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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 679890" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p><em> </em></p><p></p><p></p><p>I am happy.</p><p></p><p>So we are back to Nietzsche's we love life because we love ~ that love came first. A small step then to the belief that love is where we came from and what we are, which is what every religious belief that I know of does say, at the heart of itself.</p><p></p><p>For what was Sisyphus condemned, again? </p><p></p><p><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sisyphus" target="_blank">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sisyphus</a></p><p></p><p>For loving his own life. For tricking the gods; for committing deceit after deceit to trick Death. For chaining Thanatos (Death) with his own chains and preventing mortal death, but not mortal aging. According to one piece I read this morning, it was the god Ares (God of War) who freed Thanatos because there was no end to war without death.</p><p></p><p>So, then I had to know what went on between Nietzsche and Camus.</p><p> </p><p><a href="http://www.camus-society.com/camus-nietzsche.html" target="_blank">http://www.camus-society.com/camus-nietzsche.html</a></p><p></p><p>And found this. We are not the only ones fascinated by the slavery question.</p><p></p><p><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Master%E2%80%93slave_morality" target="_blank">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Master–slave_morality</a> </p><p></p><p>Thank you, Copa!</p><p></p><p>I love the things you tease me into thinking about.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>So, regarding the Sisyphus myth and our conversation relative to what exactly the material is that is washed out of the Augean stables by whatever number of Rivers (and why would there be two rivers). I will look into that next. But in the meantime, I found this imagery:</p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.wired.com/images_blogs/wiredscience/2013/01/dung_beetle_milky_way.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /> </p><p></p><p><a href="http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/chat/2984323/posts" target="_blank">http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/chat/2984323/posts</a></p><p></p><p>Okay. So now, I am blown away.</p><p></p><p>You know how I love that imagery of life forms throughout time gazing into the magic of the stars.</p><p></p><p>So, there is a kind of dung beetle named...The Sisyphus Dung Beetle. There is all kinds of imagery of Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill. And there is all kinds of imagery of dung beetles as Sisyphus. </p><p></p><p>And yet, within that ball of dung the beetle pushes, navigating by the stars, is everything that matters to her.</p><p></p><p>Everything.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>So, you learned it was inappropriate to feel defiance or anger. In other words, you learned it was not safe to honor your own feelings. You began watching their eyes to know which feelings were okay. <em>You would not allow them to enslave you Leafy...but like I did too, you enslaved yourself. You fought back...and forgot what you were fighting for. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Real.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>In giving up internal locus of control, we refuse to feel what we feel. We feel what the abuser finds appropriate. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>That is emotional slavery. It weakens and confuses us, and leaves us vulnerable to the predator because we are not authentically able to trust our own centers or even to know them. Leafy, championing your right to feel the acceptable emotion instead of real rage or real grief or real betrayal, that is where the crime committed against you is. That the the heart, the core, the crux of the issue. Every time you lay claim to the fallacy that there is something different about your ability to process input, the crime committed against you is re-invoked. By you this time, Leafy. One of the few emotions you have been left able to claim to define yourself and to help you define your place in the world is Sad. Is oversensitive. That is where you should rage, Leafy. Right there. There is no such thing as too sensitive. There is how we feel and how we are helped to learn how to come to terms with our feelings, some of them ~ all of them ~ overwhelmingly intense. Over sensitive means: My reality matters more than yours. </em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>That is the lie they told you Leafy, and authenticity and its attending right of self definition is what was stolen from you.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>There is the wonder of sensitivity to color or sound or taste or touch or nuances of thought or music or any of the hundred thousand things that make up a life.</em></p><p></p><p><em>There is no such thing as too sensitive.</em></p><p></p><p><em>That would be like saying "Too alive."</em></p><p></p><p>Maybe that is what they were saying, New Leaf.</p><p></p><p>Stop saying it to yourself. You are free of them, now. Now, the job at hand is learning to accept yourself for the wonder of having been created, at all. </p><p></p><p>Look at those stars, Leafy.</p><p></p><p>How extraordinary it is, to be alive.</p><p></p><p><em>***</em></p><p></p><p><em>So, what do you feel about the sibs encouraging you to skate on thin ice?</em></p><p></p><p><em>You posted about every aspect of that experience Leafy, but not how you felt.</em></p><p></p><p><em>You posted what they felt. But Leafy, they don't matter. They didn't matter then and they matter less than that now because what happened and how you understood it at the time cannot be changed. Nothing can be changed. How we interpret ourselves and our reactions. Who we tell ourselves we are and how we believe we have a right to be. That we can change.</em></p><p></p><p><em>How could you be betrayed by your own sibs, whose obligations as human beings it was to protect you, and then, come somehow to believe that <u>any</u> response you would have would be "too sensitive".</em></p><p></p><p><em>We can live from our own centers Leafy, open and free and without the rattletrap judgment of perfection, which clomps along dragging defeat behind it.</em></p><p></p><p>Every time.</p><p></p><p>We get to make mistakes. We get to be considered terminal f*** ups. We get to drop things and fall apart and not be famous and, as Copa teaches us, we get to say: "Unfortunately, I was ugly."</p><p></p><p>And then, we get to learn from all those things and go on to create our lives, loving every smallest instant simply because we are here, and we get to risk and choose and celebrate that we woke up this morning.</p><p></p><p>Who cares what someone else thinks about that.</p><p></p><p>We are the ones who woke up as ourselves. None of their business. Any more, really, than how they awaken is our business.</p><p></p><p>But we can say hello, along the way.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p><p></p><p></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 679890, member: 17461"] [I] [/I] I am happy. So we are back to Nietzsche's we love life because we love ~ that love came first. A small step then to the belief that love is where we came from and what we are, which is what every religious belief that I know of does say, at the heart of itself. For what was Sisyphus condemned, again? [URL]https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sisyphus[/URL] For loving his own life. For tricking the gods; for committing deceit after deceit to trick Death. For chaining Thanatos (Death) with his own chains and preventing mortal death, but not mortal aging. According to one piece I read this morning, it was the god Ares (God of War) who freed Thanatos because there was no end to war without death. So, then I had to know what went on between Nietzsche and Camus. [URL]http://www.camus-society.com/camus-nietzsche.html[/URL] And found this. We are not the only ones fascinated by the slavery question. [URL]https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Master%E2%80%93slave_morality[/URL] Thank you, Copa! I love the things you tease me into thinking about. *** So, regarding the Sisyphus myth and our conversation relative to what exactly the material is that is washed out of the Augean stables by whatever number of Rivers (and why would there be two rivers). I will look into that next. But in the meantime, I found this imagery: [IMG]http://www.wired.com/images_blogs/wiredscience/2013/01/dung_beetle_milky_way.jpg[/IMG] [URL]http://www.freerepublic.com/focus/chat/2984323/posts[/URL] Okay. So now, I am blown away. You know how I love that imagery of life forms throughout time gazing into the magic of the stars. So, there is a kind of dung beetle named...The Sisyphus Dung Beetle. There is all kinds of imagery of Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill. And there is all kinds of imagery of dung beetles as Sisyphus. And yet, within that ball of dung the beetle pushes, navigating by the stars, is everything that matters to her. Everything. So, you learned it was inappropriate to feel defiance or anger. In other words, you learned it was not safe to honor your own feelings. You began watching their eyes to know which feelings were okay. [I]You would not allow them to enslave you Leafy...but like I did too, you enslaved yourself. You fought back...and forgot what you were fighting for. Real. In giving up internal locus of control, we refuse to feel what we feel. We feel what the abuser finds appropriate. That is emotional slavery. It weakens and confuses us, and leaves us vulnerable to the predator because we are not authentically able to trust our own centers or even to know them. Leafy, championing your right to feel the acceptable emotion instead of real rage or real grief or real betrayal, that is where the crime committed against you is. That the the heart, the core, the crux of the issue. Every time you lay claim to the fallacy that there is something different about your ability to process input, the crime committed against you is re-invoked. By you this time, Leafy. One of the few emotions you have been left able to claim to define yourself and to help you define your place in the world is Sad. Is oversensitive. That is where you should rage, Leafy. Right there. There is no such thing as too sensitive. There is how we feel and how we are helped to learn how to come to terms with our feelings, some of them ~ all of them ~ overwhelmingly intense. Over sensitive means: My reality matters more than yours. That is the lie they told you Leafy, and authenticity and its attending right of self definition is what was stolen from you. There is the wonder of sensitivity to color or sound or taste or touch or nuances of thought or music or any of the hundred thousand things that make up a life.[/I] [I]There is no such thing as too sensitive.[/I] [I]That would be like saying "Too alive."[/I] Maybe that is what they were saying, New Leaf. Stop saying it to yourself. You are free of them, now. Now, the job at hand is learning to accept yourself for the wonder of having been created, at all. Look at those stars, Leafy. How extraordinary it is, to be alive. [I]***[/I] [I]So, what do you feel about the sibs encouraging you to skate on thin ice?[/I] [I]You posted about every aspect of that experience Leafy, but not how you felt.[/I] [I]You posted what they felt. But Leafy, they don't matter. They didn't matter then and they matter less than that now because what happened and how you understood it at the time cannot be changed. Nothing can be changed. How we interpret ourselves and our reactions. Who we tell ourselves we are and how we believe we have a right to be. That we can change.[/I] [I]How could you be betrayed by your own sibs, whose obligations as human beings it was to protect you, and then, come somehow to believe that [U]any[/U] response you would have would be "too sensitive".[/I] [I]We can live from our own centers Leafy, open and free and without the rattletrap judgment of perfection, which clomps along dragging defeat behind it.[/I] Every time. We get to make mistakes. We get to be considered terminal f*** ups. We get to drop things and fall apart and not be famous and, as Copa teaches us, we get to say: "Unfortunately, I was ugly." And then, we get to learn from all those things and go on to create our lives, loving every smallest instant simply because we are here, and we get to risk and choose and celebrate that we woke up this morning. Who cares what someone else thinks about that. We are the ones who woke up as ourselves. None of their business. Any more, really, than how they awaken is our business. But we can say hello, along the way. Cedar [I][/I] [/QUOTE]
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