Re: organism and identity / for maria luisa
- --- In firstname.lastname@example.org, "Nina"
> > > > > Allow me to point out, that I have never revealed to youit,
> > > > > my personal experiences with consciousness, except
> > > > > indirectly.
> > > >
> > > > so rather than play ring around the mulberry bush why don't
> > > > you simply speak openly of what it is ?
> > >
> > > Well, considering that all we can do is speak indirectly of
> > > how would I reply?sterility
> > SG: perhaps start by directly sharing what it was for
> > you ...... rather than speaking of the by-products
> > which are being filtered as a process of thinking ......
> SG, what would you have me do? There is no dream-sharing
> machine available, as was available to Claire in
> "Until the End of the World". You will have to be
> satisfied with my particular language of expression,
> even if the apparent logic is distasteful to you.
> What a farce it would be for me to express it in any
> other way than what comes naturally. If you were a close
> friend, someone I trusted deeply, I might share more
> of the herstory of specifics, or even be available to
> lead the way into the experience. However, "Nina" (and
> probably many others on these lists) is more private than
> to broadcast such things, and also sees them as "beside
> the point". If you are interested and looking, you can
> find it in what I write.
> > N: > There are all manner of spontaneous expressions of being
> > > filled with "The Holy Spirit". As regards my own expression
> > > of this highly intimate experience, either you see it in
> > > what I share, or you don't. The same could be said of anyone's
> > > contributions on this list.
> > >
> > > Ring around the mulberry bush is what we do here, on these
> > > lists.
> > SG: that could be ended ...... it is a choice.........
> You are correct, I could determine to stop posting on these lists.
> > > You may call my writing 'cold', others might call it 'direct',
> > > yet others might find it to be different, entirely.
> > > You say my writing is based in 'logic'; however, where is my
> > > "logic" coming from, except from "experience"?
> > SG: try bringing it from the Heart rather than the
> > of intellect and intellectual process .........process
> You are mistaken if you think that my intellect/intellectual
> is not arising from the heart. How do you think it is, that mythose
> intellect is inspired?
> The desert southwest in the USA looks sterile and lifeless to
> who are used to life being abundantly visible and green. Vitalityhas
> many expressions.Yes, and all the seemingly conflicting explanations can come
together to be understood as one facet of a whole. Instead of "no,
not like this, like this" it could be said, "yes, and also this if
looked at from a different angle".
> to each her own,
- --- In email@example.com, "Nina" <murrkis@y...> wrote:
> > > When the inspiration fails, it is no worse thanNina, you just made my day
> > > a sandcastle being washed away by the beach tide.
> > > Tomorrow, I build another sandcastle.
> > >
> > > The thing is, I do know that at any time, I could
> > > let go of the sandcastle building... but why?
> > > Maybe you know why and would share the why...
> > SG: one perhaps builds sandcastles until there is no longer
> > an attachment to building and creating a structured form ......
> > Inspirations may be wrapped up in sandcastles .....
> > perhaps at that point one simply creates them out of the joy of
> > the moment..... not expecting them to last but simply for the
> > beauty and joy of spontaneous art and motion which flows from
> > the Bliss of Being here now in this place in this moment .......
> > it needs not carry behind it some representation or hidden
> > meaning it simply is as it is Beautiful and sacred within it's own
> > right.......
> > then as in all things (this creation of the moment) simply falls
> > away so that another image may take its place
> > First one goes beyond the transient unfolding play before it is
> > fully understood and appreciated for what it is ....... then one
> > steps back into the lila and play simply Enjoying that lila as an
> > expression of Infinite Love in motion........
> > Formless or Form it is the same Essense
> > minus the distinguishing factors .....
> > SG: hahahahaha perhaps so .... everything proceeds from
> > Source and returns to Source in some manner......
> > Infinite Love
> 1. There are pictures of this sandcastle building: faded square
> photographs with radiused corners, the blues and greens and sand
> colors of photographs from that time, the reds always slightly
> pungent, as if the pigment were wired and erratic, unsure of its
> place in the film. There we are, squatting in the sand: my blond-
> haired mother, sitting aside, arm around the barrel-chest of the
> small grey dog; my father and a very small I sitting together,
> scraping sand into forms. What the photograph barely hints at is the
> joy of building that sandcastle, part enjoyment of the sand and
> water, part thrill and satisfaction of building it with my father.
> What the photograph doesn't contain is what came later. After
> building it, I felt so much happiness and pride; we played in the
> water, and I kept looking back to see that sandcastle sitting before
> the waves. Then the two boys came, stepping into the sandcastle,
> crushing it. I cried salt tears to the sea, inconsolable, and unable
> to explain or even understand that the greatest loss was not the
> sandcastle, but what the sandcastle represented.
> 2. We like to go early to the beach, before the beach patrol comes on
> line, and let our dogs run off leash. One morning, on the way back,
> we are walking close to the dunes, past a sandcastle left above the
> tide line. One of the dogs stalks the sandcastle, circling it,
> sniffing it carefully, as if the castle might move. She notes the
> hollow center of the castle, and daintily scratches it with one paw,
> once, twice. Moving within the hollow, she begins to dig, throwing
> large arcs of sand beneath and behind her, very efficiently deepening
> the hollow. Sufficiently inspired, she leaps from the castle, and
> runs circles on the beach. She is amazing, lean muscle and arching
> back, her earth-pounding feet carrying her so close to us on her
> returns that her breath is heard and wake is felt.
> 3. After the walk, I remain on the beach after the others return
> home. The sun is coming up, pink and orange, and the sky is humid and
> a thick blue-grey. The moon is still out, and a few stars, but are
> gradually fading in a sky that is approaching their brilliance. I
> stand within the laps of the waves, and look out to the rocking
> shrimp boats, and the long, thin horizon beyond. With each receding
> wave, the water draws sand from beneath the edges of my feet.
> Eventually, I am balancing on two pyramids beneath my arches. I find
> that if I am not perfectly balanced through the soles of my feet as
> these pyramids form, that eventually I must cling to the tops of the
> pyramids with the muscles of my legs, lest my feet slide from the
> pyramids. I stand for a long while like this, trying on new pyramids,
> learning as a matter of course what it is to be perfectly balanced
> within my soles, and how transparent and effortless that feels,
> watching the night suns recede as I am warmed by the heat advancing
> in the eastern sky. At some point, the shrimp boats disappear, and I
> take that as my cue to leave.
> Thanks for your letter, SG.