Moments pass by as life itself does
are we the train or the tone sitting in the train
Let us look at what moment which contemplation frames the picture I thought I was in,
it is always a state of being that determines what we sense and perceive. Our emotional state. Opening always the door for Vuja dé or in modern language: synchronicity or meaning Full coincidence
A lot a unconscious awareness …. frameless worlds must open these curtains…might we say: as long as they are frameless there is nothing. The moment we ‘recognize’ moments from the past we are not communication with the field … so called …remote viewing.
Still we build up
The truth about hypnosis
There is only trance that opens the intensity of your senses… the sub-modalities …your peripheral vision
Small reality tunnels that separate
If you hold them for real
Music states the reality tunnel mostly in a lovely way. We frame moments, people, occasions, emotions. 30 years later you hear the same song…out of nowhere.
2013 I heard it again
Always good to be with:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Z66wVo7uNw
Curtis Mayfield
MoVe on up. just a piece in the context of Movement. About saying goodbye, reunion, blossoming and entering into renewal while retaining the good.
Barely a week ago I sold my house. This is how moving from one place to another comes about. Had hoped for Antwerp and Rotterdam, or somewhere abroad. For now it is The Hague. Still a move. Then comes the packing, which is looking back at everything you have collected. It is also saying goodbye to paths, roads, voices, feelings, memories, images and events. It is not a abrupt farewell – as if you were going to a prison – where every physical, visual and auditory memory is hidden away. It is a worthy farewell that I take time for. Saying goodbye… moving, well that’s what a lot is about… it’s one thing.
To say goodbye is to die a little; dying to what one loves. One leaves a little of oneself behind in every hour and every place.
( Partir, c’est mourir un peu; c’est mourir à ce qu’on aime. On laisse un peu de oi-même en toute heure et dans tout lieu.
Bron: Rondel de I’adieu (1891)
You can rightly say bravely that saying goodbye is the most fundamental part of our lives. The greatest art: what do you leave behind, what after, what do you take with you? Do it with dignity and consideration. Understand that in any key. I personally saw my parents go; seeing loved ones move to the other side; left jobs behind; houses, poems, course materials, food, cars, schools, seminars, classes, music, photos, books, LPs, cassette tapes… And well, things and people I believed in, belief systems in themselves… was really deeply convinced that what was being shared was true. Now a place to live again, a place full of emotions. In addition to going elsewhere…
Yes… “It is not the cutting that hurts so much, but the being cut off,” Maria Vasalis murmurs in one of the most beautiful sentences in world literature. It can be compelling, but also enlightening… oh how much and often everything is explained in rashness… While everything is immediate and forever and then in one not… We live by sharing, we connect and let go… that is the game of life. In everything you try to be authentic and real, tied to yourself and your original feeling. Paying attention and rediscovering your feelings, that’s what it’s all about.
Somewhere a thought and feeling wanders from everyone and everything, it radiates when you grasp it and take it in for a moment. Everything carries a touch. In that sense, saying goodbye is reconsideration. ‘À la recherche du temps perdu’, Proust would say. Everything revives and sometimes you know you have to take it out of the mothballs and revive it. How do you deal with that? Tender, preferably. Brutal when you are bad for yourself or when others are pulling on you. Everything is energy, that is more than just the meaning you give or gave to it. It has been a connection and that connection is there every moment you look back on it.
In my wisdom… I have decided to let everything, all my things, poems, writings, feelings pass through my hands. I don’t take everything with me, but I do take a small anchor or token of everything. I organize it in memory, don’t create anything new. A small portion every day, for the next few weeks. It is certain that the beautiful weather will receive attention and will revive better. Pain also… has a place…
Staring turns out to be an activity in itself, I notice. “Ins blue hinein’, turn around, check, remember, be ashamed, learn and delay…. I once had a connection with all that is there. Sometimes forgotten, sometimes almost permanently present and I ‘have to’ face it now… because the farewell was already there. Then again the attempt to think, to look at the decisions that turned out so wrong, the intentions – our own intentions – are always ‘good’. You notice… that is relative, ‘wiser now you would do it differently’ and you hope for recovery. Then you turn… Sometimes you don’t want to turn anymore, as in the song: ‘it’s a deep blue sea’ or ‘a brand new start’
BRAND NEW START: PAUL WELLER
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uma0WjecyKE
It’s a very deep sea, Paul Weller
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZPo8If6UQI
The sentence is sweet: everything of value is defenseless… by Lucebert… After all, once upon a time meaning and lives again. In addition to memory, it has taken on other forms. An extra dimension, the melancholy comes over me… so characteristic of the softness that colors the memory. Loulou’s first steps, a meter or two. Preparing breakfast in the Bert and Ernie drum for my loved one. Charlie, the dog, who slipped on the wooden floor, looking back at photos, conversations, faces, listening to music.
Inertness is then part of the reverie for a while. Hours pass. The urge to do something with it is something in itself, it takes on a life of its own. And oh, ‘your planning’, ‘daily life’, some contemplation? I would advise taking a ‘moving day’ every month, to give the so-called ‘backburners’ – the thoughts and spins of the past month – a place. Dwell on the seemingly forgotten memories. I stagnate. The world is fantastic… I read a piece from myself when I was 19: ‘Happiness is the ability to make your imagination at the moment itself’.
Long arguments rattle through my head, tingling through my body. Everything is poetry and I don’t want to get rid of anything. Do I start again then? Do I detach myself from everything? Is there still a core in the circle, a nail on which I once hung everything? Uncertainty is pain and joy; at the same time also the awareness of a changing reality. The good thing about the past is that it’s over? Some ‘old things’ and people, thoughts and feelings will renew better. Remote view on that!
In fact, there should be a recipe for it, you used to call it a ritual. On the other hand, they say that the amount of matter is small and space is large. That everything returns until the substances return, ergo… lives on somewhere in another form. My recipe is attention, something every day… taking an hour or so… very consciously unpacking everything and ‘packing’ it, repacking it. View, feel and reorder everything with gratitude. It’s funny that you literally unpack it again in the other place. At some point you want to break the daily routine or you are more likely to break it when you move. We move from one place to another every day; from one emotion to another; from one person to another…; from one role to another. At the end of the day, let everything pass through you. Organize it. Cherish it. I always talked and talk to my loved one and my child at night, silently with a hand above their head or on their body and wishing them all the sweetness.
I’ll keep on diving til I reach the ends,
dredging up the past to drive me round the bendz,
what is it in me that I can’t forget
I keep finding so much that I now regret.
But no, on I go down into the depths
turning things over that are better left
dredging up the past that has gone for good
trying to polish up what is rotting wood.
Something inside takes me down again
diving not for goblets but tin cans
dredging up the past for reasons so rife
passing bits of wrecks that once passed for life.
But I’ll keep on diving till I drown the sea,
of things not worth, even mentioning
perhaps I’ll come to the surface and come to my senses
but it’s a very deep sea around my own Devizes.
Diving, diving.
Just a few more sentences… You might say
Nicht nur denke ich daran
weg zu gehen
ich gehe
damit woran ich klebe nicht
aus einem Grund
(Oorzaken en een begin 1983)
Not only am I thinking about
leaving
I am not leaving
with what I am attached to
for a reason
Oh well, upon contemplation, what was no longer seen is born again
You turn and turn
What you no longer knew, so to speak, was something… your life as a storehouse
The anchors, the amulets, the memories, the shared feelings
And you know
Most celebrated or
beaten to pieces by who
By what
Or cherished for something
Everything is attention
Every farewell shows that
Ach en bij beschouwing is dan weer geboren wat even niet meer gezien was
Je keert en keert
Waarvan je niet meer wist, zo gezegd, dat het er wat… je leven als pakhuis
De ankers, de amuletten, de herinneringen, de gedeelde gevoelens
En weet je
Meest gevierd of
kapot geslagen door wie
Door wat
Of juist gekoesterd om wat
Alles is aandacht
Dat laat elk afscheid zien
