the ugly earring

ug‧ly [uhg-lee] offensive to the sense of beauty; displeasing in appearance

Month: December, 2010

to love is good, too

To love is good, too: love being difficult. For one human being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation. For this reason young people, who are beginners in everything, cannot yet know love: they have to learn it. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered close about their lonely, timid, upward-beating heart, they must learn to love. But learning-time is always a long, secluded time, and so loving, for a long while ahead and far on into life, is–solitude, intensified and deepened loneliness for him who loves. Love is at first not anything that means merging, giving over, and uniting with another (for what would a union be of something unclarified and unfinished, still subordinate–?), it is a high inducement to the individual to ripen, to become something in himself for another’s sake, it is a great exacting claim upon him, something that chooses him out and calls him to vast things.

~ rainer maria rilke

(photo: Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY by Elliott Erwitt, 1988)

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the dharma

“Down on the lake rosy reflections of celestial vapor appeared, and I said, ‘God, I love you’ and looked to the sky and really meant it. ‘I have fallen in love with you, God. Take care of us all, one way or the other.’ To the children and the innocent it’s all the same.”

Jack Kerouac, The Dharma Bums

a cure for me?

“Do you know a cure for me?”
“Why yes,” he said, “I know a cure for everything. Salt water.”
“Salt water?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he said, “in one way or the other. Sweat, or tears, or the sea.”

~Isak Dinesen

(photo from weird friends)

surviving the common cold

The mother’s battle for her child with sickness, with poverty, with war, with all the forces of exploitation and callousness that cheapen human life needs to become a common human battle, waged in love and in the passion for survival.
~Adrienne Rich

(what heavy thoughts come with a fever.)
(and the perfect song for such thoughts:  Gymnopedie No. 3
(painting by igor melnikov)

today’s temp: 81 degrees

The closest thing to winter.

(jasmin winter: here)
(and this too: listen, snow is falling)

was not the words, but deeds

said the husband to the wife:

“So all this time, we were doing it wrong?”
“Yeah…”

(from yoko: here)

a family tree

I was 10, my stepfather was driving me home from a late
soccer game and it came over the radio. He had to pull over and cry.
~Chris

(from: where we were…)

70% water

lately, lover and i have been learning about water. particularly what’s lurking in the drinking water.

and some thoughts from the red-hatted jacques:

  • Water and air, the two essential fluids on which all life depends, have become global garbage cans.
  • If we go on the way we have, the fault is our greed and if we are not willing to change, we will disappear from the face of the globe, to be replaced by the insect.
  • What is a scientist after all? It is a curious man looking through a keyhole, the keyhole of nature, trying to know what’s going on.
  • totally unreasonable.

(p.s. that’s quite a watch)

 

three kisses

She sang:

Bubble, bubble, pasta pot,
Boil me some pasta, nice and hot,
I’m hungry and it’s time to sup,
Boil enough pasta to fill me up.

And the pasta pot bubbled and boiled and was suddenly filled with steaming hot
pasta.

Then Strega Nona sang,
Enough, enough, pasta pot,
I have my pasta, nice and hot,
So simmer down my pot of clay,
Until I’m hungry another day

“How wonderful!” said Big Anthony. “That’s a magic pot for sure!”

And Strega Nona called Big Anthony in for supper.

But too bad for Big Anthony, because he didn’t see Strega Nona blow three
kisses to the magic pasta pot.

happy weekend!
photo: here
text: strega nona and the magic pasta pot

 

to pretend we are the same

We die to each other daily.
What we know of other people
Is only our memory of the moments
During which we knew them. And they have changed since then.
To pretend that they and we are the same
Is a useful and convenient social convention
Which must sometimes be broken. We must also remember
That at every meeting we are meeting a stranger.

the cocktail party by t.s. eliot

photo: here
healing properties of quartz: here