sometimes one is surprise when one hears it beat, so close, so near and so strong. just under the skin. As Sinatra sings...I´ve got you, under my skin.
dear Ritva, hello. These days have been marked by an exhausting effort to keep my steps on the little ground i can find under my feet. It's kind of funny. As if i suddenly came to realise where i stand and what i have to do to go on. A new rhythm is being shaped little by little, towards the border of human life. In an unhuman way of life that is which seems to impose itself on us, if we pay no attention. If only we knew what love is.
love you all, thank you for the link.
dear ibb, i think you look quite alike your grandmother:) What she did is unique and precious. I wish my grandparents would do the same!
i watch the beat of the heart of the small birds i have in my room: it is so strong that their bodies almost tremble! When i let the door of the cage open, they fly for a little, then they return to have something to eat. The room seems to have evolved into a new cage for them and me. As you said: my own declared freedom lies on my capacity to open the door. This might seem enough for a long time and then i might as well stay inside. But at some point, i might wish to go out. And then freedom is as much as the limited space of the actual possible places i can go to. And there are places for the mind to be (actually following the clarity and the extend of the language i can use to think). There are borders everywhere. If freedom is understood as an ultimate unlimited condition of being, then i am not free and i do not feel free- i am facing borders almost every minute. Also, i am mortal.
4 σχόλια:
the beat, the rhythm. and the place.
or was it the borderline?
i have no ground under my feet... or just a little
love you all
Read the article here:
http://www.islam-guide.com/
sometimes one is surprise when one hears it beat, so close, so near and so strong. just under the skin.
As Sinatra sings...I´ve got you, under my skin.
dear Ritva,
hello. These days have been marked by an exhausting effort to keep my steps on the little ground i can find under my feet. It's kind of funny. As if i suddenly came to realise where i stand and what i have to do to go on. A new rhythm is being shaped little by little, towards the border of human life. In an unhuman way of life that is which seems to impose itself on us, if we pay no attention. If only we knew what love is.
love you all, thank you for the link.
dear ibb,
i think you look quite alike your grandmother:) What she did is unique and precious. I wish my grandparents would do the same!
i watch the beat of the heart of the small birds i have in my room: it is so strong that their bodies almost tremble!
When i let the door of the cage open, they fly for a little, then they return to have something to eat. The room seems to have evolved into a new cage for them and me.
As you said: my own declared freedom lies on my capacity to open the door. This might seem enough for a long time and then i might as well stay inside. But at some point, i might wish to go out. And then freedom is as much as the limited space of the actual possible places i can go to.
And there are places for the mind to be (actually following the clarity and the extend of the language i can use to think).
There are borders everywhere. If freedom is understood as an ultimate unlimited condition of being, then i am not free and i do not feel free- i am facing borders almost every minute. Also, i am mortal.
...
i will go on another time. Thank you, Ibb.
goodnight to you all.
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