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A sense of warmth on a cold day. Once again, rocking back into the concept of Pairing. Renewed by reading this. And thinking about how Pairing starts out as Separateness and then becomes Oneness. More or less. How much natural order there is to that. How much might be realized through that slow conversation .
Then thinking about that more. Thinking about teaching. Learning. Teacher. Student. And then Attribution. So many different views on that really. How to express the sense of what we have been given by others. How it is that it might help us grow. Considering how an artist might simply Be a teacher. How a thought is offered.
Lately there seems to be a renewed acceptance that stealing is the key to a creative life. I agree wholeheartedly that creative thought is derived from what has gone before, what surrounds you. But I'm sorry. I resent the word Steal. It's the wrong word. Steal like an artist? It makes the uncommon all very common. Because , I think it justifies the tendency to aggressively plot and transgress trust to make your way in this world. Feeds it. Brings it all back to business as usual, which is really sad. It encourages the worst in us. The worst of us. Twists the idea behind the creative process into something so unkind. Steal celebrates taking instead of receiving. Takes the sympathy out of evolution. It's the wrong word.
I don't think so. One doesn't steal what has been given. One receives it . As nourishment. A different thought entirely. A whole different ethic. How you think makes you who you are. Think like an artist, not a corporation.
No original thought. Pooh. Thought by nature is a kind of soup, slow cooked with loving care, respect for good ingredients and the hope to nourish. This makes a soup special. Worth sharing. Stealing a recipe will not make you a good cook. Not really, don't kid yourself.
Make soup like an artist.
I thought disabling comments was good idea on this one. Just think about it.
I'll be back to talk more about the cloth and the wood later.
Sitting here in this one room that we are heating for the winter. Sitting here talking to myself a lot more as I work. And look. And grow older. Different now that I purposely reversed the habit of video and audio when, as I talk to myself, I am really talking to others. So conscious of how different that actually is. Turned out to be. How long I have tried to consider it the same, make it that way. But it isn't. Hasn't been. I ask myself, once again, could it be?
Why doesn't it become that? Does it need to?
The hearts on this one seemed very trite this morning. I thought about heart. Heart as core. Also heart as shield. Then, can one heart really touch another. Without something more than just proximity, pull. Alliance?.
I thought, take them off. They are too...too common place. Empty. I cut. I reconsidered how one heart might affect another. And the symbol itself as an easy language component.
Honesty. How uncommon it is. How it is the ultimate gift. How ever much it might hurt.
Still it is there to offer isn't it? Shall we or not? In this past year that I grew old, I realized more clearly that I wasn't born yesterday. I have many things noticed, realized, yet unspoken. For fear, Just Maybe, of ripping hearts open. Maybe even my own.
Today is a big day in a small room with many questions.