From the silence grows the words. Observe the
silence deeply, let it culture in you what it will. Before the first
word there was what? Silence? Or is there just silence about what there
was? And after the last word what? Silence? Or just silence about what
there might be? The knowing that is deeper will not let us say, cannot
be shaped and packaged into words, will not conform into thought, is not
of the mind or of conception, is of the heart alone and is no more than
the quickening of its beat.
Jung, the Quakers and Hitler: Irene Pickard (1891–1982) – reflections on researching her archive and other musings
Showing posts with label Daoism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daoism. Show all posts
Tuesday, 10 July 2012
Wednesday, 20 April 2011
Falling through time
I am no more than a bundle of absurdities falling though time and laughing.
Saturday, 16 April 2011
Each breath
Drink each breath for they are all that we have.
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