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#Post#: 37382--------------------------------------------------
Kathryn
By: Kathryn Date: February 23, 2019, 10:17 am
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To me, From Me, Love Me
We never parted
Because we never met.
We never arrived in each other’s arms,
Because we never left each other’s arms.
Mysterious love between us,
Between we who are one.
I remember to rejoice today
For my genius,
Which is not mine, but yours.
I remember to be grateful today for myself.
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
#Post#: 37386--------------------------------------------------
Re: Kathryn
By: Jed McKenna Date: February 24, 2019, 11:33 pm
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Thank you for you touching expression.
Love ya, Jed
#Post#: 37397--------------------------------------------------
Re: Kathryn
By: Kathryn Date: February 26, 2019, 8:57 pm
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You’re welcome.
A long time ago (i.e. never) you told me to drop poetry...
Diamonds & Rust and all that....
I get it now. This past Saturday (aka “never”) I realized that I
have been hiding from myself, and then that poem materialized. I
felt ‘clever,’ both from hiding so well and from the discovery
of myself as both the “hider” and “the seeker.”
Tonight, I also see that my lived experience is like the
(nested) Russian Dolls — hidings within hidings within hidings,
the stuff the curtain in Wizard of Oz is made of, aka “lies.”
How does one untie the proverbial Gordian Knot? Little by little
by little? In one slice of the sword? Or does it matter—yin, or
yang?
Unweaving, yet weaving at the same time, this appears to be the
case with me. Perhaps I’m weaving my burial cloth? I perceive
that I ‘need’ one. I also perceive that the animals soon will
tear it to shreds. I’m ok with that, cuz I’ll be gone. Burial
cloths—might they be the stuff of the ‘near’ dead? A needed
cloak, to soften the blow?
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
#Post#: 37409--------------------------------------------------
Re: Kathryn
By: Jed McKenna Date: March 2, 2019, 12:52 am
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Upon loss of a body, there is a little shock in the spirit
domain. The more the body holds on the more the shock. When you
(appear) to die you will be wise to have let go of as much as
you possibly can, and a little more. You're not taking it with
you so why cling. Pick one thing you could release, let go of,
forgive... right now and do it.
Love ya, Jed.
#Post#: 37426--------------------------------------------------
Kathryn
By: Kathryn Date: March 4, 2019, 7:53 pm
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I let go of, and forgive myself for, not knowing everything and
not being able to solve everything, like the Gordian knot, or
What is the meaning of life? or Who am I? or, more specifically,
What is the point? A curiosity arose, which is: How are truth
and (real) love related? Are they two sides of the same coin?
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
#Post#: 37427--------------------------------------------------
Re: Kathryn
By: Jed McKenna Date: March 4, 2019, 11:08 pm
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Truth is love.... nothing more to say on it really.
Love ya, Jed.
#Post#: 37437--------------------------------------------------
Re: Kathryn
By: Kathryn Date: March 5, 2019, 4:55 am
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Thank you. I suspected as much.
Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
#Post#: 37447--------------------------------------------------
Re: Kathryn
By: Kathryn Date: March 6, 2019, 5:33 pm
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In honor of my favorite holiday:
“Redeem the time, redeem the dream”
And
“Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still”
>>Lifted from “Ash Wednesday”
by T S Eliot
Interesting dream-thought, that the dream can be redeemed.
I’d like to think so.
Meaningful imperative: Care, but don’t care. But, more
importantly, sit still.
Today I cared about my take-out fish dinner, but I didn’t care,
cuz I gave it away, but I did care, because I prayed for the
homeless man to please not be there—prayer of the senses and the
hope of satiety—but, then, I didn’t care, after all, as
everything is mine, and everything is yours.
Sitting still, a little harder to do. I see now: Sitting
still=redeeming the time.
#Post#: 37454--------------------------------------------------
Re: Kathryn
By: Jed McKenna Date: March 7, 2019, 1:48 am
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Please clarify, the dream can be redeemed.
Love ya, Jed.
#Post#: 37456--------------------------------------------------
Kathryn
By: Kathryn Date: March 7, 2019, 2:38 am
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“The dream can be redeemed,” is a thought (stolen from T S
Eliot’s poem) that gives me hope, when perhaps there is no real
hope, that my time here can have some kind of value, or meaning.
In the same poem, T S Eliot says right off the bat that “I do
not hope,” and “I cannot hope,” yet he “constructs” something to
rejoice about, namely “that things are as they are.”
You may ask why I care what T S Eliot says. I am drawn to this
mysterious poem, just as I am drawn to here, like a moth to a
flame, knowing such attraction will lead to my demise, and, if
it does, I have used the dream to redeem, or kill, the dream.
So, in conclusion, “the dream can be redeemed,” means that the
dream can be used to kill the dream, and that I might awaken
within the dream. Not sure if I can awaken from the dream,
unless I die. Not really sure of anything, to tell you the
truth.
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