Sunday, May 30, 2010

On a personal note

These songs, these Sunday posts, they mean more then I can convey in my writing, more then I can say about myself and my life as we know it.  The live performances are not always the best musically, or best audio, or visual, but like the one below, there is a transcendent quality to them. You can see it in Leonard Cohen's eyes, his stare into the past, into the eyes, time and place of Suzanne. 

As for me, consider this a continuation of last night's post, a description of who we are,  against all logic, against all odds, without any lucid structure or courtship....irrational, elusive passion traveling along its own uncertain path, propelled by its own seductive consciousness.


Stela James said...

Nice post.
home jobs

Anonymous said...

This is the how and why of it. First of all, we had to quit playing God. It didn't work. Next, we decided that hereafter in this drama of life, God was going to be our Director. He is the Principal; we are His agents. He is the Father, and we are His children. Most good ideas are simple, and this concept was the keystone of the new and triumphant arch through which we passed to freedom.

When we sincerely took such a position, all sorts of remarkable things followed. We had a new Employer. Being all powerful, He provided what we needed, if we kept close to Him and performed His work well. Established on such a footing we became less and less interested in ourselves, our little plans and designs. More and more we became interested in seeing what we could contribute to life.

~ Bill W, p. 62-3.

Anonymous said...

by: Amy Lowell (American lesbian, 1874-1925)

The Lamp of Life

Always we are following a light,
Always the light recedes; with groping hands
We stretch toward this glory, while the lands
We journey through are hidden from our sight
Dim and mysterious, folded deep in night,
We care not, all our utmost need demands
Is but the light, the light! So still it stands
Surely our own if we exert our might.

Fool! Never can'st thou grasp this fleeting gleam,
Its glowing flame would die if it were caught,
Its value is that it doth always seem
But just a little farther on.

But lighted ever onward, we are brought
Upon our way unknowing, in a dream.