Oh, I love this! I think we both read the same comment conversation on Ted's recent post, and it caught us both (I've been playing with my own response to it). Thank you for writing this. I don't think it's entirely that we're losing touch with soul but that we're losing touch with the fundamental sense of being alive in the first place. What's the point of this adventure we call "life" if we aren't really alive for it? I could spend hours, if not days or weeks, hammering out thoughts and "answers" to that question...
Nancy, thank you, but eh... now I’m curious about the comment conversation on the Ted post. Did not read that, but I will look for it and see....and keep hammering out those thoughts!
Oh my! How interesting that your post so immediately reminded me of it, then. There was a whole conversation on his latest open thread about whether music is really music if it isn't live. I'm not sure if there's really a single answer to that, but it certainly is interesting to ponder. My response to the question (not an "answer," by any means) goes out tomorrow. :)
"It was the most intense conversation I’d ever had, and still nothing comes even close. No amount of talk can do that." Great moment. And: "Writing is my attempt at pulling this into the light. Wide and slow. You could call it symphonic writing. My way to breathe life into a dying tradition. It still is not too late to revive the skill. Because this is a technique. Very different from mechanical or digital." I like that, but I disagree that writing is a dying tradition - you yourself are proving that, Bertus...! ;)
This is amazing, Bertus! ♥️♥️♥️ I remember reading in an old text book once that the ancient Celts used mead, dance, and participation in their rituals and celebrations. It always made me think that they knew something about connecting with the primal pulse of life itself. Something that was since forgotten. I believe, though, that this knowing is returning. I'm seeing signs of its appearance all over, especially in your words. 🤗
Yes Jenna, and the crazy thing is I can no longer unsee the signs. Despite the turmoil, and the loud message of decline, danger and loss. The word ‘remember’ played a big role for me. I stumbled upon it constantly for a long time. Like this waking up in the middle of the night and asking yes, but what? What is it about that word? And I knew it wasn’t about looking back, or nostalgic reminiscing it was an active thing, a doing. Slowly, very slowly, I sort of got it. It was about giving ‘this’ arms and legs, limbs, means, giving the nearly forgotten a face and a mouth to speak. More than one. Many limbs, many bodies, different voices. Yes, but how, I kept asking.
And it was right here, so very close all the time. Write, damn it, write! And I made excuses. Tried halfheartedly. Practiced forever. Like Jonah, why me? I’m not fit for his job. Let someone else remember, someone more qualified.
After several severe kicks in the butt I have started to use my voice. And still fear and courage fight for the drivers seat. Am I good enough? Is my little story really telling it?
Then the word remember reminds me, it is not just about you, remember? So, yes now I show up, this is it. Nothing to loose anymore.....
Wow, Bertus, this is beautiful. I, too, have felt the call of "remember". I'm still trying to figure it out. There is something about remembrance being the archetypal spiritual pattern. We remember things into being. We remember connections and belongings and wholeness. I'm so grateful that you took up the pen and remember your stories!
Love this. You are / have lived my dream.
We are conjurers..... yes!
Yes Gary, welcome, let’s combine forces!
Oh, I love this! I think we both read the same comment conversation on Ted's recent post, and it caught us both (I've been playing with my own response to it). Thank you for writing this. I don't think it's entirely that we're losing touch with soul but that we're losing touch with the fundamental sense of being alive in the first place. What's the point of this adventure we call "life" if we aren't really alive for it? I could spend hours, if not days or weeks, hammering out thoughts and "answers" to that question...
Nancy, thank you, but eh... now I’m curious about the comment conversation on the Ted post. Did not read that, but I will look for it and see....and keep hammering out those thoughts!
Oh my! How interesting that your post so immediately reminded me of it, then. There was a whole conversation on his latest open thread about whether music is really music if it isn't live. I'm not sure if there's really a single answer to that, but it certainly is interesting to ponder. My response to the question (not an "answer," by any means) goes out tomorrow. :)
"It was the most intense conversation I’d ever had, and still nothing comes even close. No amount of talk can do that." Great moment. And: "Writing is my attempt at pulling this into the light. Wide and slow. You could call it symphonic writing. My way to breathe life into a dying tradition. It still is not too late to revive the skill. Because this is a technique. Very different from mechanical or digital." I like that, but I disagree that writing is a dying tradition - you yourself are proving that, Bertus...! ;)
This is amazing, Bertus! ♥️♥️♥️ I remember reading in an old text book once that the ancient Celts used mead, dance, and participation in their rituals and celebrations. It always made me think that they knew something about connecting with the primal pulse of life itself. Something that was since forgotten. I believe, though, that this knowing is returning. I'm seeing signs of its appearance all over, especially in your words. 🤗
Yes Jenna, and the crazy thing is I can no longer unsee the signs. Despite the turmoil, and the loud message of decline, danger and loss. The word ‘remember’ played a big role for me. I stumbled upon it constantly for a long time. Like this waking up in the middle of the night and asking yes, but what? What is it about that word? And I knew it wasn’t about looking back, or nostalgic reminiscing it was an active thing, a doing. Slowly, very slowly, I sort of got it. It was about giving ‘this’ arms and legs, limbs, means, giving the nearly forgotten a face and a mouth to speak. More than one. Many limbs, many bodies, different voices. Yes, but how, I kept asking.
And it was right here, so very close all the time. Write, damn it, write! And I made excuses. Tried halfheartedly. Practiced forever. Like Jonah, why me? I’m not fit for his job. Let someone else remember, someone more qualified.
After several severe kicks in the butt I have started to use my voice. And still fear and courage fight for the drivers seat. Am I good enough? Is my little story really telling it?
Then the word remember reminds me, it is not just about you, remember? So, yes now I show up, this is it. Nothing to loose anymore.....
Wow, Bertus, this is beautiful. I, too, have felt the call of "remember". I'm still trying to figure it out. There is something about remembrance being the archetypal spiritual pattern. We remember things into being. We remember connections and belongings and wholeness. I'm so grateful that you took up the pen and remember your stories!