Much of what happens over the networks is a metaphor - we chat without speaking, smile without grinning, and hug without touching. How sad to dwell in a metaphor without living the experience.
You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.
Maybe the greatest challenge now is to find a way to keep independence while also committing ourselves to the ties that bind people, families, and ultimately societies together.
Self-disclosure is sharing with someone information which helps him or her understand you. Self-disclosure is most revealing when the sharing is in the present and least revealing when the sharing is about the past.
Book: Reaching Out: Interpersonal Effectiveness and Self-Actualization (Boston: Allyn and Bacon) 1997, p. 33
You mustn’t force sex to do the work of love or love to do the work of sex.
Romance is process by which selfish individuals attempt to act selflessly to get what they want. Be it physical in nature (romance between two individuals), or an attempt to gain actualisation or knowledge (romantic ideas of the world). It is an ideal born of myths and legends that all people in our culture seem to aspire to - we watch movies and read books where romantic heroes do romantic things and get romantic results. Those results end up being perfect, being whole and complete. Which is quite telling about what we, the ones who watch those romantic things, truly want.
And what do each of us truly want? Well, most people will tell you that “everyone is different”, and then promptly list menial and material items or actions that will bring them some level of joy or satisfaction. But, really, what all people want is to just be closer to god. Which is to say, all people really want is to be perfect, and, that perfection can be at least partially attained through the romantic struggle.
Romance is not gifts. Romance is not one action. Romance is the struggle towards perfection.
And what do each of us truly want? Well, most people will tell you that “everyone is different”, and then promptly list menial and material items or actions that will bring them some level of joy or satisfaction. But, really, what all people want is to just be closer to god. Which is to say, all people really want is to be perfect, and, that perfection can be at least partially attained through the romantic struggle.
Romance is not gifts. Romance is not one action. Romance is the struggle towards perfection.
Chains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads, hundreds of tiny threads, which sew people together through the years.
Women might be able to fake orgasms. But men can fake whole relationships.
How little the dying seem to need—
A drink perhaps, a little food,
A smile, a hand to hold, medication,
A change of clothes, an unspoken
Understanding about what’s happening.
You think it would be more, much more,
Something more difficult for us
To help with in this great disruption,
But perhaps it’s because as the huge shape
Rears up higher and darker each hour
They are anxious that we should see it too
And try to show us with a hand-squeeze.
We panic to do more for them,
And especially when it’s your father,
And his eyes are far away, and your tears
Are all down your face and clothes,
And he doesn’t see them now, but smiles
Perhaps, just perhaps because you’re there.
How little he needs. Just love. More Love.
A drink perhaps, a little food,
A smile, a hand to hold, medication,
A change of clothes, an unspoken
Understanding about what’s happening.
You think it would be more, much more,
Something more difficult for us
To help with in this great disruption,
But perhaps it’s because as the huge shape
Rears up higher and darker each hour
They are anxious that we should see it too
And try to show us with a hand-squeeze.
We panic to do more for them,
And especially when it’s your father,
And his eyes are far away, and your tears
Are all down your face and clothes,
And he doesn’t see them now, but smiles
Perhaps, just perhaps because you’re there.
How little he needs. Just love. More Love.
Book: “John Updike’s Room” - Bedside Manners
There will be storms, child
There will be storms
And with each tempest
You will seem to stand alone
Against cruel winds
But with time, the rage and fury
Shall subside
And when the sky clears
You will find yourself
Clinging to someone
You would have never known
But for storms.
There will be storms
And with each tempest
You will seem to stand alone
Against cruel winds
But with time, the rage and fury
Shall subside
And when the sky clears
You will find yourself
Clinging to someone
You would have never known
But for storms.
Poem: Storms
One never reaches home. But whenever friendly paths intersect, the whole world looks like home for a time.
Book: Demian
Love is a joint experience between two persons - but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries.
To control others is to have power, to control yourself is to know the way.
They face each other, my father in a white jacket,
rented for the day, my grandfather
in a dark suit, tie too short, a light felt
dress hat with a dark band, the shadow
of the brim covering his eyes.
Graduation is over. They’ve just
come home from the high school. There’ll be
a little party. Before everyone goes inside,
someone, one of your brothers, says, “Wait,
we need a photo of Gilbert and Pa.
How about over there by the tree? Gilbert,
stand in front of the bench. Pa, you stand,
next to him. Okay, look at each other. That’s good.
Gilbert, don’t hide your diploma.” So
you hold the roll of paper a bit higher.
Dad, that bench is so close, right behind you,
if you backed up at all, you’d have to
sit down. Go ahead. Sit with your dad.
There’s enough room for the two of you,
and smile. He’ll reach his arm around you and
tell you how proud he is.
Now, the tall pine is gone, slashed in a storm.
The large yard, now covered by the house built
by one of your brothers, then shared
with his son and his son’s wife
until last year when your brother
came home one night to find them
inside, refusing to open the doors.
There he stood, on his own front steps, 89,
locked out, forever.
I would like to stand in the space
between you and your dad, and say,
“Let’s sit together on this bench. Let’s talk
about the things that frighten us,”
and we’d talk about boilers that explode,
long trips on rough seas to small islands,
why a son, given everything,
would turn on his father, his family,
the love of family.
rented for the day, my grandfather
in a dark suit, tie too short, a light felt
dress hat with a dark band, the shadow
of the brim covering his eyes.
Graduation is over. They’ve just
come home from the high school. There’ll be
a little party. Before everyone goes inside,
someone, one of your brothers, says, “Wait,
we need a photo of Gilbert and Pa.
How about over there by the tree? Gilbert,
stand in front of the bench. Pa, you stand,
next to him. Okay, look at each other. That’s good.
Gilbert, don’t hide your diploma.” So
you hold the roll of paper a bit higher.
Dad, that bench is so close, right behind you,
if you backed up at all, you’d have to
sit down. Go ahead. Sit with your dad.
There’s enough room for the two of you,
and smile. He’ll reach his arm around you and
tell you how proud he is.
Now, the tall pine is gone, slashed in a storm.
The large yard, now covered by the house built
by one of your brothers, then shared
with his son and his son’s wife
until last year when your brother
came home one night to find them
inside, refusing to open the doors.
There he stood, on his own front steps, 89,
locked out, forever.
I would like to stand in the space
between you and your dad, and say,
“Let’s sit together on this bench. Let’s talk
about the things that frighten us,”
and we’d talk about boilers that explode,
long trips on rough seas to small islands,
why a son, given everything,
would turn on his father, his family,
the love of family.
Poem: Photograph/1936 from What Calls Us
We each have our own path to tread. That seems such a simple and obvious thought, but in the world of relationships where so many people subliminate their own true feelings and desires in consideration of others, we take far too many steps off that true path. In the end, though, if we are to truly be happy, we must follow our hearts and find our way alone, leaving that consideration behind.
The hatred you’re carrying is a live coal in your heart - far more damaging to yourself than to them.
I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me.
While the predictions always said we’d have super smart, perfect-acting AI machines that would be our robotic servants, Thompson believes that (like the too perfect human representations), such AI creeps us out. However, as soon as it becomes “needy,” we’re drawn to the cute little puppies that need our care and feeding.
I turned off the phone, dumbfounded. How had this happened? How had we managed to speed through all the stages of an actual relationship almost solely via text message? I’d gone from butterflies to doubt to anger at his name on the screen, before we even knew each other.
Article: “R We D8ting?”. New York Times. July 24, 2005.
I think we are well advised to keep on nodding terms with the people we used to be, whether we find them attractive company or not.
Treasure each other in the recognition that we do not know how long we shall have each other.
A relationship, I think, is like a shark. You know? It has to constantly move forward or it dies. And I think what we’ve got on our hands… is a dead shark.
Movie: Woody Allen’s “Annie Hall”
You can make more friends in two months by becoming interested in other people than you can in two years by trying to get other people interested in you.
Kindness and intelligence don’t always deliver us from the pitfalls and traps: there are always failures of love, of will, of imagination. There is no way to take the danger out of human relationships.
An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but never break.
Proverb: Chinese
To be capable of steady friendship or lasting love, are the two greatest proofs, not only of goodness of heart, but of strength of mind.
There is nothing in the world so attractive as someone who will dream with us, merge their dreams with our own, clarify the path toward the actualization of the dream, and lock their arms into ours while walking the path.
Shared laughter is like family glue. It is the stuff of family well-being and all-is-well thoughts. It brings us together as few other things can.
Blessed is the influence of one true, loving human soul on another.
Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much.
A human being is part of a whole, called by us the “Universe”, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separated from the rest—a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circles of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.
What a laugh, though. To think that one human being could ever really know another. You could get used to each other, get so habituated that you could speak their words right along with them, but you never knew why other people said what they said or did what they did, because they never even knew themselves. Nobody understands anybody. And yet somehow we live together, mostly in peace, and get things done with a high enough success rate that people keep trying. Human beings get married and a lot of the marriages work, and they have children and most of them grow up to be decent people, and they have schools and businesses and factories and farms that have results at some level of acceptability—all without having a clue what’s going on inside anybody’s head. Muddling through, that’s what human beings do. That was the part of being human that Bean hated the most.
Book: “Shadow of the Hegemon” by Orson Scott Card, pg 58
<After all our conversations, I still have no notion of what it is to be one of you.>
<Nor do I understand anything more than a glimmer of the way you think,> said Human. <But isn’t that a good thing, too? The mystery is endless. We will never cease to surprise each other.>
<Till death ends all surprises,> said the Hive Queen.
<Nor do I understand anything more than a glimmer of the way you think,> said Human. <But isn’t that a good thing, too? The mystery is endless. We will never cease to surprise each other.>
<Till death ends all surprises,> said the Hive Queen.
Book: “Children of the Mind” by Orson Scott Card, pg 302
By asking questions in your relationships you are already creating the relationship, and you are already self-motivated. You don’t have to wait for the other person to make it happen.
Book: “100 Ways to Motivate Yourself” by Steve Chandler
If you live only for yourself you are always in immediate danger of being bored to death with the repetition of your own views and interests.
A part of you has grown in me. And so you see, it’s you and me together forever and never apart, maybe in distance, but never in heart.
To be trusted is a greater compliment than to be loved.
It’s the little things…there is nothing bigger, is there?
Movie: Vanilla Sky
“Miro, I’m so sorry. I always felt such pity for you humans because you could only think of one thing at a time and your memories were so imperfect and…now I realize that just getting through the day without killing somebody can be an achievement.” “It gets to be a habit. Most of us manage to keep our body count quite low. It’s the neighborly way to live.”
Book: “Children of the Mind” by Orson Scott Card, pg 273
So I can grieve for the lost child, and yet not regret the good man braced with pain and riven with guilt, who yet was kind to me and to many others; and whom I loved, and whom I also almost knew. Almost, almost knew.
Book: “Children of the Mind” by Orson Scott Card, pg 356
That’s what isolation was doing to her and she knew it. Whatever they were hoping for, it would probably work. Because human begins are just machines, Petra knew that, machines that do what you want them to do if you only know the levers to pull. And no matter how complex people might seem, if you just cut them off from the network of people who give shape to their personality, the communites that form their identity, they’ll be reduced to that set of levers. Doesn’t matter how hard they resist, or how well they know they’re being manipulated. Eventually, if you take the time, you can play them like a piano, every note right where you expect it.
Even me, thought Petra
Even me, thought Petra
Book: “Shadow of the Hegemon” by Orson Scott Card, pg 108