's as I affectionately, and reverently refer to, those who integrate their being; those who take what Kant tore apart, and enjoin by virtue of their existence. We've won before, and by historical markers, we have opportunity to usher in the next age.
I have coined the following, so if you are to discuss, please do cite me: The Age of Cynicism is where we live in today. With diminished trust in government, churches, doctrines of any preconceived sort, we are again looking for firm footing. As we stumble forward in the darkness, not even trusting a homeless person to be so not by virtue of their own lack of social interest, but our own, we come to a defined fork, and are pressed upon to pick.
From The Age of Cynicism, we may surf the Age of the Internet into one of two areas: The Age of Confusion will follow if we continue to raise a world where nothing but oneself can be trusted, and then corporations and medical companies make sure that we can't even trust ourselves without outside help. This is a very particular historical context I'm offering forward in our collective age--it exists such for me now, and here--certainly at the same period in time, what I call the Age of Cynicism and the Age of the Internet, is for Syria a time of great change and rampant death.
As such, when I say the following, I am most comfortable when proposing it as the other road specifically in this context and for these people--those people being anyone who lives even modestly comfortably in what they call themselves, the First World Countries. The other road, away from Confusion we have available to our age, is the Age of Boldness.
Actions.
Actions.
Actions.
Don't forget to cite me. I will absolutely win in court.
Karan
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