the road taken and discarded
Understanding the past causes us to move forward?
Quite possibly..
But that depends on what it is that we understand. Or think we do.
I'd like to think that understanding the present is what keeps us going forward,
because trying to understand the past is what holds us back.
What happened? Why? And how do those past events affect my actions and thoughts today?
These are relevant questions that I have no interest in solving.
And sometimes when I wish I could go back in time, I try to remind myself
exactly how it felt to be stuck in the past.
All is illuminated. Amygdala. Ad infinitum, ad nauseam.
but hey,
I am only human...
Burggasse, my soon to be home for a little while.
Quite possibly..
But that depends on what it is that we understand. Or think we do.
I'd like to think that understanding the present is what keeps us going forward,
because trying to understand the past is what holds us back.
What happened? Why? And how do those past events affect my actions and thoughts today?
These are relevant questions that I have no interest in solving.
And sometimes when I wish I could go back in time, I try to remind myself
exactly how it felt to be stuck in the past.
All is illuminated. Amygdala. Ad infinitum, ad nauseam.
but hey,
I am only human...
Burggasse, my soon to be home for a little while.
An offer she can't refuse
Browsing for events in Vienna for my upcoming séjour, I stumbled upon this ad.
Now, einstein said that:
So I won't.
Vienna offers package: Vienna Love Story.
Long weekend, travel, accomodation and man included?
European city, free spirit, nostalgic soul? All the variables are there.
Now, einstein said that:
the definition of insanity is to do something over and over and over again
and expect a different result.
So I won't.
expect a different result.
But I might
do it over and over.
Why trade momentum for future, anyway?
Why trade momentum for future, anyway?
A kiss with a fist is better than none
Sure, he was all cities, real and imagined. Every dream, exerienced and anticipated
It is easier to be real in a vacuum,
Must we be caught defenseless, taken by surprise
And, what's more,
a safe haven, a miraculous adventure, the forbidden and the deserved.
He was all this, but also, other things...Fear, failure and ferocity.
It is easier to be real in a vacuum,
to tell the truth when nobody can hear you.
Why is that?
All those things we say to ourselves alone at night..
what we wish for, what we secretly hope someone will know
But what we never reveal.
Must we be caught defenseless, taken by surprise
to know what we really feel, what we want?
Can we only be true when our arms are bound, our weapons hid from us?
And, what's more,
what becomes of the cities, the dreams and the failures..when the fireworks are over?
The cities where we build our homes, the dreams we settle for and the inevitable failure to feel.
I do not want to look back and realise that the mistakes I have made,
the things I really regret, were not errors of judgement but failures of feeling.
drip, drip, drip
just a small drop,
slipping through the surface.
barely visible,
but hardly unnoticed.
_________________________________________________________
slipping through the surface.
barely visible,
but hardly unnoticed.
_________________________________________________________
Midsommar 2011: Unforgettable girl's reunion
Questionist.
It is easy to get stuck in the habit of being yourself.
Going in one direction simply because you never took a turn,
never checked the map to see what it is you are heading towards.
Accumulated costums become destiny.
They say it's not the destination, but the journey.
There is only the road that you must travel
- and if it leads you nowhere...?
If it leads nowhere, you keep on walking.
You walk the walk. You live the life. You live.
We spend too much time being the self that we think others want to see
and we see ourselves reflected in their eyes, too busy pleasing to ever be pleased.
Where do they end and I begin?
I will not be defined by where I arrive.
The road I must travel is winding and, yet, wide open.
There is no end-station, no framework. only lit up moments to lead the way.
And did you ever think about how destiny is just like destination, but shorter?
You'll find it just before you get there.
____________________________________________________________________________
"Muere lentamente quien evita una pasión,
quien prefiere el negro sobre blanco
y los puntos sobre las "íes" a un remolino de emociones,
justamente las que rescatan el brillo de los ojos,sonrisas de los
bostezos, corazones a los tropiezos y sentimientos.
Muere lentamente quien no voltea la mesa cuando está infeliz,
quien no arriesga lo cierto por lo incierto para ir detrás de un sueño,
quien no se permite por lo menos una vez en la vida,
huir de los consejos sensatos."
quien prefiere el negro sobre blanco
y los puntos sobre las "íes" a un remolino de emociones,
justamente las que rescatan el brillo de los ojos,sonrisas de los
bostezos, corazones a los tropiezos y sentimientos.
Muere lentamente quien no voltea la mesa cuando está infeliz,
quien no arriesga lo cierto por lo incierto para ir detrás de un sueño,
quien no se permite por lo menos una vez en la vida,
huir de los consejos sensatos."
(c) Pablo Neruda "Quién muere".
The hypocrisy of life (To carry on or to simply carry)
There seems to be a general consensus:
going back- bad; going forward- good
But even so, we cannot help turning back.
The past is our only point of reference, so how can we do anything else but look back?
We grow old, we keep on living, we carry on;these are all metaphors for progression.
Yet we do all these things hesitantly.
We buy creams to stop from aging, gather photographs to remind us of what we already have lived,
We carry our past on our backs.
Is this, then, the paradoxical destiny of mankind?
We are inherently driven by the idea of progression but we can never let go of our past?
Having invented machines to make everything but ourselves obsolete,
all we wish for is to sit around a fire and tell each other stories.
The stories we sit up late to hear are love stories.
And it is the same story told and told again for centuries.
You and me.Him and her. Different names, another time
Carpe diem: to seize the day (and never let it go?)
going back- bad; going forward- good
But even so, we cannot help turning back.
The past is our only point of reference, so how can we do anything else but look back?
We grow old, we keep on living, we carry on;these are all metaphors for progression.
Yet we do all these things hesitantly.
We buy creams to stop from aging, gather photographs to remind us of what we already have lived,
We carry our past on our backs.
Is this, then, the paradoxical destiny of mankind?
We are inherently driven by the idea of progression but we can never let go of our past?
Having invented machines to make everything but ourselves obsolete,
all we wish for is to sit around a fire and tell each other stories.
The stories we sit up late to hear are love stories.
And it is the same story told and told again for centuries.
You and me.Him and her. Different names, another time
Carpe diem: to seize the day (and never let it go?)
This may not last but this is now...
"I ask questions but I can't answer them. I am not a hero, only a chessboard knight hoping to be swifter than the game. While I kept my life to a series of clever moves, I felt well, almost happy, I left no time for reflection. I didn't want to see myself in the mirror. The tight chain of events began to separate, not physically, I was as busy as before, but emotionally, spiritually. I began to slip between the gaps, the reassuring stepping stones were pushing further and further apart. When I could no longer hold on I let go, with some terror and yet some relief. I let go into unknown currents, a voyager through strange seas alone."
(c) Arts and Lies. J. Winterson.
The Road Not Taken (remake)
/I shall be telling this with a sigh.../
Memories are like rain,
It is only with distance that you can ever look back and understand
You rarely realize when you stand in front of a crossroad,
But somewhere in all of this
Sometimes we take the road less travelled by because it is the less advisable one to take.
Memories are like rain,
some drops small, so small that you hardly feel them on your skin,
others falling hard, causing a splash, water gets in your eyes.
It is only with distance that you can ever look back and understand
See what really happened, where it was all determined.
You have a clear vision of the way, of where you chose your path
and the one you left untouched (although it, too, wanted wear..)
You rarely realize when you stand in front of a crossroad,
that the tiny step you take in one direction or another is going to make all the difference.
You shouldn't seal illogic with a kiss, but we do it all the time not knowing the answer.
Who can ever know, and who would ever want to?
But somewhere in all of this
in all the exhilarating confusion of the unknown
wouldn't it be comforting to know that we learnt something from our mistakes?
That we will not end up in that room again,
wondering how a few foreign words can break down all your defences,
how it can feel so right to do something so irrevocably wrong.
Sometimes we take the road less travelled by because it is the less advisable one to take.
And that makes all the difference.
NOTE:
Robert Frost has a slightly different take on The Road not Taken.
A little less egocentric and a lot more beautiful.
The common denominator
He says he thinks too much, analyzes the world, always the outsider looking in.
She doesn't know it, but he watches her in her lonesomeness.
Her solitude is the answer to his questions. Her independence the proof of her fittingness.
A compensation for his subordination.
He needs attention, never quite sure that he is enough.
Trading his looks for recognition, not letting anyone know what is on the inside.
Everybody needs a reason to get up in the morning and he had one, but he betrayed it so she left with another reason.
Perhaps he should try someone else, she if she fits..
Perhaps he should try someone else, she if she fits..
His eyes sees the world as a challenge he can't wait to take on. His pockets are full of strategies, his head filled with dreams. But his heart fears for its destiny. All he wants is to be found, he is waiting for Passion to take him to a faraway land.
Never the patient type, he meddles with fate. Maybe she'll fit...
She tries to look straight but her vision is blurred. She is a beacon for the lost but she cannot see.
Are we all just stray souls afraid to be forgotten at sea?
Holding on to driftwood, hoping something- anything- will keep us afloat?
I taught you him how to swim but he betrayed me.
/Greek proverb/
feel it fall, or do you feel at all?
Any man in America,
release 16th August.
Everything you're not supposed to be.
I don't believe that time heals all wounds.
Everything that happens shapes you, makes you view the world a little different. Alters your perspective.
And I would not want to heal: for better or for worse, every wound is an imprint that lasts forever.
But things change. And suddenly,
I am wakling those same old streets and it isn't unbearable.
Pass by the places we once passed and I have to force myself to think of you.
This city is no longer you. My memories finally untangled, separated.
Yours is a silhouette increasingly fuzzy around the edges; more a scent than the shape of a man.
A fleeting scent that passes just enough for me to smell it.
I remember for a second, but then-
Only the smell of summer.
Everything that happens shapes you, makes you view the world a little different. Alters your perspective.
And I would not want to heal: for better or for worse, every wound is an imprint that lasts forever.
But things change. And suddenly,
I am wakling those same old streets and it isn't unbearable.
Pass by the places we once passed and I have to force myself to think of you.
This city is no longer you. My memories finally untangled, separated.
Yours is a silhouette increasingly fuzzy around the edges; more a scent than the shape of a man.
A fleeting scent that passes just enough for me to smell it.
I remember for a second, but then-
Only the smell of summer.
London
It is with a heavy sense of newfound love that I leave this city
its scattered cafes, its exaggerated polite people and its varying weather.
And perhaps with a few new things to think about for myself
and about myself.
There are some important questions in life
and then there's the rest.
Wouldn't want to pick the wrong ones.
its scattered cafes, its exaggerated polite people and its varying weather.
And perhaps with a few new things to think about for myself
and about myself.
There are some important questions in life
and then there's the rest.
Wouldn't want to pick the wrong ones.
Easy (reprise)
In this day and age there is no value in taking your time.
But what if difficulty is a value in its own?
I don't want to always take the easy way. I don't want life to be a supermarket.
In the challenge lies the adventure. In the adventure everything comes to life.
Nothing is hard, nothing takes time, all you could ever imagine is right there,
within your reach,
just a few clicks away.
But what if difficulty is a value in its own?
A little hassle, a few obstacles, the good fight... what if they are the things that create the value?
The heavier the burden, the truer our lives become, isn't that what he said?
I don't want to always take the easy way. I don't want life to be a supermarket.
Standardized menues,
Compartmentalized personalities,
A stereotyped life in the fast lane?
In the challenge lies the adventure. In the adventure everything comes to life.
No quick fixes, no duct tape.
Just do it, I will fake it til I make it, but in the end I will get there.
Arriving somewhere, but not here.
