living takes life
first, the blood moon;musings on gift, gratitude, and a way of viewing animals and life akin to my own. the ethics of eating meat: a radical view is also worth a read if you're so inclined; another more comprehensive look at meat and alternatives than is typical. i'd be interested to hear your thoughts.
second, the eerie connections between my own thought and struggles and those portrayed in the novel to which i'm currently engaged. even stranger is the fact that within the novel a character is questioning whether a companion is writing him into a story of hers; i feel as though i am that character, though somewhat abstractly, but in some instances it is almost deja vu: thoughts always swirling around my mind appearing on the page magically, as an apparition of sorts. is it leaving myself open and using what is there, or is it a coincidental connection that our questions are peculiarly similar? if i read this novel a year ago, or come back to it next year, or even next month, will the words be the same, will they ring with the same intensity and meaning? the engaging of the heart and its suitors, the will to do good (whatever that may be), the search for meaning, the blurring line between love and care, the feeling of (never) being at home. intention and what we're left with.
cold, blind. breath in, breath out. he does not accept the charge; he does not believe in it's truth. truth is not spoken in anger. truth is spoken, if it ever comes to be spoken, in love. the gaze of love is not deluded. love sees what is best in the beloved, even when the best in the beloved finds it hard to emerge in the light. who is marijana? a nurse from dubrovnik with a short waist and yellow teeth and not bad legs? who except he, with the gaze of love, sees the shy, sloe-eyed gazelle hiding within?
this is what elizabeth costello does not understand. eliazbeth costello thinks of him as a punishment brought down to blight the last days of her life, an incomprehensible penance she is sentenced to speak, to recite, to repeat. she looks on him with distaste, with dismay, with exasperation, with a sinking heart, with everything but love. well, when he next catches up with her he will give her a lesson. not cold, he will say, not french either. a man who sees the world in his own way and who loves in his own way. and a man who not too long ago lost part of his own body: do not forget that. have a little charity, he will say. the perhaps you may find it in you to write.
third, sunday morning yoga is humbling and challenging me fully, mind, body, and spirit, and for that i am grateful. now if i could only carry that with me always. soon, soon.
slightly related, since coming into an organic spirituality, i find myself comparing and contrasting and placing my experience in the scope of my little knowledge of other religions and their popular interpretations. i'd like to become better acquainted with other's spiritual practices and readings, particularly those more popular, but don't quite know where to start; how would attending a gathering be looked upon? what about questioning? is there still such a hierarchical structure and authority? could you suggest faiths that may be more open to such things? religion is a force that even those who believe don't truly come to grips with; a search for salvation of sorts not completely understood but accepted none the less, something to believe in when nothing else can be found but of what consequence?
how would you describe your spirituality/religion, if any? how did you come to where you are? are you part of any sort of community of like minded folk? do/have you read any spiritual texts, and what are your thoughts?
i've come to the conclusion that i'm really just trying to get down into the depths of the human condition and life in nearly all of my endeavors thus far, whether consciously or not. but what else is there?
don't give up on nihilism
things are still the same, they're still not ok
we're clocked in and strung out on the day to day.
there's more to life than love and comfort,
there's more to life than books, you know.
don't give up on the big fear -
the one that brought you here.
the future is slow panic,
a necromantic, padantic, reagonimic legacy
that still pits the organic vs. the machined.
so don't give up on nihilism.
there's more to life than love and comfort
college won't get you off the hook.
there's more to life than self satisfaction,
there's more to life than books (yes, much more)
you were right when you were angry and scared,
don't second guess your fears -
it's still you and me against the coming years.
-anthony
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second, the eerie connections between my own thought and struggles and those portrayed in the novel to which i'm currently engaged. even stranger is the fact that within the novel a character is questioning whether a companion is writing him into a story of hers; i feel as though i am that character, though somewhat abstractly, but in some instances it is almost deja vu: thoughts always swirling around my mind appearing on the page magically, as an apparition of sorts. is it leaving myself open and using what is there, or is it a coincidental connection that our questions are peculiarly similar? if i read this novel a year ago, or come back to it next year, or even next month, will the words be the same, will they ring with the same intensity and meaning? the engaging of the heart and its suitors, the will to do good (whatever that may be), the search for meaning, the blurring line between love and care, the feeling of (never) being at home. intention and what we're left with.
cold, blind. breath in, breath out. he does not accept the charge; he does not believe in it's truth. truth is not spoken in anger. truth is spoken, if it ever comes to be spoken, in love. the gaze of love is not deluded. love sees what is best in the beloved, even when the best in the beloved finds it hard to emerge in the light. who is marijana? a nurse from dubrovnik with a short waist and yellow teeth and not bad legs? who except he, with the gaze of love, sees the shy, sloe-eyed gazelle hiding within?
this is what elizabeth costello does not understand. eliazbeth costello thinks of him as a punishment brought down to blight the last days of her life, an incomprehensible penance she is sentenced to speak, to recite, to repeat. she looks on him with distaste, with dismay, with exasperation, with a sinking heart, with everything but love. well, when he next catches up with her he will give her a lesson. not cold, he will say, not french either. a man who sees the world in his own way and who loves in his own way. and a man who not too long ago lost part of his own body: do not forget that. have a little charity, he will say. the perhaps you may find it in you to write.
third, sunday morning yoga is humbling and challenging me fully, mind, body, and spirit, and for that i am grateful. now if i could only carry that with me always. soon, soon.
slightly related, since coming into an organic spirituality, i find myself comparing and contrasting and placing my experience in the scope of my little knowledge of other religions and their popular interpretations. i'd like to become better acquainted with other's spiritual practices and readings, particularly those more popular, but don't quite know where to start; how would attending a gathering be looked upon? what about questioning? is there still such a hierarchical structure and authority? could you suggest faiths that may be more open to such things? religion is a force that even those who believe don't truly come to grips with; a search for salvation of sorts not completely understood but accepted none the less, something to believe in when nothing else can be found but of what consequence?
how would you describe your spirituality/religion, if any? how did you come to where you are? are you part of any sort of community of like minded folk? do/have you read any spiritual texts, and what are your thoughts?
i've come to the conclusion that i'm really just trying to get down into the depths of the human condition and life in nearly all of my endeavors thus far, whether consciously or not. but what else is there?
don't give up on nihilism
things are still the same, they're still not ok
we're clocked in and strung out on the day to day.
there's more to life than love and comfort,
there's more to life than books, you know.
don't give up on the big fear -
the one that brought you here.
the future is slow panic,
a necromantic, padantic, reagonimic legacy
that still pits the organic vs. the machined.
so don't give up on nihilism.
there's more to life than love and comfort
college won't get you off the hook.
there's more to life than self satisfaction,
there's more to life than books (yes, much more)
you were right when you were angry and scared,
don't second guess your fears -
it's still you and me against the coming years.
-anthony
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