31 October 2011

CHAPTER THREE  -  Rumi. 
WEEK SEVEN. conversation by clair and charlie

"Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.".
.
Rumi

 ~ ~ ~

Tonight I recover from the flu's kiss.  My throat is exhausted, swollen with its cruel tongue.  I ponder, why it is, in moments of illness, that I most feel racked and drawn by impossible desires. Images of sensual ravishment that are hopeless for a ravished fevered body. Dreams that rock this mind and heart with seas of wonder to drown my sore eyes.  Your voice, like the inside of a shell, soothes from my phone. Fresh from travel, you are a mermaid, a circus artiste, a beautiful box of becoming that has left me in old pyjamas.  I am conjured to write again, feel the touch of words.
charlie

god i love the line 'move outside the tangle of  fear- thinking'... it is such a tangle...mopping up everyone in its path... i have been shown recently about trust and fear...i have challenged fear face on.  face on. and found only heart.

your desire comes with flu charlie because flu is the only time you lye down.
clair .)


Face on - i face up to the mirror, to the face in the mirror. I am face on to a face that is on to me, facing me in a loud silence of skin and mannerisms.  i cannot leave the fear-thinking behind, a voice perpetuating impossibility inside, the litter of the mind without a bin to fall in or out through my chattering mouth. The face stares back, face on to me,  blissed in silence, its lips moving meaninglessly. A voice departs like passengers hurrying from a crashed plane. I have nothing to say, except the face that says nothing to me. I should face up to it, it does not fear to reflect me. I feel, how beautiful it would be, to become someone's mirror. Like a mouse, silently.
charlie
  
...i had a friend, who, on saying something nice to him, like, that he was beautiful,  said back to me 'i am your mirror'. 
i could tel you more.  he was very special in many ways.  a perfect fit.  but in other ways, a perfect misfit. and i got veeeeeery hurt in the rest of his company....  in the parts when i wasnt saying something nice to him and he wasnt saying 'im your mirror' back to me.  it still hurts now.  how close it was to being the type of love i had been searching for, but also how very much not the type of love i have been searching for too: all spikey and difficult and critical exceedingly..  - for sure, if he was reading this now he would criticise it.  and not quitely either.
this writing tonite goes out to all those hearts who search and search and search, in there own way, and who stil stay alone when they would prefer to love together, when they would prefer to experience together and when they would prefer to sleep (and occasionally snore)  !!  together!!  ;) ! @ * 
 clai

In Cocteau, the mirror was a portal. A glassy curtain to travel between worlds. As if one can dip a finger into the surface, pulling apart an image into ripples on water. For Reed, the mirror was a place to hide one's blankness into, and catch the personality of another in it's reflecting net. How i want to hide in the mirror, silent, still, shining back like a lighthouse through a stormy night.Can a mirror see thought? Thought crime. I,'m so guilty, so convictable. I need a mirror to wrap me in someone else's image, and bite on glass within.  How does one escape the mirror one has become? Please, lift me out from this image, into another...
charlie

'can a mirror see thought'. i  like it.  i think mirrors can see thought though facial expressions but they dont actually know that thought is. they are blind in this way in yet they see all.  

leonard cohen always insited on recording in front of a mirror in a recording studio.

also, not have some access to mirrors or somekind of reflection, over a period of time,  has been used as a form of tourture 

we are constantly changing charlie.  you will never see the same person looking back at you... and to quote  leonard coehn a second time! .... in one of his songs on a live album, he encourages people
'not to go home with the person that you came with'  
he chants this over and over again.  the audience were all getting ideas concerning selecting  another girlfiriend/boyfriend to return with, when they realised, he is talking about ourselves.  yes indeed. @)*&
clair


coming home to ourself is a journey we often get lost in. Seduced by the promises of transformations and deeper identities, the sad adverts in a Glastonbury shop siren us to the rocks of other, elsewhere. The tangle is like a cardigan to wear in comfort and cast off like skin for another outfit to pose within. But only the bath knows who i really am, the audience to what slips out submerged in bubbles, when we sink beneath and hear the echo of our head. In a world where everyone is becoming something more quickly, just to be seems an anarchy of idle truth. And so, i find solace as a tree. Suddenly.
  
'move outside the tangle of fear-thinking'
what is the opposite to fear? is it trust?
if i trust eternally will i always be rewarded with such? 
if i trust you are you more likely to be trustable? the answer is yes.  ive seen that....lots of times.
its energetics.  good and bad energy travel like dominos in a line and it takes a very strong domino to stop the flow and an even stronger one to change its direction.  .good energy travels in a line and spreads out.  bad energy travels in a line and speads out.  

if i smile at someone in the street are they more likely to smile or give good energy to another person?...absolutely and definatly yes. 

its the small things.. there should be nothing to get lost in.

                                 &&&&&


and so i absolutely challange the world not to be better .... more nuturing, more sustainable a happier place, if everyone simply gave, in form of a smile or a little tiny bit of help or a little portion of positive regard to another...if we all gave it just once, would that mean that everyone had been given a little!?  yes it would! - if it have been spread evenly....
clair

The opposite to fear is love.  Everwhere, for everyone, in everything. Melting to death.

oh yeah..:)
good words.
c

writing with you is like rolling in the snow )

thank you charlie ;)

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