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Work and Germany; Benedictines and Buddhists: Attitude
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<blockquote data-quote="Scent of Cedar *" data-source="post: 673220" data-attributes="member: 17461"><p>"<em>...And all of the rest was what came with it to serve love IN ALL ITS FACETS."</em></p><p></p><p>I love this, Copa.</p><p></p><p>Remember, in Leonard Cohen's Halleluiah? </p><p><em></em></p><p><em>"Love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken halleluiah."</em></p><p></p><p>I've been thinking about that alot, lately. Especially where being Germany</p><p>in our thinking about FOO is concerned.</p><p></p><p>Love in all its facets.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>To me lately, it seems that I have been living from love to my specs. Not accepting; not speaking out immediately at a slight, forgiving instead though</p><p></p><p><em>To lose even one felicity is to have been robbed of more than we have a right to spare</em></p><p></p><p><em>Charles Williams</em></p><p></p><p>I have been thinking and thinking about this aspect of things. The result is that when I shout "F You, Mom" now? There is a joy in it, where before, there was only defiance. That is because I am more present now, I think.</p><p></p><p>Roar F you Mom Woot! Woot!</p><p></p><p>And I lay back in the blue water like IZ, hugely fat.</p><p></p><p><em>Love in all its facets.</em></p><p></p><p></p><p><em></em></p><p><em></em></p><p>I don't remember who we were reading, but the writer was talking about respect, and presence, and trust. Trust that your response will be appropriate, <em>but never perfect</em>. We can see it this way. We could see that needing to be perfect is an artifact of abuse, is an artifact of external (versus internal) locus of control.</p><p></p><p>So, when we think about it like that we are more present, just a little more present. Which is really scary. To be present, to risk real over role is to be vulnerable. So, then we get hurt and ~ huh. We survive. We are so surprised. Life goes right merrily along. We are so surprised because, in our childhoods, life did not proceed, were we ever once to make the mistake of vulnerability.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>That is why it is courageous, and very brave of us, to risk it, now. We don't have to, you see. We know just how to slide through all of it without once coming real; without once being present, or warm.</p><p></p><p>It is very lonely, in perfection land.</p><p></p><p><em>In a far land of witches and ogres</em></p><p><em>in a time of Princesses on strings</em></p><p><em>There was come</em></p><p><em>to those trapped on that Island</em></p><p></p><p><em>A staunch ally</em></p><p><em>from the Valley of Horses and Kings</em></p><p></p><p><em>On the Wind they did ride</em></p><p><em>the Princesses and the ally....</em></p><p><em>Through Fire and through Smoke</em></p><p><em>to the Land, far and fair</em></p><p></p><p><em>On white horses with reigns of</em></p><p><em>black satin</em></p><p><em>Seeded pearl ribbands</em></p><p><em>in their Sun scented hair</em></p><p></p><p><em>Draped in veils sewn of silk and </em></p><p><em>white cotton</em></p><p><em>Beneath which fly the colors of each Lady</em></p><p><em>fair</em></p><p><em>So they traveled, the ally and the Ladies</em></p><p><em>toward the Dawning</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Through black, blasted lands wherein each Lady's past</em></p><p><em>had its lair</em></p><p></p><p>I will find the rest of that poem.</p><p></p><p>It is about group therapy, Leafy.</p><p></p><p>Cedar</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Scent of Cedar *, post: 673220, member: 17461"] "[I]...And all of the rest was what came with it to serve love IN ALL ITS FACETS."[/I] I love this, Copa. Remember, in Leonard Cohen's Halleluiah? [I] "Love is not a victory march. It's a cold and it's a broken halleluiah."[/I] I've been thinking about that alot, lately. Especially where being Germany in our thinking about FOO is concerned. Love in all its facets. To me lately, it seems that I have been living from love to my specs. Not accepting; not speaking out immediately at a slight, forgiving instead though [I]To lose even one felicity is to have been robbed of more than we have a right to spare[/I] [I]Charles Williams[/I] I have been thinking and thinking about this aspect of things. The result is that when I shout "F You, Mom" now? There is a joy in it, where before, there was only defiance. That is because I am more present now, I think. Roar F you Mom Woot! Woot! And I lay back in the blue water like IZ, hugely fat. [I]Love in all its facets.[/I] [I] [/I] I don't remember who we were reading, but the writer was talking about respect, and presence, and trust. Trust that your response will be appropriate, [I]but never perfect[/I]. We can see it this way. We could see that needing to be perfect is an artifact of abuse, is an artifact of external (versus internal) locus of control. So, when we think about it like that we are more present, just a little more present. Which is really scary. To be present, to risk real over role is to be vulnerable. So, then we get hurt and ~ huh. We survive. We are so surprised. Life goes right merrily along. We are so surprised because, in our childhoods, life did not proceed, were we ever once to make the mistake of vulnerability. *** That is why it is courageous, and very brave of us, to risk it, now. We don't have to, you see. We know just how to slide through all of it without once coming real; without once being present, or warm. It is very lonely, in perfection land. [I]In a far land of witches and ogres in a time of Princesses on strings There was come to those trapped on that Island[/I] [I]A staunch ally from the Valley of Horses and Kings[/I] [I]On the Wind they did ride the Princesses and the ally.... Through Fire and through Smoke to the Land, far and fair[/I] [I]On white horses with reigns of black satin Seeded pearl ribbands in their Sun scented hair[/I] [I]Draped in veils sewn of silk and white cotton Beneath which fly the colors of each Lady fair So they traveled, the ally and the Ladies toward the Dawning Through black, blasted lands wherein each Lady's past had its lair[/I] I will find the rest of that poem. It is about group therapy, Leafy. Cedar [/QUOTE]
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