Monthly Archives: May 2016

DFW

For you, if you attain your goal and cannot find some way to transcend the experience of having that goal be your entire existence, your raison de faire, so, then, one of two things we see will happen.

One, one is that you attain the goal and realize the shocking realization that attaining the goal does not complete or redeem you, does not make everything for your life “OK” as you are, in the culture, educated to assume it will do this, the goal. And then you face this fact that what you had thought would have the meaning does not have the meaning when you get it, and you are impaled by shock. We see suicides in history by people at these pinnacles;

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Sesame and Lilies – John Ruskin

“What is your life? It is even as a vapour that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.” (James 14:4)

“and verily every man living is altogether vanity.
For man walketh in a vain shadow, and disquieteth himself in vain;  he heapeth up riches, and cannot tell who shall gather them.” (Psalm 39, ll 6-7)

“Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do – do it with thy might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10)

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whenever the arts and labours of life are fulfilled in this spirit of striving against misrule, and doing whatever we have to do, honourably and perfectly, they invariably bring happiness, as much as seems possible to the nature of man. In all other paths by which that happiness is pursued there is disappointment, or destruction: for ambition and passion, there is no rest – no fruition; the fairest pleasures of youth perish in a darkness greater that their past light: and the loftiest and purest love too often does but inflame the cloud of life with endless fire of pain. But, ascending from lowest to highest, through every scale of human industry, that industry worthily followed, gives peace.

 

 

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Backbone – DFW

“the universe [is] an infinite system of neural connections that had evolved, at it’s highest point, an organism that could sustain consciousness of both itself and the universe at the same time, such that the human nervous system became the universe’s way of being aware of and thus accessible to itself.”

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That Time I Got Caught in the Crossfire

Well she came on down to my one sheriff town,

A girl from the big city.

She tended bar at the Old Bell Jar,

And lured cowboys with her sweet ditties.

The voice of an angel dropped down to hell,

She’d be the death of a few, I could already tell.

A girl with danger in her strut and fire in her eyes,

You’d be one hell of  a man to resist her lies.

And lies they were you’d best be sure,

For one like her, there ain’t no cure.

I myself was charmed by her wiles,

For any man she could easily beguile,

Young or old, handsome, or not..

In the end every one of ’em  would get caught.

In a snare she made particular to each,

Tempting them with a fruit they’d never reach.

I loved from afar, not like some others,

In particular were these two brothers.

They got in a row one god-awful night,

And blasted their guns from left to right.

I got caught with a stray shell,

And man that sure hurt like hell.

But when the smoke cleared in a minute or two,

I saw more wounded men, some of ’em I knew.

They were all on the floor, moanin’ in pain,

And the brothers? Well, both were slain.

They killed each other in a jealous rage,

Because of this woman, they went on a rampage.

And then we saw, what most I did fear,

A figure on the floor, with a visage still fair.

For she I loved as none loved before,

My hope, my dream, was gone ‘evermore.

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My Friend – Khalil Gibran

My friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear—a care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee from my negligence.

The “I” in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.

I would not have thee believe in what I say nor trust in what I do—for my words are naught but thy own thoughts in sound and my deeds thy own hopes in action.

When thou sayest, “The wind bloweth eastward,” I say, “Aye, it doth blow eastward”; for I would not have thee know that my mind doth not dwell upon the wind but upon the sea.

Thou canst not understand my seafaring thoughts, nor would I have thee understand. I would be at sea alone.

When it is day with thee, my friend, it is night with me; yet even then I speak of the noontide that dances upon the hills and of the purple shadow that steals its way across the valley; for thou canst not hear the songs of my darkness nor see my wings beating against the stars—and I fain would not have thee hear or see. I would be with night alone.

When thou ascendest to thy Heaven I descend to my Hell—even then thou callest to me across the unbridgeable gulf, “My companion, my comrade,” and I call back to thee, “My comrade, my companion”—for I would not have thee see my Hell. The flame would burn thy eyesight and the smoke would crowd thy nostrils. And I love my Hell too well to have thee visit it. I would be in Hell alone.

Thou lovest Truth and Beauty and Righteousness; and I for thy sake say it is well and seemly to love these things. But in my heart I laugh at thy love. Yet I would not have thee see my laughter. I would laugh alone.

My friend, thou art good and cautious and wise; nay, thou art perfect—and I, too, speak with thee wisely and cautiously. And yet I am mad. But I mask my madness. I would be mad alone.

My friend, thou art not my friend, but how shall I make thee understand? My path is not thy path, yet together we walk, hand in hand.

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