“What does it feel like to be alive?
Living, you stand under a waterfall. You leave the sleeping shore deliberately; you shed your dusty clothes, pick your barefoot way over the high, slippery rocks, hold your breath, choose your footing, and step into the waterfall. The hard water pelts your skull, bangs in bits on your shoulders and arms. The strong water dashes down beside you and you feel it along your calves and thighs rising roughly backup, up to the roiling surface, full of bubbles that slide up your skin or break on you at full speed. Can you breathe here? Here where the force is the greatest and only the strength of your neck holds the river out of your face. Yes, you can breathe even here. You could learn to live like this. And you can, if you concentrate, even look out at the peaceful far bank where you try to raise your arms. What a racket in your ears, what a scattershot pummeling!
It is time pounding at you, time. Knowing you are alive is watching on every side your generation’s short time falling away as fast as rivers drop through air, and feeling it hit.”
I mean, it just feels wonderful to be reminded that how much energy I get from reading and thinking about Joan of Arc. Even if I don’t time. Especially if I don’t have time.
I realize more and more that this is what I have to do in order to get time to do that other thing – which I love.
I can’t wait to clean out my to do-lists. I can’t even try to decide to delete items from them to make them smaller and spend time on that. I don’t want to pretend that there’ll ever be a period in my life when other people won’t – for good or bad reasons – stand in line to take chunk out of my (life) time. They will. It will happen.
So if I ever have to get more of this Love done … I have to become better at just stopping and doing it. Much better.
There’s a lot more nuance to it, but this is the heart of it.
“One of the things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water. Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.”
“Like any child, I slid into myself perfectly fitted, as a diver meets her reflection in a pool. Her fingertips enter the fingertips on the water, her wrists slide up her arms. The diver wraps herself in her reflection wholly, sealing it at the toes, and wears it as she climbs rising from the pool, and ever after.”
You’re in my soul
My body moves to your control
Baby, I’ve been thinking about you
all night long and the neighbours are talking
I have said to hell with all the multitude of contradictions and dead ends that are in the previous 460 posts or so, or in many of them.
So what if there is that? What is really the damage?
Isn’t it a greater damage not to be able to let go and start over?
I removed the page with the Mega Guide about Inner Power.
Instead I will just keep the research posts in which I sum up my experiences with that theme from the last year or so.
Messy yes, but there it is.
I found it to be sucking a little too much of my power trying to improve upon that mess and write a more polished guide which I no longer cared for.
If I want to review myself what the hell I thought about a particular problem 3 months ago and learn from it or avoid making the same mistake or whatever – then I will use the search function.
Starting with my memory.
That’s how life works anyway. So I might as well get used to it.
That’s what makes it feel fun to blog again!
Start by saying fuck you to those expectations of my own that don’t serve me.
Is that really it?
Right now I think it is.
And it is okay.
The Blog (or the light house) is like life and the soul – it is also a mystery. It is chaotic. It contains dead ends and contradictions and multitudes of all of that and more. And whoever wants to read it has a responsibility him- or herself to navigate those labyrinths and find what is needed. But I can only promise that there will always be a glow, not perfect order or no dead ends. But a glow that leads on.
And that is … The Blog
Every time I think of you
I feel shot right through with a bolt of blue
It’s no problem of mine
But it’s a problem I find
Living a life that I can’t leave behind
But there’s no sense in telling me
The wisdom of the fool won’t set you free
But that’s the way that it goes
And it’s what nobody knows
Well every day my confusion grows
Every time I see you falling
I get down on my knees and pray
I’m waiting for that final moment
You say the words that I can’t say
I feel fine and I feel good
I’m feeling like I never should
Whenever I get this way
I just don’t know what to say
Why can’t we be ourselves like we were yesterday
I’m not sure what this could mean
I don’t think you’re what you seem
I do admit to myself
That if I hurt someone else
So, like I mused about back in December (IIRC) … if I only have a very limited time I should try to do something in that time that gives mere energy here and now. Results be damned.
Process and the path is all it is about. And if that path leads nowhere then so be it.
But if that way of walking the path actually makes me go the distance then perhaps it will indeed lead somewhere. Finally, and after many, many failed attempts and interpretations about what was good for me creatively.
So it is worth trying.