August 2009

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

How Mych Does Staples Charge For Fax

Manual

Cioran's desperation.

Nothing all that you have read and will read in this blog is what "I" I have written or write. Apparently words are only a tiny percentage of the communication, they say. That is: Nothing. Since communication in itself is simply a beautiful and useful illusion. I know I dance with you in the dark. Count on it. My sentences are woven like magic carpets that you can use or not. That's your decision. I know what I do. The carefully constructed as a goldsmith. The compose as witches do with their strange ointments. Are phrases that can dis-cover you endless possibilities. Because you are and all these possibilities. But the secret is not what I say, whatever it is for everyone. The secret lies in that a lovely friend called "trans-formative language." I know what I do when I say. I know. But I do not know what I mean, I do not care. It is your responsibility. I only care about what is impossible to control. My only intention is to provoke, even in a single person, a collapse, a silence. If reading, suddenly, you feel a silence, that will decisive door you forever. That will so that you find the answer that without knowing it, you went looking. I write to create silence. Peace is the silence. That freedom.

Many people who write or want to do often worry about expressing exactly what he means. They want to be understood. And that is a major cause of deadlock. "I" always encourage you to give it up. First, because well written. Without writing there is no reaction. Write, and then you can learn how others are writing. Second because, without fear of "the other" go to understand, likely to be more effective in creating emotions, though can not control what emotions created each one for himself to read. And third, because it is impossible to be understood, and worrying about the impossible is absurd. As the teacher said: "The secret of my serenity is collaborating with the inevitable." When reading the words from "other" your soul is projected on them, acquiring ways that might not have acquired without those words, and look at you and makes you from a new perspective and revealing. As with everything we call "reality" ... there is that mysterious and infinite mirror. "I, for you, I am" you. " I surrender. I surrender.

books for me were always mirrors. I am always surprised that people are hard to understand what the author "had meant." What matters to me, all that can be useful to me, is what this book says about me, like it or not the book, I like it or not what he says about me. Because I am "me" who is reading. And read it you who wrote that book. That book is born of contact in your consciousness with those words at that moment. The reading you do is your artwork beyond the book. If you transcend the separation, dualism writer-reader, then you can convert any text into a teacher, whatever you think of the text.

Many times I have received rave reviews that claimed to be absolutely according to what he had written, and to express their reasons was that they had not understood anything of what I had meant, or even that they understood backwards. When that happened to Cioran remembered that, before the unexpected success of one of his books, listening to the praise that it raised, said his success was due to a misunderstanding. His book was successful because it had been generally understood "backwards." Is it a success or a failure then? Both words seem empty now. If the book was useful for some people, understanding what they understood, or understood what they understood Cioran ... What the hell care what he I thought he meant to write? For me art is breath. I breathe my way. If you do not die. I show you what I give, what I am. And none of my business how you breathe, how they receive you, how to rewrite it in your mind what "I" wrote. Everyone should find their way to live a book of life.

I also have made comments in a tone of disagreement, and sometimes vehement, however, felt like I answered read anything that "I" never said, as if using my words through your ego only as an excuse to unleash their own monologue, to rewrite the same but their way. Felt they did not disagree with me, saying exactly the same as "I" had said, and that this supposed "disagreement" used it to express themselves. Then he stopped bothering me. Also understood that this could be one of the functions of writing: Encourage, encourage others to express their own way they feel. "The truth is what works." What if what you write is for someone to reaffirm what he thinks, and thus feel less alone and together and stronger, or to dis-cover what we feel and so lights up himself, or to by opposition, come forward to speak. Yet it is also what appears in the eyes of anyone. Words are not just words. It depends on what your inner magician decides to do with them, if you decide to change them. Like everything.

Maybe some people think that contradict with what I've written before, or even deny anything I've written, or the very meaning of it. Well. If so I invite you to go beyond what you read in the first place, beyond the way we usually work your intellect. There are many levels of meaning. At all. Many as you can imagine, as you dare imagine or you fancy. Note that if you're interested you had not got here. If you are not looking for something you would not be here in this sentence. Y what you're looking for is in you. Use these words to him. Look at them. Do not read only head. Read all the CURP. Let in the silence. Discard the impulse to affirm or deny what I say, taking a position on it as if it were separate from you, to decide whether you agree or disagree with what you think read, me or no reason. The reason I lost long ago. I'll give if you want. What I'm doing is cederte you responsibility, power. But do not think to give it "I" take it off or wash my hands. I have so much responsibility and power as "you" in all this. All that happens is that most of what I give you do not know. It happens through me, but not I decide not I control. Will what I say but not what I say. This gift is a mutual creation. Do your part and create your potion. If you want. Look at these words as he watches the sea, the clouds, like one who feels the wind. Words. Let me go through and think your transparency, your peace.

Someone recently advised me not to say "The truth does not exist", because doing so "he explained, refused what" I "wanted and loved it. As if that person knew what to look for and love. As if looking for something specific. As if something that does not love her. I argue that sentence that I find beautiful, fair, and magical. The meaning you give him is your own creation. But before closing this meaning I invite you to check back to read it. Maravllosa is a paradox. Is a phrase that itself is canceled. If truth does not exist ... that sentence can not be true, so true, then, exist. Now I will say the same thing another way: Everything is true. Everything is a manifestation of the truth. You can choose.

And now I look again contradicting: Communication does not exist, and yet everything is communication. But no motion, no direction, no way. No one issuer. No one receiver. We are all part of a deep and continuous unit. What happens in any be an impact on any "other." Because there is no "one" and "other." No separation. There is interdependence. The world learns through these amazing and different ways to call people. And even if you think isolate, or be self-sufficient, everything is in constant, setting a mysterious dialogue with himself. One, from the illusory person can only give what one is at that moment. You can only receive what you are at that moment. That is their function. But nobody is saying anything. Everything has been said already in you. You are learning from God himself. Understand as you want.

If you mean ... gave. If you want to write ... writes. Do not worry about being understood. Because there is no one to understand. There is nothing to understand. Join the dance. Sing. Play. Although streets ... say.