how little really matters…these thoughts perpetually blowing through my brain…of passed injustice and fear of future blame…reading what these histories of revenge have wreaked what brave and fighting words the people thought they spoke…and how little any of it really matters now at all, to us here today, so far away…- no, not far away, coz that makes one think it still exists somewhere, and yet it doesn’t, it’s all always gone forever…
i’m daily assailed by so many thoughts – am i doing the right thing with my life? should i be focusing more on something specific? is my artistic production really all amateur? what form should i be exercising? and what did the voortrekkers use for toilet paper?
how strange that some people arouse things in us – feelings, but more than that, a kind of knowledge..of ourselves, of things, attachment, belonging, or abandonment…is everybody else really as nervous as what i am? can it be? the feeling of wanting to run away and be alone but also of wanting to reach out and be held? surely, yes, there must be many like this.
wonder what it is this business of me feeling i don’t deserve real acclaim, i mean so awkward when award winning and embarrassed and blushing when talk of the merit award to staff as if i’d be accused of being a fraud or not deserving enough, and when i do deserve it feel “when they were going to give it to somebody” downplaying it…maybe my true shadow side is not some dark orgiastic beast but a fabulously successful and easy energetic golden creature i’ve denied myself of being deserving of…yea – open the windows and doors man, open all of them , open the house…or better still, burn it down and i’ll see you in the marketplace, with hafiz and rumi and the other ecstatics…yo...
i’m daily assailed by so many thoughts – am i doing the right thing with my life? should i be focusing more on something specific? is my artistic production really all amateur? what form should i be exercising? and what did the voortrekkers use for toilet paper?
how strange that some people arouse things in us – feelings, but more than that, a kind of knowledge..of ourselves, of things, attachment, belonging, or abandonment…is everybody else really as nervous as what i am? can it be? the feeling of wanting to run away and be alone but also of wanting to reach out and be held? surely, yes, there must be many like this.
wonder what it is this business of me feeling i don’t deserve real acclaim, i mean so awkward when award winning and embarrassed and blushing when talk of the merit award to staff as if i’d be accused of being a fraud or not deserving enough, and when i do deserve it feel “when they were going to give it to somebody” downplaying it…maybe my true shadow side is not some dark orgiastic beast but a fabulously successful and easy energetic golden creature i’ve denied myself of being deserving of…yea – open the windows and doors man, open all of them , open the house…or better still, burn it down and i’ll see you in the marketplace, with hafiz and rumi and the other ecstatics…yo...