To Live & Learn

One of the best Sylvia Plath comments I had read.

taste-woman-art-painting-water

I want to taste and glory in each day,
and never be afraid to experience pain;
and never shut myself up
in a numb core of non-feeling,
or stop questioning and criticizing life
and take the easy way out.
To learn and think:
to think and live;
to live and learn:
this always, with new insight,
new understanding,
and new love.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath


Credits: Quote Source: Petrichour. Painting: Ufukorada

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the thing about mental illness

Sirena, feels very close.

Sirena Tales

it’s a riptide

on a moonless night

stealthy and inexorable

pulling

out to a pounding

sea

you grab

for his hand

but he “will drag you under, too”

it’s without logic

the ghastly ripples

unpredictable

across generations of pain

you dive in

desperate

to save

try again

it’s no good

you can’t reach

the rope’s too short and the sea too rough

if only they would get help

but they don’t, won’t

and so it’s intractable

this persistent murmur, glacial masquerade, madness

a sibling to genius, sure

yet right here, right now?

it’s a scourge–

now hush!

we won’t speak of it

it’s pretending

that the rip’s not there

and maybe that’s the worst

Photo: Essennelle Studios

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It, did. It had me.

Interesting combination of picture and quote. Tell us more David

Christine-Comyn

“From the beginning I had a sense of destiny, as though my life was assigned to me by fate and had to be fulfilled. This gave me an inner security, and though I could never prove it to myself, it proved itself to me. did not have this certainty, it had me.”

C. G. Jung, from Memories, Dreams, Reflections


Notes:

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Vacation

Used to do that, fly.

Dr Bill Wooten

We just returned from our summer vacation after visiting our son and his family. What a wonderful time that passed all too quickly. I found this poem that I wanted to share this morning. The picture is of our grandson Jack, who will be 7 in October. He loves life and it shows in all that he does.

“I love the hour before takeoff,
that stretch of no time, no home
but the gray vinyl seats linked like
unfolding paper dolls. Soon we shall
be summoned to the gate, soon enough
there’ll be the clumsy procedure of row numbers
and perforated stubs—but for now
I can look at these ragtag nuclear families
with their cooing and bickering
or the heeled bachelorette trying
to ignore a baby’s wail and the baby’s
exhausted mother waiting to be called up early
while the athlete, one monstrous hand
asleep on his duffel bag, listens,

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