Has the finger of death to be laid on the tumult of life from time to time lest it rend us asunder? Are
we so made that we have to take death in small doses daily or we could not go on with the business of living? And then
what strange powers are these that penetrate our most secret ways and change our most treasured possessions without our
willing it?
Virginia Woolf, Orlando
No, we are not of such stuff made
ReplyDeleteAs is buried by the diggers' spades;
But of substance so shining, to shine, shone
That it can break the strong. \
est eyes to gaze thereon.
Michael T Me.
i imagined you might have something to object to this quote :-)
Deletethe question is: how much dark is needed to make the "shine" shine so strongly? and how much dark is too much?
(happy to see you here again)
i don't know. when it is theoretical it is one thing. and then when it becomes real it transforms. it begins by arriving in the physical, transmutes to the hyper-emotional, and morphs again into a new physical presence becoming our skin, our organs. who can know it? it is new each time and yet eternal.
ReplyDelete(for a brief moment i consider what life might be without death. this too is no paradise, but sometimes we might trade one hell for another.)
xo
erin
i have been reading a lot of Virginia lately and i came upon this quote late at night, one of the worst nights i have had in a long time - and suddenly it seemed that my own thoughts fell into place, like a puzzle - forming the same questions. i felt, somehow, relieved, though of course, there was no answer, how could it have been. i know you are a bit in the "opposite" camp here (from the discussions on Simone Weil, over there at James's, and from your own writing :-) - celebrating the necessity of suffering, of "moments of death" to be able to live joy more profoundly - to BE more authentically... i however, instinctively, tend to reject this - but in the end, i am not sure, how could i be?
Delete... and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
ReplyDeleteThe Tempest (4.1.168-170)
oh, Prospero, how much needed, these words, this sleep...
Deletethank you!!!
hello beautiful Roxana, oh another masterpeice on the bridge of dreams.
ReplyDeletehow I love the images subtle and beautiful - your wand pointing to the profundity of the moment the strange powers that reign over the deliquescent moment-the strings of dna beaded with the jewels of the diadem of sagittarius passed onto our hearts from the phantoms of the decrescendoing of the echoes of our ancestors of time immemorial-the erasure of death.
thankyou for another beautiful journey
sending you star kisses.
Madeleine, i am so touched and so grateful for this most poetic comment... these strange powers are there, aren't they? they cannot be known, expressed - only talked and photographed around :-) maybe the wand is only apparently "mine", they hold it and make it move, from within me...
Deletelots of hugs, this late winter is mild here, soon there will be spring kisses to send :-)
Si délicat...Bises
ReplyDeletemerci, chere K'line...
DeleteAs time goes by, I do feel that the recurring absences of things and people once present gives me a perspective about my being which one day will not be at all. I'll be in the realm of the invisible for others to ponder. I will become but a hole in the reality they once viewed as me. A ghost is a visible absence.
ReplyDeleteDan, maybe such thoughts come to some of us with age... but for others (they must be cursed, or is this a hidden, painful blessing?), they are always there (as it is my case). though indeed the experience of losing people and things, which becomes richer with age, is something that cannot be understood without living it... (i mean, understood in one's blood and bones, not just imaginary).
DeleteLo que hay en esa mano, son todos los viajes, un viaje más tan hermoso como posible ha sido...
ReplyDeleteGracias Roxana!!!
muchas gracias a ti tambien, Luthien... y: welcome on the Bridge! :-)
DeleteI commented earlier but something was wrong with my log in and I don't think it took, so I will go again. (Please, feel free to delete one or the other if there's a repeat).
ReplyDeleteI read an interesting book by Ernest Becker called, "The Denial of Death," in which he concludes that human behavior is governed by consciousness of death.
There is also an interesting documentary called "Flight from Death," which looks at this theory and applies empirical data to back it up. (It clarified a lot for me). Of course, this is not at all as poetic as Virginia Wolf's words or your images.
I loved mirae's words: "strings of dna beaded with the jewels." I thought the same but not as eloquently!"
i didn't get any other comment, and i am grateful for this one, i will look up those references... i had this quote and wanted to post it, it was not easy to find fitting images for it, i am pleased that you approve of my choice and find them as poetic as the words :-)
ReplyDeletecred ca tin minte citatul:)si cat de familiar imi este acest gest,cum isi atinge ea clavicula-stii ca sunu un fan al acestei parti a trupului,inseamna atatea...eu o ating des,dar in sens invers:ca sa ma asigur ca ceva pulseaza acolo,ritmic,independent de ceea ce as putea eu controla,gandurile despre disparitie si cum va fi.este,intr-un fel,originea vietii,daca imi este permis un astfel de cliseu,o reasigurare prin tactil.un fel de doar aparenta predare-purpuriul navaleste,de neoprit.
ReplyDeleteatat de bland,ca o parere,si viata,si moartea.
Such expressive, artistic fingers in the first image, holding onto life but not too tightly....
ReplyDelete