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aka,om
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Joined: 12/6/2008
Msg: 1502 | |
| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Bird Eyes.
Posted: 3/8/2009 9:59:49 AM | ```````
outside my window
the birds
gather on a tree
I've often wondered
through my window
if the birds
can see me
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oh, I just had to stop in and say hi, too, Blitz, is all...:) | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes.
Posted: 3/8/2009 10:22:07 AM |
I volunteer to drown
in all this self recognition
A woman in a wheel chair
with dreams of flight
Blitz the world needs more people like you!
What a great page of poetry and yay Ink is back and in fine form I see. | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes.
Posted: 3/8/2009 10:32:29 AM | I keep forgetting they’re not mine to keep
Black fuzzy heads and big eyes
They lived inside me
And probably always will
To the day I die
And I will remember that first look
When our eyes met
Mine as curious as theirs
We were both being born again. | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes.
Posted: 3/8/2009 7:50:33 PM | .
Subject: Hardness
Feminine versus masculine certainly makes sense if we were talking about a
general economy. The domestic mode of production with the family at the
center is well dispersed at the planetary level. Certainly one explanation
is that within each DMP, each instance, there are gender specific roles. In
Africa it has been shown that women in Tanzania were the ones to develop
market gardens for the specific purpose of obtaining additional income to
augment the income that men had to obtain by leaving the home and working in
distant mines, etc.
Originally the people herded cattle on a semi-nomadic basis, but this was
prevented in large part due to English colonizers taking the land and making
the land, the best land into private farms. The result was the displacement
of millions of people onto steep hillsides and marginal farmlands for
sustainable. When the 'restrictive economy' of the British colonizers came
to an end the remaining private farms were no longer sufficient - due to
erosion and increased population - to supply incomes to farm laborers, and
the country. So some of the land was returned to the indigenous people, and
used to obtain sustenance, however. The outcome was not entirely successful
immediately since the land was subject to over exploitation. The land also
eroded horrendously, and this caused siltation of the watercourses, disease,
and food shortages.
The solution to the general economies problem did occur though in the last
twenty years due to a shift to more or less to the DMP or domestic mode of
production which essentially is families with self-sufficient means of
production of food, shelter and clothing. The develop and research into
permanent terraces to halt accelerating soil erosion, and the establishment
of market gardens by women while the men were often away working in
industrial mining and farming facilities, and the use of organic and
indigenous methods of farming provided a means to achieve the
self-sufficiency of the these peoples and at the same time protect
environmental resources, biodiversity.
this is
Seneca talking at the very beginning of Book II of On Favours
about *how* to give: ""We should give as we would wish to have
things given to us -- above all, gladly, without delay, and without
hesitation.
No gratitude is felt for a favour which has long stuck to
the hands of whoever granted it, which he seemed unhappy to let
go, giving as though he were robbing himself... Hesitation is the
next thing to refusal. It never inspires gratitude." This is Seneca,
Who couldn't relate to shit like this?
This appears to be in contrast with a least one form of gift. The absolute
gift.
The absolute gift is one that the giver of expects no return. The world as a
*given* is one such gift. Every phenomenon in the world is free! The rest is
nothing else except the exchange of our labours, or our time, we have lots of.
A Bhuddist can appreaciate this.
The principle of 'reciprocity' in the giving of gifts is well known. The
gift is the basis of economies without cash. In order to be able to give one
has to learn how to receive.
Many of the greatest gifts the world has to offer are free. How many friends
do I have that I paid something for?
Anyone who is frustrated, may lose their idealism, and anyone who is
frustrated long enough can become demoralized, no longer empowered of
idealism. [paraphrased, Anthony Storr].
"Hold on to what you believe in...." Sarah MacLaughlin
.... deconstructed from within.
That.... is doing with the Scholastics, the
ontological argument for the existence of God, and the ontological
difference between essence and existence. This is what Derrida says in
On Given Time:
"Madness.. would also be that of forgetting, of a given
and desired forgetting, not as a negative experience therefore, like
amnesia and loss of memory, but as the affirmative condition of the
gift."
This is one of the themes I keep repeating and revising. It
has to do with my reading of Nietzsche's "active forgetting" which I
commented on with regards to Lyotard .
With active forgetting you get the sacrifice of the understanding which is
the condition of the happening of being (Ereignis) and a way of
'understanding' the so called "Turn" in Heidgger.
By forgetting ...you mean to say "letting things be forgotten for
a time" or "letting matters be forgotten for all time"? Perhaps you are
saying that in the act of appropriation that in order to allow for new
appropriation, it is necessary to dis appropriate by simply not remembering.
Tru:
I think remembering and forgetting have two distinct connotations.
Forgetting can also means forgiving, and remembering can mean not forgiving
depending on the context. Both memory and imagination are faculties of the
soul, or psyche; however forgiveness is not a faculty of the soul, it is
consequence of an act of love. The act consists in the trespass being
forgiven. I first forgive myself for the hurt that has angered me, and then
I pass this on to the transgressor to protect him from his hurt, which is | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes.
Posted: 3/13/2009 11:28:54 AM | Thanx om.......I love this
Af you are so sweet thank you. And your poem is absolutely endearing
Trulio.........I believe forgiving is the highest form of love. But forgiving many times cannot be instantaneous. Usually when people trespass or commit acts against us it creates an anger we have to deal with. True forgiveness can only come when we are able to let go of the angry feelings it brings up in us. If the whole world woke up tomorrow and all have been forgiven with no chance of being wronged again. What kind of world would it be? How much anger and resentment would be removed from our daily lives? I know this is idealistic but we can strive to create these conditions in our own lives, one step, one life at a time. | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes.
Posted: 3/13/2009 5:42:40 PM | bitz,
Well, I was elaborating on forgetting. Which in one sense is forgiving, and I think that only God forgives. Even a slight afront, or insinuation, is forgiven...when it is forgotten/forgotten. Anger is, to me, ignorance and fear, all in one.... | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes.
Posted: 3/13/2009 8:31:20 PM | Im not so sure that forgetting has to go hand and hand with forgiving just as long as you dont burden yorself with resentments. I agree with you about anger and fear, so true. I am a dog trainer and I specialize in aggression and I am constantly amazed how many people confuse aggression with anger. Dogs do not even understand anger, and the root of aggression stems from the instinct to survive. So I would rather deal with 100 aggressive dogs than 1 angry person.   | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes.
Posted: 3/15/2009 12:03:39 PM | waking up to life
i found myself trapped
in an ugly existence
always trying to please
him
feeling he was more important
than me
drenched in pain
i bled, internally
when it was time
to move myself away
i heard her words
'forgiving is not forgetting
it is letting go of the hurt'
allowing me to
love again
freely | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes.
Posted: 3/15/2009 8:27:33 PM | waking up to dice
on a dirt street, made of silt,
hopscotch too
a more present past-time,
marbles, yes, and checkers,
and then chess in school,
with George, a Traub,
fudge masters have thumbs,
there was something other,
not the Hula Hoola, or slinkies,
it was a boomerang,
a slug shooter on handlebars,
copper wire slugs,
a chickadee fell in late winter
after a careless aim.
we all ran away,
later in camp a horsefly
with bright tape attached flew
stolidly for minutes | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 3/15/2009 9:22:09 PM | Have faith I say and fear not!Thy life still exists and reality borne from grief pervades many but have faith I say and live and anticipate and cherish the day for it is a chameleon!
TO QUOTE FROM BYRON:
I know not if I could have borne
To see thy beauties fade;
The night that follow'd such a morn
Had worn a deeper shade:
Thy day without a cloud hath pass'd,
And thou wert lovely to the last,
Extinguish'd, not decay'd;
As stars that shoot along the sky
Shine brightest as they fall from high.
fR | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 4/10/2009 10:57:02 AM | There are trespasses
dream invasions
Easily infusing rage
to language
as we are drawn to
morbidity
Tingling sensations
creeping down the spine
Struggling on verbal plateaus
Forgetting what we know
Taking turns in lynching lines
Letting go of the heart
settling to the misery of the mind
We can not live in disbelief
Written in sorrow's graffiti
To live love
to love life
is to live
what we know | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 4/11/2009 10:12:09 PM | Hey blitz...wishing you a Peaceful and Serene holiday weekend! hugs :)
~Hope Is The Thing With Feathers~
"Hope" is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land
And on the strangest sea,
Yet never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
~ Emily****nson ~
Easter blessings to you my friend~ hugzzzz jules :) | |
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Joined: 3/21/2009
Msg: 1517 | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 4/13/2009 2:15:21 AM | The flower safari
la bahia magdelena
a hulk of concrete
and towers obtrudes
above the sand gorse
unfinished
wavering dalliances
of unamed florets
amidst cholla
mammallaria
fish hook cactus
and temporal arrangements
of minute and infinitely
thrown rainbows
spilt on the sandy substrate
like snow lying everywhere
a litany of names
campanilla
yuca
calabaza
amargo
golondrina
cassia
chicaro
the garbancillo
casa de indio
ojos de pajarito
tabardillo
pega pega
salvia
mal de ojo
abronia
chicalote
amapola amarilla
lavanda del mar
fiesta de los
castelillejas
pichel
romerillo
snapdragons
jasmin de la sierra
mangroves green
and daunting
bowers to
jade speckled
yellow tailed fish
a fishing hut hidden in the dunes nearby
fringe the arabesques of stems
flashing effect being in flower
it as though the rust bucket
truck is on a safari
like the flour meadows
in first bloom
of spring
you move the air
that pleases me
areoles
fleshy smooth types
erect
bed of straw
northern smooth flesh
moon fish | |
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Joined: 3/21/2009
Msg: 1521 | |
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Joined: 3/21/2009
Msg: 1522 | |
| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 4/13/2009 8:36:21 AM | Sun rise to sun set, what will today hold
our house is full of bustling energy,
laughter has replaced silence,sorrow
today we live, laugh, play.
If a mother is the heart of her home
and if its true that she and her emotions
set the stage for her family,
Then our stage is beautifully set
Our hearts are healing
we are going into today
holding on to the promise made to us.
God has seen us struggle and he has said its over.
(Should I be surprised that the sun just came blazing through the window, amazing!) | |
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| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 4/14/2009 10:48:47 AM | wow pickles so nice to see you drop by, very nice poem
I loved this Trulio I could almost smell the floral scent and the poem moved like flowers being blown about in a gentle breeze. Ho do you do that? Wonderful, thank you.
I loved this poem of renewed hope ad, it really mede me feel good like a new sunrise recharges a heart so long in darkness, also loved your daughters poem, you rock.
Thanx all so much   | |
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Joined: 3/21/2009
Msg: 1524 | |
| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 4/16/2009 2:59:20 AM | Ever wondered what it would be like to actually experience life like the writing on the walls talk about?
Sing as though no one can hear you...
Dance as though no one is watching...
Love as though you have never been hurt...
It is so possible to be free from limits that we place on our selves, when we do we feel more and see more than than before and it is such a strong force that it sweeps you up and carries you, effortlessly, into your future.
My Challenge to you is....pause today and stand in the sun, close your eyes and Thank God for the air in your lungs and smile that will creep across your face. | |
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Joined: 3/21/2009
Msg: 1525 | |
| The Sacred Act of Story Tellling Though Womens Eyes. For Women Writers
Posted: 4/16/2009 6:15:29 PM | The hardest part to live this life is to live when you are alive.
I lived and felt more in 24 hours than i have in 12 years.
Drop guards and live for the moment, the moment is all we have.
We are not promised tomorrow, we have now.
Find your cant live without self, find love.
It is what it is, simple, honest, unencumbered,scary intoxicating.
fUNTASTIC | |
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