I’m listening … waiting for your response to my second last post … starts with the sentence …
[b]
[/b]
I’m listening … waiting for your response to my second last post … starts with the sentence …
[b]
[/b]
No boundaries … no rules … though common courtesy compels me to share my thoughts … triggered by your posts.
Another personal anecdote describing how the word “ultreya” entered my personal vocabulary … retrieved from some old notes.
Part I
[b]
[/b]
Part II
[b]
[/b]
Your second post … spontaneous (un)censored comments are the best … a manifestation of the “get naked” prerequisite for meaningful dialogue.
Your 3rd post … to enter here one must be willing to ‘get naked’ … hang out some personal dirty laundry for public view. Easy enough for the insane … terribly difficult for sane people.
One thing I must so is to help paraphrase in the square as You are doing doing. Will go to T Mobile tomorrow to find out how to do that. Now to the first comment
I am excited and reluctant at the same time, because in deed we are moving forward.and it seems to me in not am illusion. Your comments are both worth while and exhilarating.
Now I may be crazy, but I am not insane, and there is a distinction and I can’t really say wether I can as of yet decide to get naked or stay dressed for I wpuos not want to go from crazy to truly crazy or insane
So what will happen when we I, get to a point where a decision has to be made in this regard?
We are talking boundaries here and You Yourself drew around when pushed to the inquiry about Your son.I too have such a limitation , and its that some things are so personal as to make them almost taboo. Other things such as employee relates confidentiality , comtractual, signed or understood, and others such as clearances bar trespass or go to jail. This jail is as yet virtual nut upon pass go you do not collect 200 dollars.
Dribble at times dribble. Another thing : by posting personal stuff , and that can not be avoided, we are game to such purveyors of objectivity who expressly state that its not good form to shed too much biography , especially the bad kind, for it invariably create a sense of self victimization for any and all to gawk and chatter about.
You are obviously implying organization and spelling difficulties on my part, but got to go its almost 11 pm and my wife is demanding attention
By for now. You are probably Eastern Standard Time and most likely shut eye
[b]
Now I may be crazy, but I am not insane, and there is a distinction and I can’t really say wether I can as of yet decide to get naked or stay dressed for I wpuos not want to go from crazy to truly crazy or insane
[/b]
Reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from Augustine.
[b]
”Woe to you, torrent of human custom! Who can stand against you?”
St Augustine 354-430
[/b]
Individuals who overtly challenge the prevailing “torrent of human custom” are labelled crazy or insane. It must be so or the "torrent of human custom" wouldn’t survive. OTH throughout history many individuals during their lifetime were labelled crazy or insane and a century or so later their legacy morphs into genius/hero. Crazy/insane individuals are a necessary component of human evolution.
[b]
“So what will happen when we I, get to a point where a decision has to be made in this regard?”
[/b]
We have both already crossed this bridge several times … seems to me the unconscious mind is trustworthy … no need to bother our conscious mind with such a trivial matter.
[b]
We are talking boundaries here and You Yourself drew around when pushed to the inquiry about Your son.
[/b]
A great example of what I just wrote. After reading your above sentence my first thought … “What’s he talking about?” Then I went looking for some reference to your statement. I had to scan the entire thread three times before I found it … and there it was … clear as day … in black and white. What a monstrosity! The unconscious mind really is the elephant … the rider … our conscious mind … is the fool that thinks he/she can make the elephant go where ever we want it to go.
My conscious mind is now ready to respond to your question concerning my son … suppose it now has the approval of my unconscious mind.
It would be unkind to hang out my son’s dirty laundry without his permission. OTH public information is OK.
Regarding the experience I mentioned … the internet was the enabler though there were so many other factors … many of which I’m not even aware of.
Kevin recovered from the experience … went on to get married … fathered a daughter … got divorced … fathered a second daughter in a second relationship … changed his family name and cut me off from all communications about 10 years ago. Kevin obviously chooses to deal with his “compression” in his own way … not unlike his father.
[b]
“we are game to such purveyors of objectivity who expressly state that its not good form to shed too much biography , especially the bad kind, for it invariably create a sense of self victimization for any and all to gawk and chatter about.”
[/b]
Thinking and caring about what other people will say or do is a two edged sword. While it promotes conformity it also stifles freedom and creativity.
[b]
“You are obviously implying organization and spelling difficulties on my part, but got to go its almost 11 pm and my wife is demanding attention”
[/b]
Let me be direct … I have fewer distractions, more leisure time and the subject we are discussing is … and has been for almost 25 years now … the most important thing in my life.
[b]
By for now. You are probably Eastern Standard Time and most likely shut eye
[/b]
Apparently we have a 16 hour difference in time zone … probably explains why I’m running out in front.
Seems like, as it should this thread is burrowing deeper on a far faster pace . Probably as it should, where the ‘should’ is more ties to the unconscious them the intended , more linear
approximation. So something may be amiss with the quantified precept of acquiring knowledge of the kind we are talking about. And I think I can give an answer to that, it is like a fishing expedition to the neural connectors between the conscious and the unconscious.
That area of the brain is struggling right now, the grey area between them is hard pressed to resolve the issue which way, what of , where from, where to, to whom-well that’s You,
and more ifs and but’s that come from seemingly nowhere
Bit to give justice to Your blog, ill need to digest it and can not answer until at least until tonight.
I agree this is exciting and our enthusiasm suggests as much.
Seems like, as it should this thread is burrowing deeper on a far faster pace . Probably as it should, where the ‘should’ is more ties to the unconscious them the intended , more linear
approximation. So something may be amiss with the quantified precept of acquiring knowledge of the kind we are talking about. And I think I can give an answer to that, it is like a fishing expedition to the neural connectors between the conscious and the unconscious.That area of the brain is struggling right now, the grey area between them is hard pressed to resolve the issue which way, what of , where from, where to, to whom-well that’s You,
and more ifs and but’s that come from seemingly nowhere
More paraphrasing
For me, our e-exchange is a manifestation of the emerging notion of “Collective Wisdom”.
As I understand the notion … park your ego at the door … enter a room and engage in communication … watch the magic happen.
In NT Biblical terms …
[b]
When two or more are gathered in my name … I’ll be there
[/b].
Yes and the collection implies a collector and for that we may need a third party.Your suggestion in a prior blog was to get other participants involved but maybe a ‘collector’ is a disposable concept anyway and we could set up a separate discussion about that, reminding of an infinitely. Regressive type of again: they area where we will come to inconclusive premises and / or results. We may solve this problem of collection in other ways, perhaps some e.g.some collusion or compression with the idea generated between assumptions and expectation s.
Forgive for the philosophic. Bend, trying to get out from under it. That’s another concern, the type of communication used.
J
So we are still laying the groundwork and it reminds me not too get overly far ahead, take it nice and slow, because filling the gaps is mostly approximations of the most likely events between one and the other propositional value.
So time is not the essence as You said, Pilgrim, as with You, and urgency is relative, that can be appraised retroactivalky, com conclusions both of us are still in pretty much in the fog about. Just like one of the first laid down observations that we can not fill up gaps progressively( Jobs) only regressively.
So I am patient and knowing You so far, so are You.
Meanwhile I still owe You a reaction to Your previous comments.
You have yet to ask for some kind of comment on the ones You made ‘re: Your Son, but I neither would like to put my son’s relevance up as ’ dirty laundry’ , so my replies still adhere for the unspoken rule of tit for that. Otherwise, I am getting a lot of invigorating feedback, more than enough to continue.
Another thing left unsolved and untested is the amount and quality of resiliency.I am fairly sure of my margins thus far, but I do want to evaluate and bide by Yours, of which, at this point I am more uncertain then sure.
Still working on Your previous comments and these few paragraphs were meant to lessen and lighten the shades of grey.
Yes and the collection implies a collector and for that we may need a third party.Your suggestion in a prior blog was to get other participants involved but maybe a ‘collector’ is a disposable concept anyway and we could set up a separate discussion about that, reminding of an infinitely. Regressive type of again: they area where we will come to inconclusive premises and / or results. We may solve this problem of collection in other ways, perhaps some e.g.some collusion or compression with the idea generated between assumptions and expectation s.
Forgive for the philosophic. Bend, trying to get out from under it. That’s another concern, the type of communication used.
J
First the thought I wanted to share before reading this post:
I feel compelled to paraphrase the Biblical quote I referenced in my previous post:
[b]
When two or more are gathered … not in their own name … the universe/cosmos will be there.
[/b]
J … perhaps the universe/cosmos is the collector … at the moment our “collection” goes beyond you and me … to the small community of passive readers … trickling out to each of their respective social/psychic communities.
B
Meanwhile I still owe You a reaction to Your previous comments.
You have yet to ask for some kind of comment on the ones You made ‘re: Your Son, but I neither would like to put my son’s relevance up as ’ dirty laundry’ , so my replies still adhere for the unspoken rule of tit for that. Otherwise, I am getting a lot of invigorating feedback, more than enough to continue.
The water in the river has moved on … there’s no way to locate the water that flowed by yesterday.
Another thing left unsolved and untested is the amount and quality of resiliency.I am fairly sure of my margins thus far, but I do want to evaluate and bide by Yours, of which, at this point I am more uncertain then sure.
We are both trying to let go of the river bank … let the water carry us where it wills. No way of knowing when or where we will struggle to reach the security of the river bank again. Yet again … an issue better left to our unconscious mind to manage.
B
A personal anecdote illustrating how I unwittingly allowed my unconscious mind to guide me. I sat on top of the elephant and made no attempt to influence it. One of the many occasions where I attempted to “let go of the river bank”.
From my notes on my first long walk June - September 2000
[b]
On to my pilgrimage … my first day of walking held many surprises.
I left Lourdes with no information about the ‘Camino’ in France. I had my ‘Credential’ which included a sketch of the route through Spain starting at Col Somport. I had consulted a map in Lourdes and took the road that seemed to be in the direction of Col Somport.
I’m a lifetime pencil pusher, spending most of my adult life sitting on my butt. Here I am carrying a backpack weighing approximately 35 pounds up these mountains, the French Pyrenees. My first day on the road, with no previous ‘walking’ experience, no idea that I should be carrying enough to eat and drink between ‘pit stops’; no idea where’s the next pit stop. After walking about 22 kilometers, I arrive at this Hamlet which fortunately for me includes a small restaurant. I’m starving and pooped, with a painful sweat rash in my crutch; the first day of this pilgrimage is not a lot of fun!
The restaurant is closed! … Now what? … Where will I stay? Seems I’ll pay a heavy price for my arrogance, my refusal to do my homework and plan my route ahead of time. I’m looking around for some indication of what to do next, as if some answer would fall out of the sky. Notice a billboard across the street with an advertisement for a Gite (bed and breakfast) … 4.5 kilometers away … not in the direction I’m headed. After taking a few minutes to consider my alternatives, realizing I had none, decided to try hitch hiking to the Gite. The decision to hitch hike bothered me a bit. I’m supposed to be on a walking pilgrimage! Since the Gite was in the opposite direction of my walk figured it was justified!
After several minutes of sticking my out my arm with thumb raised, Canadian body language for please give me a ride, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I didn’t see the lady approaching me … fatigue? … Daydreaming? … Who knows? As it turned out this lady owned the Gite announced on the billboard. Perhaps not terribly surprising, only local traffic uses this road. The big surprise would come on the drive to the Gite.
While driving home she tells me her husband had just returned from his pilgrimage to Santiago Compostela about a week earlier … he had started from their farm and walked for 38 days. Unbelievable! What’s the chance of this happening? Rather than paying a heavy price for my arrogance it seems I receive a blessing for my blind faith. [/b]
I have nothing like anything like Your experience, my journeys being never longer then the 23.5 marathons with my children , about say, and I am kind of guessing here, 25 years ago.
You could say that I have had a number of mystical experiences throughout my life.
Now I will interrupt this train of thought to express a feeling/thought I have, which sounds kind borderline, because at times I can’t delineate my feelings from my thoughts or cam happen. Its like a recurrence of a much lower level of being , which has not yet reached the level of conscious existence . When o realize its happening then incam feel these very rudimentary thoughts come up, and I feel then my willpower looses its efficiency and things happen . Since I’m with You in its embryonic forms , and feel rather them know about Your resiliency, the mierpe of my mind can’t distinguish between your bordered area and mine
Just now , coming from my daughter where I usually go to babysit my latest grandson I thought about this, and came upon the idea of allusions, or literature which ties in, and then hoping it would tie into whatever that evolving channel that is slowly developing between us.
In this way the pseudo margins can remain at a middle level , where affrontery, overindulgence , or aloofness can set in.
Now go back to a very popular book even longer since its publication , a. DH Lawrence relic, of which o cam only say, the title infers a wider content them it really is. That is what struck me them and it still does. It was titles , Sons and Lovers. So much for that
And I will try to get a hold of it and pull something out of it that I think would prevent it from being a tie breaker.
We are both of is dealing with sons and fathers and that focus usually pushes our own father outside into the literally grayish background
Which brings me to painting that evolved from the gold lustered middle aged focus of equal attention to both inside and out, inferring a harmony missing today at least on casual inspection .
I did learn something new that long walks bring all kinds of real life hallucinating realities and the compression of Your very long walks will certainly could could bring these about, some of which, in Your case, shows , at least to me , that these cam come about either from the inside , or the out, depending whether your sources are of behavior or action referred or, wether your travels consist like bird like existential glimpses types by sensory thought out models .
If the latter is more prevalent than the compression leads underground and the sun conscious draws in things, spirits, demons or whatever into a typificative force that pulls in these things from the outside. in an effort to neutralize this onnwe force. You are yet beyond classification to my feeling states no clear thought has yet assembled in my mind which could attempt a unified reconstruction. of lets say You at a certain age
Here I stop because You are right about the river, I am deep underwater, can hold my breath and I do, where I can grab unto something and try to leave it , where I feel I willing drown and go ashore for a bit
There went that born again, invisualize a horse, and we are sitting or I. sitting on it and he is a friend and I feel comfortable drifting with it downstream, but wonder if it would be as helpful upstream.
I think one of us will need am accommodation, while we’re at the river’s mercy, one of is need to be swimming upstream while the other upstream so as to see the other one directly, and again referring to more unconscious material graaped by a conscious upstream effort to help the other who is merely drifting down the lazy river
Incidentally what happened to Von Rivers I wonder
Or form that matter the character from Quiet flows the Don
I will have more empty spaces to fill up therefore it is learning on me that perhaps I am the one downstream bit not sure I want to permanently assume that
Yikes … my excitement just got tempered with intimidation.
You are a walking encyclopedia and your most recent walk through some of the less illumined parts of your inner labyrinth is somewhat intimidating … for me at least.
Your comments are so rich it will take me weeks or more to grasp some of the subtleties.
First yet another anecdote that popped out in reading your post … from my third walk … the most difficult and dangerous by far … of my four walks.
From my notes Ruta de la Plata summer of 2003 … I had just completed my walk from Seville to Santiago Compostella.
[b]
I had just purchased a new pair of shoes in Santiago Compostella … I was tired of wearing my walking boots. I tried wearing these new shoes for the first time in Segovia … couldn’t keep them on my feet … decided to spend some time walking around barefoot. I didn’t realize the significance of this … walking around barefoot … until several years later. I had known for several years that St John of the Cross was associated with St Teresa of Avila and the reformation of the Carmelite Order … the new order being called the Discalced Carmelites. “Discalced Carmelites - Wikipedia” It would be several more years before I learned what the word ‘discalced’ meant. Several years after this experience … at mass in Guelph … the Priest explained the word during his homily … it means ‘barefoot’. I still wonder at the connection … imagination?
Also, while wandering around a park … in a valley in Segovia … I felt compelled to climb up a hill and check out a cave that I had noticed. The cave was huge. I walked along inside until it became very dark, with the feeling that I was being invited to walk into the ‘darkness’ … deeper into the bowels of the cave. I lacked the courage to respond to this invitation and started to think about St John of the Cross’s book “The Dark Night of the Soul”. This book describes his soul’s journey, through darkness, to union with God. Since I had just refused to walk into the darkness of the cave I had the feeling my soul wasn’t yet ready for union with God. A bit disappointing. I have since often recalled this experience when ‘walking into the unknown’ … which incidentally happens quite often. For me the ‘unknown’ is the equivalent of the ‘dark night’ in St John’s book.
[/b]
A couple of thoughts that jumped out at me:
[b]
Its like a recurrence of a much lower level of being , which has not yet reached the level of conscious existence .
[/b]
For me, I wwould change one word … the word “lower” to the word “higher”.
[b]
Now go back to a very popular book even longer since its publication , a William Goldman relic, of which o cam only say, the title infers a wider content them it really is. That is what struck me them and it still does. It was titles , Sons and Lovers.
[/b]
You often refer to some written work that when I go to get some information I stumble on something that seems so relevant. In this case two things:
When I first gazed at the picture of my dad I recognized the man I never knew … I never saw a look like the one on my father’s face in the picture. Maybe you could do me a favor and tell me about my dad … your impressions from the photo.
[b]
Someone pointed out to me that the most sympathetic characters in my books always died miserably. I didn’t consciously know I was doing that. I didn’t. I mean, I didn’t wake up each morning and think, today I think I’ll make a really terrific guy so I can kill him. It just worked out that way. I haven’t written a novel in over a decade… and someone very wise suggested that I might have stopped writing novels because my rage was gone. It’s possible. All this doesn’t mean a helluva lot, except probably there is a reason I was the guy who gave Babe over to Szell in the “Is it safe?” scene and that I was the guy who put Westley into The Machine. I think I have a way with pain. When I come to that kind of sequence I have a certain confidence that I can make it play. Because I come from such a dark corner.
[/b]
The highlighted text reminds me of my reaction to the first occurrence of your word “compression” . I haven’t mentioned it yet but my thinking eventually went to “decompression chamber” . I started to think of my walks as my personal “decompression chamber” . I see Goldman refering to his writings as his personal “decompression chamber” .
Good morning Pilgrim. Just woke up from my slumber, and the first thing that struck me how very ambitious the mind is. I will spend most of the morning in the small cafe that we have our breakfast to devote more time to writing, because I have a fear of a growing suspicion that my work really I’d a lazy man’s way to swim down river. The thought of comparing Buddha and Parmenedes/Heraclitus came to me that I would like to expand upon for Heraclitus the river was a subjective deconstruction where his moorings were undetermined and relative only to his perceptions as for Buddha it was tied or moored between two sides at the same location, in effect of transporting passengers who probably traveled the river in all its length.For Buddha, it was a trancendenta experience.
But later on this
As for Your father, I will study the face and presumably Your mom who is pictured with him and attempt to describe my impressions.
But that, after breakfast.
The overabundance of symbolism has a reason: it is the nearly absolute opening of the doors of perception, as Huxley refers to it, and James Joyce is capable to pull it off.
It is reinforced by various schools of thought, but mostly by aetistox devices which unhapmered, have successfully overcome the resistance through indirect channels , since the first I believe, work had opened the way. Marcel Duchamp’s Nude descending the Stairs was such a milestone from which many others followed
This breaking up of the visual field waa actually a forerunner
and anesthesia to those very disturbed individuals who felt that to let.go of the glorious illuminated texts of prerealism, was almost a sin.
My break time as I have to scroll back and look at Your father and the lady with him, who I am presuming to be Your mother.
He appears young , very hopeful and full of life , who wouldn’t be with a gorgeous doll like the gal beside him.
Maybe its bedore he went to join the WW 1 effort, I would be intrigued to see a picture of him after he came back.Like good old Minnesota from whence Yours truly has gone west after mom got very sick of smoking herself to death gaining maybe 10 more years of like and if I get my act together where I can send picture along. Including my own dad and of course old grand dad, since this regression goes way down the line , confusedly exposing the paradoxically ambiguous dilemma , as to what block the chip is supposed be off from.
Nevertheless , that reduction is prophetically held by its own limit, At most only three generations at most…
Since one picture is worth much more than all the genealogical volumes one can keep his hand on, at the moment I’m pressed to go there verbatim, until I figure out, instead of dwelling in 2 how to get it across paralleling constantly any precept i’ve notion of it coming across /the river.
So that’s my next big project .
My friend of my opening character of whom I will hope to say more , somewhat less them volumes, I may see soon and have some talking with if I find him so inclined , but it is really difficult to talk to him nowedays.
To give You an example, I saw him a few days after that , and all I could get out of him was how thrilled he was to cut down on drink because he found a way to reach heavenly highs by building a foundation with whisky and ginger ale to good grade marijuana. Nonreal problems with the shakes and hangovers nor finding himself in unfamiliar situations morning after
From here downstream , unconventionality . Now I’m searching for the song that phrase enimates from.
Later, it may even more.
When I was young it seemed that life was so wonderful, a miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical,
And all the birds in the trees, well, they’d be singing so happily , joyfully, playfully watching me
But then they send me away to teach me how to be sensible logical , responsible, practical,
And they showed me a world where I could be so dependable , clinical, intellectual, cynical
There are times when all the world is asleep , the questions run too deep for such a simple man
Won’t you please please tell me what we’ve learned I know it sounds absurd but please tell me who I am
Now watch what you say or they’ll be calling you a radical , liberal, fanatical, criminal
Won’t you sign up your name, we’d like to feel you’re acceptable, respectable, presentable, a vegetable
At night when all the world is asleep
The questions run so deep
For such a simple man
Won’t you please please tell me what’s learned
I know it sounds absurd , but please tell me who I am.
Later .
Right or wrong … seems we are clinging to the river bank at the moment … necessary to retain sanity.
Your friend Peter … just reread your opening post … my mind wants to focus on the opening and closing words:
[b]
This despicable man …
[/b]
[b]
… the hopeless romantic
[/b]
a perfect synopsis of the individual … a tribute to your depth of perception.
sad that your friend hasn’t stumbled on an appropriate “decompression chamber” … a necessary prerequisite to exploit the merit of his time spent in Hell.
PS
I’m reminded of the story of Helen Keller … her time in Hell may have been the reservoir she drew on to construct her impressive contribution to the human family.
More emerging thoughts …
Paraphrasing the question “Who am I” …
What is the contribution I’m being call on to make to the human family?
[b]
To whom much is given … much is expected.
[/b]
To push that to its most extreme,
From those to whom everything is given( good and bad), everything is expected.
I’m purposefully reading into it, in light of a not yet worn out Nietzsche classics 'Beyond Good and Evil. - although I am hard pressed for total agreement with it.