zaterdag 14 april 2018
When
you relate to thoughts obsessively, you are actually feeding them
because thoughts need your attention to survive. Once you begin to pay
attention to them and categorize them, then they become very powerful.
You are feeding them energy because you are not seeing them as simple
phenomena. If one tries to quiet them down, that is another way of feeding them.
– Chögyam Trungpa -
I will listen deeply to you, yes, but I will never try to fix you, save you, mend you, stop you feeling what you are feeling or give you second-hand, memorized answers. I will never pretend to be ‘the one who knows’, 'the enlightened one’, 'the guru’ or some missionary for a conceptual truth so far removed from real-time, immediate, first-hand present experience. I will not indulge and feed your stories and mental conclusions and projections, I will not get into drama with you, I will not mistake you for my story about you, my dream of who you are.- Jeff Foster -
But friend, I will speak the truth to you, even if the truth triggers great pain. I will not spare our love from truth. I will meet you in the fires of hell. I will hold your hand there, I will walk with you as far as I can walk with you today, and bless you as we part. For in the deepest recesses of our experience we are intimately each other, and we cannot pretend otherwise.
Love is not a dream, love is not even a promise, it is the willingness to burn the false, the courage to meet in the fire.
Language has been called
an instrument, a tool, an art, a symphony, a game, a city, a social
force, a force for humanization.
Roland Barthes called it a skin,
Anthony Burgess ‘a mouthful of air.’
For Ralph Waldo Emerson it was both
‘fossil poetry’ and the ‘archives of history’.
For Max Müller 'the
autobiography of the human mind’.
For Martin Heidegger, it was 'the
house of being’.”
— “Just a Phrase I’m Going Through: My
Life in Language -
Life in Language -
vrijdag 13 april 2018
I love people. Everybody.
I love them, I think, as a
stamp collector loves his collection.
Every story, every incident, every
bit of conversation is raw material for me...
I would like to be
everyone...a cripple, a dying man, a whore,
and then come back to write
about my thoughts, my emotions, as that person.
- Sylvia Plath -
NITCH
donderdag 12 april 2018
I am still every age that I have been. Because I was once a child, I am
always a child. Because I was once a searching adolescent, given to
moods and ecstasies, these are still part of me, and always will be…
This does not mean that I ought to be trapped or enclosed in any of
these ages…the delayed adolescent, the childish adult, but that they are
in me to be drawn on; to forget is a form of suicide…
Far too many
people misunderstand what “putting away childish things” means, and
think that forgetting what it is like to think and feel and touch and
smell and taste and see and hear like a three-year-old or a
thirteen-year-old or a twenty-three-year-old means being grownup.
- Madeleine L’Engle -
I sense the world might be more dreamlike, metaphorical,
and poetic than we currently believe...
I wouldn't be surprised if
poetry...
in the sense of a world filled with metaphor, rhyme, and
recurring patterns, shapes and designs...
is how the world works.
The
world isn't logical, it's a song.
NITCH
woensdag 11 april 2018
I have come to the
frightening conclusion that I am the decisive element. It is my personal
approach that creates the climate. It is my daily mood that makes the
weather. I possess tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous. I
can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration, I can
humiliate or humor, hurt or heal.
In all situations, it is my response
that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de-escalated, and a person
is humanized or de-humanized. If we treat people as they are, we make
them worse. If we treat people as they ought to be, we help them become
what they are capable of becoming.
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe -
Je weet niet wacht lucht is, toch adem je.
Je weet niet wat slaap is, toch slaap je.
Je weet niet wat nacht is, toch lig je erin.
Je weet niet wat een hart is,
toch klopt het regelmatig in je borst,
dag en nacht, dag en nacht, dag en nacht.
Hoe is de wereld voor een pasgeboren kind?
Licht, donker. Koud, warm. Zacht, hard.
- Karl Ove Knausgård - Lente -
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