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Infectious Madness by Harriet Washington
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 669976" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>Good Morning, Everybody</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p>Copa, somewhere, I posted that we had decided to wait until next Saturday. We had something go wrong electrically. (After the issue that required a plumber for what was going wrong, plumbing-wise.) We are waiting for the electrician to call, and hoping he can come, today. If he does, we will leave, tomorrow. We have electric heat, and cannot leave with the problem unresolved. It has been the craziest summer!</p><p></p><p>The part of us that witnesses, that quiet, centered place at the heart of us, that part that is there, if we listen for it. This, so they say, is the part of us that is eternal. This is the part of us that knows we are angry, or filled with joy, or that we snapped at someone because we were tired and doesn't care. It is under the reaction. It is under the motivation. Maybe, something like Jung's underconscience. This is what we "see" in the eyes of living things. It is the difference between the energy we feel from a living plant than from a plastic one.</p><p></p><p>When you see yourself chatting with sales clerks, Copa, that essence aware that you are taking on a role, even as it happens. That is the thing I am talking about. </p><p></p><p>I didn't know you knew you were doing that, Copa.</p><p></p><p>You are amazing, and very brave.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Well, no. To understand that whether we forgive or not, whether we love or not, even whether we live alive in this life or not...the moon is not affected, however much it seems to have been affected by the Wind, or the tides, or gravity.</p><p></p><p>The moon is the moon. As long as we are looking at a reflection, we are getting it wrong.</p><p></p><p>Reflection, emotion; Narcissus, seeing what he sees and believing it real.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yes, and to understand that we have been seeing and saying these words throughout time, the same things, at the heart of it. Christ, Buddha, all great art, every dancer. The broken places: where the light shines through.</p><p></p><p>Have you read Pema Chodron, Leafy?</p><p></p><p>It is her contention that there is nowhere to balance; no place of safety.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Letting it be. Not higher thinking so much as ~ okay. So, in Buddhism, the newbie says: "I am awake!" And the response is: "So you believe."</p><p></p><p>Something the matter with our perceptions...or is it that there is something the matter with our perceptors? We do not see until we do. Then, we cannot not see.</p><p></p><p>Huh.</p><p></p><p>Things keep breaking open. </p><p></p><p>And we realize those things were always there.</p><p></p><p>We are the ones breaking open.</p><p></p><p>Huh.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Yes, I think so too, Leafy. We are hearing out of time, through a language never learned. Who is it, there in the heart of us, that hears and can understand, what the musician knows?</p><p></p><p>I read that, because it is as stringent a science as higher mathematics, music ~ any kind of music, a simple drum beat, even ~ can put us back together, when we are broken open, incorporating what the musician has given. In the rhythms, which are composed as much of silence, as of sound, right?</p><p></p><p>They say this is because the rhythms are taken from the rhythmic, four chambered beat of our own hearts.</p><p></p><p>:O)</p><p></p><p>Is that not terminally cool.</p><p></p><p>That part of us that can hear that music and needs no picture...that is the witness, is the seer.</p><p></p><p>Think of a toddler's response, or an infant's, to music, to the music of the mother's voice, and of the father's voice.</p><p></p><p>A symphony of sound and scent and color and time.</p><p></p><p>That is what it is, to be alive. That is what is different between a living plant and one of plastic.</p><p></p><p>I loved this:</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Thank you, Leafy. This was beautiful. Vivaldi, as well. But this was more beautiful. There is a piece by Sibelias I will try to find for you. Icy, and stringent, and very beautiful.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>When we believed we were losing our daughter, all that was left was laughter. It was the strangest thing, Leafy. After all of it, all that was left, when we thought we were losing her, was that I was so delighted to have known her.</p><p></p><p>Huh.</p><p></p><p>Everything that was not laughter seemed to have been foolish.</p><p></p><p>Our daughter did not die.</p><p></p><p>Reality receded.</p><p></p><p>Huh.</p><p></p><p>So, we are back to the Buddhist newbie: </p><p></p><p>"I am awake!"</p><p></p><p>"So you believe."</p><p></p><p>Huh.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>They were all mad, Leafy. Read about the childhoods of any one of them.</p><p></p><p>Or, were they the sane ones.</p><p></p><p>Looks like we are back in Buddhist territory, again. Or, Christian. Or, myth and legend from time immemorial.</p><p></p><p>Huh.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>I think this is exactly how an ordinary mind at work, works. I've read about communication in the animal kingdom that indicates the same energies are at work there.</p><p></p><p>Think about Jung; about what he believed about the nature of consciousness.</p><p></p><p>Joseph Campbell.</p><p></p><p>Charles Williams; Shakespeare; the woman story teller Scheherazade who created <u>The Arabian Nights.</u> Hansel and Gretel. Copa's Sleeping Beauty imagery. Clarissa Pinkola Estes. The old woman, singing flesh onto the bones.</p><p></p><p>I've read that the world is not only stranger than we believe, but that it is stranger and more wonderful than we <em>can</em> believe.</p><p></p><p>Huh.</p><p></p><p>Buddhist newbie, again.</p><p></p><p>Here is my healing music. I play it all the time, and then, for a time, I do not.</p><p></p><p>[MEDIA=youtube]hOA-2hl1Vbc[/MEDIA]</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 669976, member: 17461"] Good Morning, Everybody :O) Copa, somewhere, I posted that we had decided to wait until next Saturday. We had something go wrong electrically. (After the issue that required a plumber for what was going wrong, plumbing-wise.) We are waiting for the electrician to call, and hoping he can come, today. If he does, we will leave, tomorrow. We have electric heat, and cannot leave with the problem unresolved. It has been the craziest summer! The part of us that witnesses, that quiet, centered place at the heart of us, that part that is there, if we listen for it. This, so they say, is the part of us that is eternal. This is the part of us that knows we are angry, or filled with joy, or that we snapped at someone because we were tired and doesn't care. It is under the reaction. It is under the motivation. Maybe, something like Jung's underconscience. This is what we "see" in the eyes of living things. It is the difference between the energy we feel from a living plant than from a plastic one. When you see yourself chatting with sales clerks, Copa, that essence aware that you are taking on a role, even as it happens. That is the thing I am talking about. I didn't know you knew you were doing that, Copa. You are amazing, and very brave. Well, no. To understand that whether we forgive or not, whether we love or not, even whether we live alive in this life or not...the moon is not affected, however much it seems to have been affected by the Wind, or the tides, or gravity. The moon is the moon. As long as we are looking at a reflection, we are getting it wrong. Reflection, emotion; Narcissus, seeing what he sees and believing it real. Yes, and to understand that we have been seeing and saying these words throughout time, the same things, at the heart of it. Christ, Buddha, all great art, every dancer. The broken places: where the light shines through. Have you read Pema Chodron, Leafy? It is her contention that there is nowhere to balance; no place of safety. Letting it be. Not higher thinking so much as ~ okay. So, in Buddhism, the newbie says: "I am awake!" And the response is: "So you believe." Something the matter with our perceptions...or is it that there is something the matter with our perceptors? We do not see until we do. Then, we cannot not see. Huh. Things keep breaking open. And we realize those things were always there. We are the ones breaking open. Huh. Yes, I think so too, Leafy. We are hearing out of time, through a language never learned. Who is it, there in the heart of us, that hears and can understand, what the musician knows? I read that, because it is as stringent a science as higher mathematics, music ~ any kind of music, a simple drum beat, even ~ can put us back together, when we are broken open, incorporating what the musician has given. In the rhythms, which are composed as much of silence, as of sound, right? They say this is because the rhythms are taken from the rhythmic, four chambered beat of our own hearts. :O) Is that not terminally cool. That part of us that can hear that music and needs no picture...that is the witness, is the seer. Think of a toddler's response, or an infant's, to music, to the music of the mother's voice, and of the father's voice. A symphony of sound and scent and color and time. That is what it is, to be alive. That is what is different between a living plant and one of plastic. I loved this: Thank you, Leafy. This was beautiful. Vivaldi, as well. But this was more beautiful. There is a piece by Sibelias I will try to find for you. Icy, and stringent, and very beautiful. When we believed we were losing our daughter, all that was left was laughter. It was the strangest thing, Leafy. After all of it, all that was left, when we thought we were losing her, was that I was so delighted to have known her. Huh. Everything that was not laughter seemed to have been foolish. Our daughter did not die. Reality receded. Huh. So, we are back to the Buddhist newbie: "I am awake!" "So you believe." Huh. They were all mad, Leafy. Read about the childhoods of any one of them. Or, were they the sane ones. Looks like we are back in Buddhist territory, again. Or, Christian. Or, myth and legend from time immemorial. Huh. I think this is exactly how an ordinary mind at work, works. I've read about communication in the animal kingdom that indicates the same energies are at work there. Think about Jung; about what he believed about the nature of consciousness. Joseph Campbell. Charles Williams; Shakespeare; the woman story teller Scheherazade who created [U]The Arabian Nights.[/U] Hansel and Gretel. Copa's Sleeping Beauty imagery. Clarissa Pinkola Estes. The old woman, singing flesh onto the bones. I've read that the world is not only stranger than we believe, but that it is stranger and more wonderful than we [I]can[/I] believe. Huh. Buddhist newbie, again. Here is my healing music. I play it all the time, and then, for a time, I do not. [MEDIA=youtube]hOA-2hl1Vbc[/MEDIA] Cedar [/QUOTE]
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