Jun 3, 2016
Intelligence and intuition are two friends. - Unknown
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Germany
seen from Canada
seen from France
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from France
seen from Russia
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Romania
seen from France
seen from Georgia
seen from Australia
seen from Switzerland
seen from Iraq
seen from France
seen from United States
Intelligence and intuition are two friends. - Unknown
blessed bewilderment
“Sell your cleverness, and buy bewilderment.”
I am not ashamed to tell you that the first time I read these words many years ago, I was completely bewildered. And I didn’t even have to pay for it!
I couldn’t comprehend why on earth anyone would want to be bewildered. What could possibly be gained other than an undesirable reputation for airheadedness? The worst thing ever! (not really) I admit…
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It almost feels weird
that I am not at all worried about anything.
Don't dwell on what has passed away, or what is yet to be.
Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack, a crack in everything That's how the light gets in. Those lyrics had been going round and round my head the last couple of days - I couldn't put my finger on why, really, but it felt important, something I wanted to write everywhere, wanted to idly scribble in notebooks, but didn't - it felt too internal to try and record. Those particular lines from Leonard Cohen's Anthem were a near constant presence in my head. I don't think I'd ever truly thought about what those lines meant until this week, and now I don't know how I ever misunderstood. On my goodbye card from work today (and that sounds so generic, the image of awkward office types under tube lighting gathered quietly around a Michel's mud cake, but it's not that, it's so not like that here, and isn't leaving this place a whole other post) someone I hugely respect and admire wrote that exact lyric, unaware that I'd been thinking on it so hard recently. Entirely unrelated, entirely unprompted. I'm still so blown away, but I suppose it means the feeling (all feelings, if you unpack it) is not as internal as I thought. It's huge and everywhere, Jung's collective unconscious, Freud's archaic remnants. I feel I have to listen to the universe, the wide blue sky, the whatever, when it reveals the pieces like that. It goes well with something else I stumbled across this week: this is not your destruction, this is your birth. Everything is broken, and everything is good.