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gurdonark"Surrender, surrender, but don't give yourself away"--old Cheap Trick song
The hurricane's effects made no difference here in north Texas, except perhaps our evenings are a bit cool for this time in July. I sometimes feel badly that inclement weather elsewhere can mean a pleasing rain here. I should see this as one more sign of the interconnectedness of things, and not take the angle that my burst of cool breeze is just a storm elsewhere, spent before reaching me.
Tonight I think about knowing and being known--of the sense that I have that I show so very much of myself to people; of the sense that I have that I rarely show myself at all. The two senses exist, and coincide, and complement, and contradict. I suspect they show less a mystical side in me than that my feelings don't always make sense.
I think I summarize life into neat boxes--plainly wrapped, perhaps, but satisfying nonetheless. It's not so much that I compartmentalize--that's far too complicated. It's more that I'm a bit of Hartmann luggage--sturdy, a bit declasse, traditional, almost fun to see rolling off the luggage carousel. I love that term--"luggage carousel". I wish there were a brass ring.
I think that the problem with self-obsession is that it's a bit like playing Clue about one's own life. I think I was Colonel Mustard, and I was in the dining room, with the wrench (and Heaven knows why, really). But wait! No, I was Miss Peacock, and I was in the library, with the gun. But no matter how many cards I acquire, when the "mystery kit" is opened, I gain very litle insight into my own mysterious mind. But that's the problem, isn't it? I'm not so much a mystery as a bundle of thoughts and feelings. I'm a redwire station--a rather routine side-rail electric transformer, wires askew, a bit malfunctioned, but still the only generator I have.
I went once to Wakefield, Yorkshire, with a friend, to search out obscure Bill Nelson albums and soak in an English town not famed for tourist things. I tend to believe that the best touring happens where the touring doesn't happen, if you see my meaning.
When we first got off the train, we went to a mailman and asked where the address for our bed and breakfast might be. "Haven't a clue", he said, in one of those rich, singsong Yorkshire accents we could barely make out. When I think of myself, lately, I must say "I haven't a clue", and I hope my inner voice has just such a charming accent.
The hurricane's effects made no difference here in north Texas, except perhaps our evenings are a bit cool for this time in July. I sometimes feel badly that inclement weather elsewhere can mean a pleasing rain here. I should see this as one more sign of the interconnectedness of things, and not take the angle that my burst of cool breeze is just a storm elsewhere, spent before reaching me.
Tonight I think about knowing and being known--of the sense that I have that I show so very much of myself to people; of the sense that I have that I rarely show myself at all. The two senses exist, and coincide, and complement, and contradict. I suspect they show less a mystical side in me than that my feelings don't always make sense.
I think I summarize life into neat boxes--plainly wrapped, perhaps, but satisfying nonetheless. It's not so much that I compartmentalize--that's far too complicated. It's more that I'm a bit of Hartmann luggage--sturdy, a bit declasse, traditional, almost fun to see rolling off the luggage carousel. I love that term--"luggage carousel". I wish there were a brass ring.
I think that the problem with self-obsession is that it's a bit like playing Clue about one's own life. I think I was Colonel Mustard, and I was in the dining room, with the wrench (and Heaven knows why, really). But wait! No, I was Miss Peacock, and I was in the library, with the gun. But no matter how many cards I acquire, when the "mystery kit" is opened, I gain very litle insight into my own mysterious mind. But that's the problem, isn't it? I'm not so much a mystery as a bundle of thoughts and feelings. I'm a redwire station--a rather routine side-rail electric transformer, wires askew, a bit malfunctioned, but still the only generator I have.
I went once to Wakefield, Yorkshire, with a friend, to search out obscure Bill Nelson albums and soak in an English town not famed for tourist things. I tend to believe that the best touring happens where the touring doesn't happen, if you see my meaning.
When we first got off the train, we went to a mailman and asked where the address for our bed and breakfast might be. "Haven't a clue", he said, in one of those rich, singsong Yorkshire accents we could barely make out. When I think of myself, lately, I must say "I haven't a clue", and I hope my inner voice has just such a charming accent.
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no subject
Date: 2003-07-15 06:55 pm (UTC)When you got off the train, did you mind the gap? lol
no subject
Date: 2003-07-16 04:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-15 06:57 pm (UTC)btw, this afternoon i reread my license from Gurdonark to Be Really Me, as printed out when you made that wonderful post. i realized i've never claimed the poem you offered us. if you were to write me a poem, i'd be so happy! but only if you have time to do it. :)
no subject
Date: 2003-07-16 04:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-15 07:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-16 04:15 am (UTC)coincidence?
Date: 2003-07-15 09:19 pm (UTC)setting: emperor wu has invited bodhidharma who has just arrived in china, to his court. Buddhism is prevalent in China but no enlightened masters had visited thus far
Emperor asks, I have built many monasteries, performed countless good deeds, and been a generous patron of buddhism. What merit have i earned?
None whatsoever, replied bodhidharma.
Emp Wu: What then are the holy teachings of buddhism?
Limitless emptiness and nothing holy in it.
Somewhat confused, the emperor demanded, if all is void, then tell me, who are you?
I have no idea, replied the bodhidharma.
Re: coincidence?
Date: 2003-07-16 02:05 am (UTC)Re: coincidence?
Date: 2003-07-16 09:26 am (UTC)its a cute little book with questions and contemplations regarding the cards, or you can use the cards without them, sort of like drawing a fortune cookie or something and then reading a koan...
Re: coincidence?
Date: 2003-07-17 12:58 am (UTC)Re: coincidence?
Date: 2003-07-17 11:27 am (UTC)what interests you about the baghavad gita?
Re: coincidence?
Date: 2003-07-22 01:33 am (UTC)Re: coincidence?
Date: 2003-07-22 10:39 am (UTC)Re: coincidence?
Date: 2003-07-16 04:15 am (UTC)Re: coincidence?
Date: 2003-07-16 09:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-15 10:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-16 04:16 am (UTC)You don't like walking suburban pastures? What could be better?
no subject
Date: 2003-07-16 02:12 am (UTC)But then, as I grow older and learn new (sometimes surprising) things about myself, I'm finding that I'm not such a bad person after all. At least, not the cynical imposter I thought I was as a teen. It kind of makes each day an adventure. What facet will be called upon today? And in this vein, we should perhaps feel grateful to people who test us for helping us to get to know ourselves better. A pretty Eastern way of looking at things, but I find it *can* work (nobody's perfect!)
Also, I so much prefer going to non-touristy places, or at least travelling to places out of season. If you want to learn what everyone else knows about a place, read the book, that's what I say.
no subject
Date: 2003-07-16 04:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-07-16 07:03 am (UTC)Speaking of Clueless, I saw recently that Alicia Silverstone has a new television show. And I can't believe how excited I am by this development.
(Apologies for the irrelevance of this comment.)
no subject
Date: 2003-07-16 09:36 am (UTC)I like Alicia Silverstone, and I'm not sure quite why. But I do.