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Thread: What is to become of us David?

  1. #1
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    Default What is to become of us David?

    Hi David,

    Of course we know all the clean questions by now, but what about your voice carrying us?

    "And when [my voice was carrying you], that's like what?"
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 08 March 2008 at 09:40 PM.

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    "It's like you were calling us."

    "And when [I was calling you], what kind of calling was that?"

    "It was like a shepherd calling to come back from whence we got lost."

    "And when [the shepherd called to come back from whence you got lost], then what happened?"

    "I turned my head to the light."

    "And then what?"

    "I breathed."

    "And then?"

    "I cried."

    "And?"

    "I came alive."

  3. #3
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    "Chocolate is the answer, and i don't give a damn about the question!"

    "Don't you yell at me like that from a Taurange postcard stand!"

    "I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure you noticed me."

    "Yeah, I bought the card."

    "So, did you bring the chocolate?"

    "Yes, I did."

    "Would you make some for me?".

    "I would, but you wouldn't want it to go to waste, so I'll take it up to Jennifers and make a hot chocolate for everyone who missed out on it, since you didn't want to share it with anyone!"

    "Damn you!"

    "You're welcome!"

    "Other than that, it wasn't easy to get to you, there were six railway crossings in between. Remember when you asked us at our last 'salon' to make a list of "do-wants" and "don't-wants"?"

    "Yeah."

    "It was easy to make up the first, but when I was about to make up the second list, I layed down my pen and reached for Jennifer's pencil box. From all the colours I chose a white one, but the point wouldn't reach the paper. I put it down and tried a second one, but it also refused. So I laid it across the first and took a third. I gave up and laid it across the other two. When I looked at it, I recognised the railway-crossing sign and to me that was like a no-go area, only to enter very carefully.

    So today I tried to avoid the railway-crossings. James had told me that it is possible to walk across the lake to the Marae alongside the railway track. So I walked up there. When I was halfway, a huge black monster with one big shining eye came along. I met two gigling girls and we closed our ears with our fingers. So I walked further along the railway track and then along the beach to the Marae. It wasn't easy, at some point I almost got stuck in the mud, I had to climb a few trees and break a few branches. Eventually I had to take off my shoes and wade through the water, but I got there. It would have been easier just to go on the road, which I did on my way back, after listening to a garage sing-along (I'm gone lay down my burden, down by the river side) and picking some flowers for you. The road has a 'no-exit' sign, but I knew better and walked back across the railway bridge. The girls came back, still gigling and when I reached the other side, another monster passed, with signs 'This way to unload' on it, pointing forward.

    Now, how am I to make sense of that?"
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 02 February 2008 at 10:27 PM.

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    Default Rendez-vous!

    After I bought the postcard, I strolled on to the next shop, and there it was, in big black letters on a dark-red wall:

    "rendez-vous
    [noun] a meeting with somebody; a place arranged for this [from French 'rendez-vous' = present yourselves]."

    I couldn't meet with you at the Marae, David, I was just there to join your family and all the friends that had flown in from all over the world. I didn't want to spoil the picture of you in my memory when you waved and smiled at us from the other side of the church, when we were swinging to the music of Monsieur de Gandt talking to his Jenny through his jazz-instruments. You couldn't bear to sit down for very long, so you stood next to the technician.

    To me, it's not 'you' laying here at Pyes Pa, it's just your body. I talked to your gardener and they put the grass back on. I poured six bottles of water on top of it, so it can grow back.

    There can only be a 'me' if there is a 'you'. I put in a branch with French autumn leaves, it's next to your left foot, so that part of you that relates to me, hold on to that, use the green stone to jump on to my meteor stone and I'll take you back to France. I'll ask Royal Dutch to stop-over in Paris.

    Anything else?

    Corrie
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 08 March 2008 at 09:43 PM.

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    I was sitting under a platane, and I discovered a shell between its branches. France it will be.

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    "What does that hand know?"

    "Which hand?"

    "The one that writes with water on my grave, but couldn't write down 'don't wants'."

    "That hand knows it is writing with a little distance, my bottle didn't toch the ground."

    "What did it write?"

    "Just lines."

    "And what is in-between the lines?"

    "Taking care of you."

    "Thank you."

    "You're welcome."

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    I suddenly woke up from a very deep sleep, since I had managed to find the right posture across two seats. It was like I was frightened by something, because I instantly had my eyes wide open and saw the screen indicate that we were above Hamburg and that the flight to Paris would leave at 18.45 from gate F.

    I turned around and thought of our rendez-vous in Hamburg. John remembered us meeting there for breakfast. I had found a good place to have coffee and he bought you a Danish pastry. He went off on his bike to an appointment and we went shopping. I looked at you from a little distance when you talked to a salesperson and I was amused to see how you managed to get him smiling within a few seconds and then he treated you as if you were the most important client in his whole career.

    We sat down at the harbour among the seagulls and I told you that healing a psychological problem is like brain-surgery. You need to figure out the exact right spot before you can do anything about it.

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    Wink Grovitude

    "What does that space know?"

    "It knows it's right opposite of you. There is no spacetime left for you, but gravity keeps us together. It's six meters below sealevel up here, so that's as close as possible to your being six feet deep down under."

    "And what do you know from that space there?"

    "It's much closer than travelling around the surface, and there are many people attracted to you from around the world, like weak ties."

    "What kind of attraction is that?"

    "Well, let me think ... longing, attraction, gravity ... gratitude ... gravitude ... Grovitude!"

    "You're welcome, it was my pleasure!"

    "Now, put 'Grovitude' in your dictionary!"

    "O.k., I'll replace it for 'groveling'!"
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 12 February 2008 at 09:23 PM.

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    Default Halleluja

    Thank you David, for sending me Jeff Buckley's version of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah on the radio tonight (by body is still on New Zealand time). What happened to the radio I gave you?
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 14 February 2008 at 12:19 PM.

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    Default The Guests

    Here's the adjacent song; it knows that the chorus rocks me asleep.

    The Guests
    One by one, the guests arrive
    The guests are coming through
    The open-hearted many
    The broken-hearted few
    And no one knows where the night is going
    And no one knows why the wine is flowing
    Oh love I need you
    I need you
    I need you
    I need you
    Oh . . . I need you now

    And those who dance, begin to dance
    Those who weep begin
    And "Welcome, welcome" cries a voice
    "Let all my guests come in."

    And no one knows where the night is going ...

    And all go stumbling through that house
    in lonely secrecy
    Saying "Do reveal yourself"
    or "Why has thou forsaken me?"

    And no one knows where the night is going ...

    All at once the torches flare
    The inner door flies open
    One by one they enter there
    In every style of passion

    And no one knows where the night is going ...

    And here they take their sweet repast
    While house and grounds dissolve
    And one by one the guests are cast
    Beyond the garden wall

    And no one knows where the night is going ...

    Those who dance, begin to dance
    Those who weep begin
    Those who earnestly are lost
    Are lost and lost again

    And no one knows where the night is going ...

    One by the guests arrive
    The guests are coming through
    The broken-hearted many
    The open-hearted few

    And no one knows where the night is going ...

    Leonard Cohen

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    Default

    "It's a crispy, easy Sunday morning, let's go for a walk."

    (I parked my car at the Soefi temple (I'm trying to remember to whom I talked about that, was it in Normandy?) and took a short cut along the cycling path to my favourite pancake house in the middle of the dunes. It's always very reassuring that there are so many sandhills between me and the sea. It's like Canada, you can see for miles and not notice any human presence. The sun was still low and cast a long shadow of me on the path. Every now and then some cyclists passed. It's funny to hear bits of their conversations: "You have to be able to communicate in a human way, because one way or another ..." or "That one is very expensive ... " (they tend to discuss purchases). Sometimes a big group came along and I was chased to the shell foothpath. I cleaned my shoes at Auckland Airport (they don't like you to carry mud around the world), so now I'm carrying bits of shells.)

    "What do you know from this space here?"

    "It's nice to be among the people, I'm one with the world, the world is one with me. There's tinkling of coffeecups, voices of people, the smell of soup (if I hang in here long enough it will be ready to eat!)."

    (A guy next to me asks if I am making a grocery list. I should have, but I spent yesterday afternoon at my Spanish friend, who rebuilt his restaurant, so I ate calamares, the best in the world. So I better wait for this soup, there's nothing but leftovers in the fridge (and pinot noir from Wairarapa, whereabouts is that?). I just negotiated to get some famous Dutch peasoup, after all it's winter here, they don't make it in summer. I just returned from summer with only one hour of rain.)

    "What about this other song?"

    "You mean Prince Tui Teka: 'I need you for the life of me'." (I finally got this sea-food joke!)

    "I heard you from Nelson, sing it to me".

    "How can there be a song without the music?
    How can there be a wave without the sea?
    The lightning needs the thunder as a speaking voice.
    And I must have you for the life of me.

    How can there by a baby with no crying.
    A future with no past can never be.
    A humming bird can't live unless it's free to fly.
    And I must have you for the life of me ...

    Eat my pea soup first...

    I don't want you in my no-go area. It's one thing to change hats, but to change spaces?"

    "I know, I couldn't help it, but I'm out here with you now."

    "O.k."

    "Nice sunshine, a bit chilly though."

    "How about a hot chocolate, they make real good ones here, with lots of whiped cream."

    "And you waited to tell me that?"

    "Yeah, I needed your attention!"

    "Move over!"

    "Bring me a white chocolate icecream?"
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 19 February 2008 at 09:13 AM.

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    When I thought about this I was amazed that I actually wrote down a 'don't want', but when I looked at my notes I read 'I want you out of my no-go area', so it was a 'do-want': I changed it when I was typing. What's different about typing?

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    David, the emotional brain can't deal with negatives, so how am I going to establish the boundary between do's and don'ts?

    (Funny the guy next to me thought it was a grocery list: you don't write down groceries that you don't want!)

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    Don'ts are just mind-games, do's are needs or wants.

    A grocery list is a do-need list, a birthday list is a do-want list.

    So, a don't want list would be a conscious decision of the mind of something that I don''t need or want, but needs to be addressed somehow, because it causes problems. If you tend to do things you don't want, your mind knows it's no good for you, but your body doesn't, so if you can't help yourself, you keep doing it.

    You can only know what you don't want if you have some previous experience of it, which you didn't like. A don't want is something that already has happened to you, or of which you think that it will happen to you or you can imagine it can happen to you. If that previous experience is in a space that doesn't want to know, because it's too frightening, it's a no-go area.

    So how did you manage to move into my no-go area?

    I wanted you out of there, so I moved our you-and-me relationship unto my meteorstone (which landed in Chechoslovakia, and travelled to Glastonbury). The Maori believe that IO is in the universe, so that's a suitable place for now.

    Well, here's the mind-game: a 'don't want' in my ''no-go area'. I couln't write down 'don't wants', so I made a railway-crossing sign, glued it to the piece of paper and called it the 'no-go area'. I managed to find a way to the Marae while avoiding the railway-crossings, and the big monster came along, but we could giggle about it, since we were not on it's track.

    I think that is similar to how the brain works, as long as you can avoid being triggered through associations, you're safe. But your conscious brain needs to be alert and put down the barrier and ring the bells if the monster comes along.

    So I moved you out of my no-go area, because I didn't want you there. There's one don't want on the list now, or was it a do-want? What's the difference?

    Is this a nice double bind?

    "And when [this is a nice double bind], where does that come from?"
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 08 March 2008 at 09:49 PM.

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    Unhappy

    "You.

    I never had a problem with can do and can't do, so what's the difference?

    Can do is within my control, want comes from me, can't do is too bad but don't want is something that is happening to me, which I can't do anything about. Because if I could, it wouldn't happen, would it? I'd stop it, I would go away, and I wouldn't need to don't want it any more."

    "What would you like to have happen?"

    "I want you to move out of my don't want space. A no-go area is a space with don't wants, that I don't even want to know, and I do want you, so move over.

    I don't want to know don't wants: so here's the second don't want on the list. Reminds me of this 'I'm-not-going-to-make-an-action-plan list!'

    "And when [you don't want to know don't wants], is there anything else about [don''t want to know don't wants]?"

    I do know the don't wants, and I know I'm terrified of them, so I don't want to write them down, because that makes them more real and thus even more frightening. So I called it a no-go area, but then you moved in, which I don't want, because you are on my do-want list, so I wanted you to get out and I moved you, which was within my control, but not really.

    "ńnd when [it is within your control, but not really], then what happens?

    "It's just memories, they'll fade away and take me with you. I don't want that (number three on the list!)."

    "What do you know now?"

    "There are don't wants that I can write down and others that I can't."

    "What's the fourth don't want?"

    "I don't want any-you else in my no-go area either. I can't control a don't want within my no-go area."
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 08 March 2008 at 09:51 PM.

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    Steve: "Represent the bind - the details are not required and not wanted to be written - a bind on the bind so definitely double from their point of view. So by chunking up a level to represent the double bind, it escapes the receiver from working inside where they "do not want to be" - triple if not recursive."

    A bind always has a source, so by asking (A) the 'What would you like to have happen' question (B), a new starting point is created and the binder is ignored.

    In this case what I would like isn't possible, yet I need it. Someyou I need moved into my no-go area. So space would be required to represent it, which reality did for me with all those railway-crossings on my way to the Marae. We found a way around it, next to the railroad track and I could giggle along with the girls about the monster that couldn't hurt us.

    If I can differentiate between a no-go and a ... area, I might be able to separate them and distinguish one from the other. What is the criterium that makes one different from the other? What's the name for the other one?
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 08 March 2008 at 09:53 PM.

  17. #17
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    Default Reality is the binder

    The Marae represents it well: you can't go in unless invited, there are voices calling, songs sung. Pictures of ancestors on the wall; family and friends gathered.

    I chose not to look at you, but cherish you-and-me memories. It's o.k. for your body to be dead; you're still talking to me, my brain picks up on the synchronicities and allows me to be spoken to, in whatever form.

    Very often you-and-me would run into eachother coincidentally. "Only you can arrange for that to have happen!" you said, surprised. Eventually you expected me to show up somewhere and just raised your hands and made a funny look on your face: "You see how she does it!"

    Perhaps if you get to know someone, it's like the quantum particles, wherever either one of us goes, you-and-me are entangled. Our brains synchronise and we find eachother easily because we're on the same track. 'Me' walked the shell path this Sunday and we talked. 'Me' won't go anywhere without being spoken to; 'me' will speak to any-you wherever 'me' goes.

    [Don''t move; give me some dwelling time.]

    We didn't get to see the dark side of the moon facing us tonight; clouds hid it for me, so now there is just a picture in my mind of it shining and smiling last night.

    Well (E!), here's the triple!

    Like the Maori tribe, cheer me or sing me a song!

    Corrie
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 08 March 2008 at 09:56 PM.

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    Default Beauficel

    "Et qu'est ce que sait cet espace-ci?"

    Cet espace-ci sur le tapis bleu sait que tu pleurais de joie. Tu t'ťtais assis ici pour encourager Philippe, qui faisait un tableau vivant de tous les participants avec qui'l avait travaillť ces dernieres jours. De cette groupe ťmergeait la chanson "L'alouette" a cause de ton coiffure, que Sophie n'aimait pas tres bien.

    When I asked you a little later what that was about, you said: "These French really get to me!"

    The next day, when I cleaned the room, I broke the amphora. You promised me to glue it for me, but you didn't. Sylvie says that if it's broken, it's broken and we should get another one. But this one carried my do-wants, and somebody cruelly put in the no-go sign with them, which I left on the carpet, because I couldn't touch it. How thoughtless!

    It's good to be back here, it's nice and quiet. The chicken-lady gives you a hug, and the vegetable woman sends you a kiss. I bought you a Danish.

    Il y a un beau ficel d'ici a l'autre cote du monde. This beautiful thread will go into the tree we will plant for you in autumn, and it will be attached to the earth forever.
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 09 March 2008 at 08:57 AM.

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    Cool

    You gave us a little lecture on dimensions ("I knew you'd love it!", you said later.):
    a shadow is a two-dimensional representation of a three-dimensional object. (Of course, as usual, at that very moment the sun came out, so you could demonstrate it with a pillow.)

    So how does that apply to the lunar eclipse? The sun shines on the earth and the earth casts its shadow over the moon. But the moon has a round surface as well, so the shadow bends into a three-dimensional shape. Have you ever thought of that, Mr. Grove?

    So, what would the shadow of the shadow be like? Since the earth casts its shadow over the moon, we can't see it any more, just a two-dimensional circle of light on the edge remains, like the black hole that glows on the outside and reveals its amount of entropy on the surface, because only one of two particles gets in.

    And what about the other side of the moon, which we can never see from the earth?

    And if the earth would be in a three-dimensional shadow of a four-dimensional object, what could that be like?

    The sun is a three-dimensional object, but it doesn't cast a shadow because it is the source of light itself, other stars behind it are too far away to cast a shadow and look like one-dimensional dots to us.

    The moon and the earth both get their light from the sun, except if they are in each other's shadow, which is unavoidable sometimes, since they are both rotating around the sun.

    "What do you know now?""

    If you don't want to see a dark face, don't get in it's sunshine.
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 08 March 2008 at 10:00 PM.

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    Default

    Partir c'est mourir un peu, on laisse un peu de soi-meme en toute heure et dans tout lieu.

    Mourir c'est partir un peu, t'as laisse un peu de toi-meme en tout lieu que tu etais. Alors, pour me retrouver, il faut que je te cherche aux tous lieux auxquelles t'as laisse un peu de toi et que je pense aux toutes heures que nous etions ensemble.

    Le Gone, yesterday I asked the owner of the French restaurant with that name what that means. He said it's a guy from Lyon. I said that in English it means the one that has left.
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 09 March 2008 at 09:04 PM.

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    Smile

    Thank you for sending me Santana's 'Europe' on the radio for my birthday!

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    Well, guess what: the subtitle of Santana's Europa is 'Earth's Cry Heaven's Smile'.

    O.k., I take it back, I won't say again that you won't show up unexpectedly any more, because obviously you found a way to do so. Isn't it symbolic that these songs come on the radio, since I gave you mine?

    The Earth is certainly crying here today, so I'll make a fire. If Heaven is smiling, they probably look at you having found a hot tub!

    I told your mother I wouldn't be smiling if it wasn't for you and meeting with her learned me so much about you. You inherited this kind integrity of your people and it was always there.

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    Default A white Easter?

    I woke up from a sound to find out it was snow on my window, like the sound on a cold autumn night in Algonquin (Canada). It was like something was scratching my tent, so I kept quiet and thought which animal would do such a thing. And then the same sound on the other side. Two animals, with nails? Perhaps the sound of the zip would seem unusual to them and scare them off. When I looked outside, I saw a white carpet of snow in the moonshine. I got out and looked for paw-prints, but there weren't any. Then I suddenly realised it was the snow on my tent that had made the sound. In the distance there was another sound, like banging against a tree.

    I looked up to the sky, which was full of stars and I felt like they were watching over me. I walked down to the lake, which was dark black and completely still, so the Milky Way got reflected in it and it was like the stars were looking up to me, as if they wanted to let me know that whatever I did, staring up or looking down, they were always there to greet me. I never felt more safe in my life, although I was aware of the fact that a bear might show up any moment.

    I never saw a sky like that again until you were flown back to the Bay of Plenty.

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    Default April 20 2008

    Autumn, summer, winter: you’ve really messed up my seasons, but now it is spring again. I used to watch the New Zealand weather forecast to learn if you would be around soon. Usually you would fly in in spring. You were late last year, summer had begun, and you never made it home again.

    Now what about all these animals? It would be normal to come across one of them every now and then, but to see them all in one day? People get supersticious you know if it is all too coincidentall. Is my brain looking for clues?

    And they weren’t even adjacent in space: the black-and-white cat walked into my garden door. It is not as shy as Jerry’s, but doesn’t want to be touched. The tortoiseshell was chasing ducks, but it had a little bell around it’s neck: wouldn’t that be frustrating never to be successful? Remember the one that would sit on our newspaper, just wanting to be petted? And Flocke was on the news, abandoned by its mother. The chamois and ibex emerged from paradise when I was zapping t.v. channels. What am I to make of all that? It feels like nature is coming to me, so I don’t have to go look for it any more.
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 17 May 2008 at 08:14 PM.

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    Default

    Yes, I know now what they all have in common, thank you.

    It means a whole different picture and we have to scale out again.

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    Default Christmas 2006

    The cat was staring at the frog, which was wise enough not to move, being perfectly adapted to the greenish grey concrete tiles of the foothpath. Then it jumped one foot, and froze again. Within a few seconds another jump, freeze, jump, freeze, jump. Now it sat just at the edge of the footpath. The cat had watched this, moving its paw forward in an idle attempt, but being too confused to act. Now the cat stalked it and then touched the frog gently with its paw, but it didn’t move. Now isn’t that a wise strategy when you’re dealing with a cat?

    Birds are nesting in my garden, so I blocked the entrance under the fence to prevent the cats from coming in. I can’t protect the frogs from the birds though, but they are digged in at the edge of the swimming pool most of the time anyway, only to take a bath at my neighbours’ fountain every now and then. Sometimes they scare me by jumping away in front of my feet.

    The letter came in this week and it was good news. Good for me I never missed out on an opportunity to be with you, it would have been too late had I waited for this one. So now I can celebrate Christmas and appropriately my nephew has a baby now. The other red cat, Belle, conforted me back then, more than a year ago, crawling on my keyboard.

    When I did the clean space exercise at the IEP-conference there was this painting on the wall of the congresscentre with a Buddha, the fairy-queen and the frog. I put my B-post-it at the queen and realised only later she was looking into a mirror. I wasn’t able to make sense of it then and walked away from it (intruding on other people’s spaces!), turning my back on it. Now I can see these represent all strategies to accept a situation you can’t avoid: either take a Zen attitude, look into the mirror angry or freeze like a frog. Isn’t there a lot of wisdom in these fairytale archetypes?

    What I know now?
    Anger is the best strategy or people will stop at nothing. Well Mr. Grove, whom did I learn that from?

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    Default Courage

    Un vieil homme dans un grenier
    pour la nuit nous a cache',
    les Allemands l'ont pris;
    il est mort sans surprise.

    Oh, the wind, the wind is blowing,
    through the graves the wind is blowing,
    freedom soon will come;
    then we'll come from the shadows.

    Leonard Cohen, The Partisan

  28. #28
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    Dec 2003
    Location
    Holland
    Posts
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    Default

    Qui dove il mare luccica
    e tira forte il vento
    sulla vecchia terrazza
    davanti al golfo di Surriento
    un uomo abbraccia una ragazza
    dopo che aveva pianto
    poi si schiarisce la voce
    e ricomincia il canto

    Te vojo bene assai
    ma tanto tanto bene sai
    e' una catena ormai
    che scioglie il sangue dint'e vene sai

    Vide le luci in mezzo al mare
    penso alle notti la in America
    ma erano solo le lampare
    e la bianca scia di un'elica
    senti il dolore nella musica
    e si alzo dal pianoforte
    ma quando vide uscire
    la luna da una nuvola
    gli sembro piu dolce anche la morte
    guardo negli occhi la ragazza
    quegli occhi verdi come il mare
    poi all'improvviso usci una lacrima
    e lui credette di affogare

    Potenza della lirica
    dove ogni dramma e un falso
    che con un po'di trucco e con la mimica
    puoi diventare un altro
    ma due occhi che ti quardano
    cosi vicini e veri
    ti fan scordare le parole
    confondono i pensierei
    cos diventa tutto piccolo
    anche le notti la in America
    ti volti e vedi la tua vita
    dietro la scia di un'elica
    ma si, e la vita che finisce
    e non ce penso poi tanto
    anzi, si sentiva gia felice
    e ricomincio il suo canto

    Te vojo bene assai
    ma tanto tanto bene sai
    e una catena ormai
    che scioglie il sangue dint'e vene sai

    Caruso, Lucio Dalla

  29. #29
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    Dec 2003
    Location
    Holland
    Posts
    843

    Default

    "puoi diventare un altro
    ma due occhi che ti quardano
    cosi vicini e veri
    ti fan scordare le parole
    confondono i pensierei
    cos diventa tutto piccolo"

    From: Caruso, Lucio Dalla

    (You can become someone else
    But two eyes that look at you
    So close and real
    Make you forget the words
    Confuse your thoughts
    So everything becomes small)

    Dear David,
    Not being able to avoid a don’t want, I took my heavy burden and went into this black monster with ‘unload this way’ on the side, the purple of which actually looked quite nice on the inside. I sorted through the burden, selecting which items I could get rid of rightaway and which one’s I had to take to this lady in black. She was friendly and said that reading these files wouldn’t exactly make anyone happy. May-be, if ‘my eyes made her forget the words’, just may-be she’ll find a way.

    On my way back the train couldn’t follow the same trail, because of a signal disturbance, so I made a roundabout and came alongside this no-go area. I hope this lady in black will get through to them, so I can finally giggle about it.

    You said this story frightened you: indeed, anyone should be afraid of it.
    Last edited by Corrie van Wijk; 08 August 2008 at 12:14 PM.

  30. #30
    Join Date
    Dec 2003
    Location
    Holland
    Posts
    843

    Default On the Border

    On The Border
    Al Stewart

    The fishing boats go out across the evening water
    Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border
    The wind whips up the waves so loud
    The ghost moon sails among the clouds
    Turns the rifles into silver on the border

    On my wall the colours of the maps are running
    From Africa the winds they talk of changes coming
    The torches flare up in the night
    The hand that sets the farms alight
    Has spread the word to those who're waiting on the border

    In the village where I grew up
    Nothing seems the same
    Still you never see the change from day to day
    And no-one notices the customs slip away

    Late last night the rain was knocking at my window
    I moved across the darkened room and in the lampglow
    I thought I saw down in the street
    The spirit of the century
    Telling us that we're all standing on the border

    In the islands where I grew up
    Nothing seems the same
    It's just the patterns that remain
    An empty shell
    But there's a strangeness in the air you feel too well

    The fishing boats go out across the evening water
    Smuggling guns and arms across the Spanish border
    The wind whips up the waves so loud
    The ghost moon sails among the clouds
    Turns the rifles into silver on the border

    On the border
    On the border
    On the border

    Dear David,

    Now youíre sorry you didnít send me an e-mail in the first place. Yet I got your message.

    You once said that if something comes up once it can be random noise, if it comes up another time you notice it, and the third time you know it is important.

    So I heard this song a couple of weeks ago on the radio, then I searched my collection to find it on a CD somebody gave me as a present and I played it a couple of times. But to wake up in the middle of the night, turn on the radio and hear it again is difficult to label as a coincidence. What happened to my world receiver? Does it broadcast as well?

    And then there was this actor on the news who looked a bit like you, in a scene where he sort of apologized for being a mess and asked: "Just donít hate me, o.k.?"

    (Got a call from Noťmie!)

    He cried just like you did.

    "The ghost moon sails among the clouds
    Turns the rifles into silver."

    Why didnít you pursue this idea David?
    I know it is important: I read it in your reaction on your face when I asked about it.
    Were you still playing with it?

    What are you asking from me?

  31. #31
    Join Date
    Dec 2003
    Location
    Holland
    Posts
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    Default

    Dear David,

    Now youíve got CNN working for you as well: good timing, you must have learned that from me, to pick out the exact moment I am zapping thirty channels! Iím curious about the film, should be out soon.

    Another grave, another friend. Again I sat down on a bench and watched the gardeners do their down-to-earth job.

    Neither one of us made it to this earthly paradise this year and our friend has been waiting for us at the gate in vain.

    If only he could have been able to walk up that road. Perhaps like me he would have ventured to go into that dark tunnel. I told you the story of how I saw a faint shimmer some distance away and figured some kind of light should come in. I hadnít bothered to look at the map and just hoped it would end somewhere. Step by step, so as not to stumble on some kind of rock I inched forward. The shimmer turned out to be a wet spot on the wall and a little later the light came in. As I emerged from the dark this herd of chamois gazed at me. It felt like arriving in paradise. When I put down by backsack to find my camera they slowly got onto their feet and jumped off the cliffs. He could have followed them and pretend heíd get away with it. Or he could have gone further onto this path where I didnít dare to go, since it was so close to the edge. Our friend said never to go anywhere if you are not sure you canít make it back. Like the women dancing on the walls of the town it would only have taken only one wrong step to avoid an even more dreadful death. Or even further, beyond the mountain top, into this valley of white. Instead he chose a white piece of marble and was lucky to live long enough to die in the hands of his loved one. What was he thinking?

    I often told him where I found the skulls and bones in spring emerging from the snow. He would collect and study them, put them on this big rock in front of the tent and turn them into pieces of art. Thatís what he left behind and there is where I will remember him, like I picture you in Jenniferís classroom, standing tall, in 3D, lecturing us and guiding us through a session. Our combined thoughts of you will make you live on in a fourth dimension and our smiles will know now that David was here.

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