I am sure many readers of this particular blog (yes, de moi) don't even remember my blog's existence. For that, I believe, whoever still chooses to come visit here will read the article in the following link all the way to the end:
david foster wallace's commencement speech
This was forwarded to me a few years ago by a dear friend of mine. When I read the speech, I felt someone had hugged me when I needed one the most. I felt not alone. I think I was sitting in my studio apartment one cold winter night after a long day of @))$(@%*.
Here it is, and I hope it will give you what you need right now.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
no more posts?
--------------Zzzz---------------------------------
"And indeed, if Eugene Irtenev was mentally deranged when he committed this crime, then everyone is similarly insane. The most mentally deranged people are certainly those who see in others indications of insanity they do not notice in themselves." - Tolstoy
Remember the foster parents i mentioned in an earlier post (must have been a year ago)? They are back saying, "I told you. You couldn't last being alone much longer." Does going back to them make me the most mentally deranged person according to Tolstoy, or is that just life?
I have been reading a lot of Korean books that were written to young adults and books written by young adults (yeah, people my age are publishing books now. I am old). They seem to ask themselves similar questions that I ask myself, and they live in fear, hopelessness and confusion. Is that life? Or is it because no one is doing anything about it, so the vicious cycle continues? Or maybe I am just a little coward in the corner cursing everyone else while some people are actually out there doing something about it. Perhaps I am victimizing myself too much and turning away from everyone.
To be (finally) honest, I don't think I had always been honest with myself. Most adolescents go through tormenting childhood (am I wrong), and I thought what doesn't kill me only makes me stronger. With this kind of mentality, I marched on without looking back or sideways. I thought suffering was necessary to accomplish anything. When I realized this suffering is only taking away my happiness and health, I stopped and couldn't take another step.
You know when you are dancing, and you get frustrated because you cannot get a particular step correctly, or you cannot balance enough to hold a double pirouette? Sometimes when I breathe and let go, I get the greatest joy from simply moving even if I don't make the step perfectly. The joy coming from imperfection and the unknown as to where my body will flow. Sometimes I need to remember this when times get rough and I feel like I want to shatter into pieces.
"And indeed, if Eugene Irtenev was mentally deranged when he committed this crime, then everyone is similarly insane. The most mentally deranged people are certainly those who see in others indications of insanity they do not notice in themselves." - Tolstoy
Remember the foster parents i mentioned in an earlier post (must have been a year ago)? They are back saying, "I told you. You couldn't last being alone much longer." Does going back to them make me the most mentally deranged person according to Tolstoy, or is that just life?
I have been reading a lot of Korean books that were written to young adults and books written by young adults (yeah, people my age are publishing books now. I am old). They seem to ask themselves similar questions that I ask myself, and they live in fear, hopelessness and confusion. Is that life? Or is it because no one is doing anything about it, so the vicious cycle continues? Or maybe I am just a little coward in the corner cursing everyone else while some people are actually out there doing something about it. Perhaps I am victimizing myself too much and turning away from everyone.
To be (finally) honest, I don't think I had always been honest with myself. Most adolescents go through tormenting childhood (am I wrong), and I thought what doesn't kill me only makes me stronger. With this kind of mentality, I marched on without looking back or sideways. I thought suffering was necessary to accomplish anything. When I realized this suffering is only taking away my happiness and health, I stopped and couldn't take another step.
You know when you are dancing, and you get frustrated because you cannot get a particular step correctly, or you cannot balance enough to hold a double pirouette? Sometimes when I breathe and let go, I get the greatest joy from simply moving even if I don't make the step perfectly. The joy coming from imperfection and the unknown as to where my body will flow. Sometimes I need to remember this when times get rough and I feel like I want to shatter into pieces.
Friday, February 10, 2012
words
After seeing the film "Pina," i was walking around the theater (which was designed and built like a museum or some concert hall) and found a little card at the theater shop that seemed to speak directly to me:
"LET GO or BE DRAGGED"
I also thought this quote was insightful:
"Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time." - from Kafka on the Shore
"LET GO or BE DRAGGED"
I also thought this quote was insightful:
"Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time." - from Kafka on the Shore
Thursday, January 12, 2012
dancing patiently....
in one of Rainer Maria Rilke's letters to a young poet, Rilke talks about having to be patient- what patience means to an artist and a human being. In the process of changing my lifestyle and becoming who i want to be, I have become fearful of everything. Even breathing can be a burden. Going outside and interacting with people can be discouraging. Abnormally so, you must think.
Back in the day when i would sit in front of my laptop for over 12 hours a day, i wondered what it would be like to fight for what i want and to live the way i should. then i told myself this, "just because i am dancing everyday does not mean i will be happy everyday. there will be gloomy days.. months even, and i will have to struggle with other things, even those that are unexpected." certainly i could envision what my life would bring if i were to pursue what i love. it's similar to being in love with someone and there are certain sacrifices that are made in order to be with that person completely.
perhaps right now, i am afraid to fully make those sacrifices. to be willing to trust myself completely, giving myself the permission to really DO EVERYTHING i must do, to love myself and to be okay even if i make mistakes or fail miserably from time to time. i must wait for that hour when a new sense of clarity is born. in the meantime, i must train and continue to observe, breathe in the beauty and the tragedy of life, and most of all, to be patient.
Here is the excerpt from Rilke's letter:
"Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless as criticism. Only love can touch and hold them and be fair to them. Always trust yourself and your own feeling, as opposed to argumentation, discussions, or introductions of that sort; if it turns out that you are wrong, then the natural growth of your inner life will eventually guide you to other insights. Allow your judgments their own silent, undisturbed development, which, like all progress, must come from deep within and cannot be forced or hastened. Everything is gestation and then birthing. To let each impression and each embryo of a feeling come to completion, entirely in itself, in the dark, in the unsayable, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own understanding, and with deep humility and patience to wait for the hour when a new clarity is born: this alone is what it means to live as an artist: in understanding as in creating.
In this there is no measuring with time, a year doesn't matter, and ten years are nothing. Being an artist means: not numbering and counting, but ripening like a tree, which doesn't force its sap, and stands confidently in the storms of spring, not afraid that afterward summer may not come. It does come. But it comes only to those who are patient, who are there as if eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly silent and vast. I learn it every day of my life, learn it with pain I am grateful for: patience is everything!"
Back in the day when i would sit in front of my laptop for over 12 hours a day, i wondered what it would be like to fight for what i want and to live the way i should. then i told myself this, "just because i am dancing everyday does not mean i will be happy everyday. there will be gloomy days.. months even, and i will have to struggle with other things, even those that are unexpected." certainly i could envision what my life would bring if i were to pursue what i love. it's similar to being in love with someone and there are certain sacrifices that are made in order to be with that person completely.
perhaps right now, i am afraid to fully make those sacrifices. to be willing to trust myself completely, giving myself the permission to really DO EVERYTHING i must do, to love myself and to be okay even if i make mistakes or fail miserably from time to time. i must wait for that hour when a new sense of clarity is born. in the meantime, i must train and continue to observe, breathe in the beauty and the tragedy of life, and most of all, to be patient.
Here is the excerpt from Rilke's letter:
"Works of art are of an infinite solitude, and no means of approach is so useless as criticism. Only love can touch and hold them and be fair to them. Always trust yourself and your own feeling, as opposed to argumentation, discussions, or introductions of that sort; if it turns out that you are wrong, then the natural growth of your inner life will eventually guide you to other insights. Allow your judgments their own silent, undisturbed development, which, like all progress, must come from deep within and cannot be forced or hastened. Everything is gestation and then birthing. To let each impression and each embryo of a feeling come to completion, entirely in itself, in the dark, in the unsayable, the unconscious, beyond the reach of one's own understanding, and with deep humility and patience to wait for the hour when a new clarity is born: this alone is what it means to live as an artist: in understanding as in creating.
In this there is no measuring with time, a year doesn't matter, and ten years are nothing. Being an artist means: not numbering and counting, but ripening like a tree, which doesn't force its sap, and stands confidently in the storms of spring, not afraid that afterward summer may not come. It does come. But it comes only to those who are patient, who are there as if eternity lay before them, so unconcernedly silent and vast. I learn it every day of my life, learn it with pain I am grateful for: patience is everything!"
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