within/without: the loss of privacy

May 31, 2010 § Leave a comment

My 3QuarksDaily subscription directed me towards this terribly relevant article titled ‘Life In A Glasshouse’.

Our Deepest Fear

May 28, 2010 § Leave a comment

Our Deepest Fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear
is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness,
that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?
Actually who are we not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking
so that other people
won’t feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine as children do.
We were born to make manifest
the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.
And when we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
our presence automatically liberates others.

– Marianne Williamson

Dear Beat

May 27, 2010 § Leave a comment

Dear Beat.

Simple thank-you notes to just about anyone and anything— here it is to ‘Beat’.

‘dream, hope, wish, quest’

May 27, 2010 § Leave a comment

Disenchantment.

Despite the numerous ways to lose oneself, there is an unease.

Dreams aren’t enough, wishful thinking loses steam, hoping seems like a waste of energy, and the quest is abandoned even before it was begun.

However, there are those that bring them to realization.

It isn’t that  far-fetched after all.

Call me Mars-Orwell

May 27, 2010 § Leave a comment

Just kidding, still Mars.  I just took this ‘ Which Crazy Writer are you?’ quiz that has been floating around in Twitter-istan and apparently, I’m George Orwell.  Nice!

George Orwell

Some call you a martyr; you just like to think of yourself as selfless. Coming from a comfortable, upper-middle-class family, you would choose to live in poverty for years just to see how the other half lives. You don’t always make the best choices – moving to a cold, rainy Scottish Isle, hundreds of miles away from a real hospital, when you’re dying of tuberculosis? Even though you adore Socialist ideals, you doubt that any country can bring it into being without turning to tyrrany. As a matter of fact, you happen to think that power corrupts everyone it touches… but you shouldn’t say too much, in case They’re watching. After all, just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean that they’re not after you.

Poemas: ‘…saving a place in our story.’

May 27, 2010 § Leave a comment

Some more that have kick-started the imagination more than once…

The Letter
by Mary Ruefle

Beloved, men in thick green coats came crunching
through the snow, the insignia on their shoulders
of uncertain origin, a country I could not be sure of,
a salute so terrifying I heard myself lying to avoid
arrest, and was arrested along with Jocko, whose tear
had snapped off, a tiny icicle he put in his mouth.

« Read the rest of this entry »

‘…Past the cinema…’

May 26, 2010 § Leave a comment

Meeting with My Father in the Orchard

Past noon. Past the cinema

with the tall sorrowful walls

on the point of coming down, I enter the orchard.

Show over, all of them have gone:

day laborers, dogs and doors.

My father is standing in front of a fig tree.

My mother has died. The children, grown old.

He’s alone, small threads of air weave in and out of his tattered clothes.

For fear of getting too close and startling him with my living presence, I want to go straight by, the strange one now with white hair whom he asks,

“Who’s that there?” “Father, it’s me, your son.”

“Does your mother know you’re back. Will you stay and eat?”

“Father, for years now your wife has lain at rest

by your side in the town graveyard.”

Then, as if he has divined everything,

he calls me by my childhood name

and gives me a fig.

So we met up, the living and the dead.

Then, each went on his way.

by Homero Aridjis

Translated by George McWhirtier

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