Posted by: Xhyra Graf | 14 July 2006

Random Thoughts

Funny how the more you try to control things the more they seem to be out of control.  It’s the thing about the flow experience…You no longer need to control because everything is working the way it should be.  But…it takes a fair amount of order, control, to get to that point – ritual.  How do you know which type of control to cultivate? 

The paradoxical thing about letting go, letting things run, so that you can then go about smoothly reinserting yourself into the properly running machine…until the next time you begin to believe that you know enough to actually run the machine, pushing it too far for your own purposes.  Then cogs klunk…bearings grind against each other and your head gasket blows.

When do we learn?

It has been a western idea that there is a certain eastern complacency, but are they complacent or are they learned?  Their balance upset now by western thinking while unspeakable things infiltrate their culture. Are they right to have considered us a contaminant? It’s how I feel sometimes, contaminated.  I remember when things worked smoothly, I didn’t need to try to understand or create…I just did.  And it really seems that what I have been trying to understand is the misunderstanding.

This whole exercise seems to be one of unbecoming…the shedding of what I’ve become since I first began to distrust my internal compass. It’s a battle, constant, of reaffirming my existence, of my right to exist in balance with what is.  It’s so difficult unlearning what erased my understanding, especially since it’s so prevalent, since I’m supposed to believe that understanding is not what I had then.  But if not then, when?  Definitely not now.

What will I have accomplished after I cut little pieces off and place them on the floor one by one in a line; to then attempt to put them back together…without taking into acount the width of the cutting instrument?  It can never be put back together again…what is the formula for an adaptive epoxy that takes on the properties of missing information?  Won’t it always be something new, different?

En fin, Ce n'est pas le meme chose.

En fin, ce n’est pas le meme chose.  Impossible, intangible…



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