When I was a
lass lad kid, I read as much as possible about ancient and Romano-Britain. In many of the stories, ancient Britons of various tribes would preface thoughtful words with, “it is in my mind…” and you could feel the weight of it. I loved those stories, still do actually. I use those words mentally sometimes, because it’d sound very pretentious aloud and some of the things I use it for stay there, in my mind. Sometimes I think, “it is in my heart…”, which sounds even worse aloud – unless you’re in Braveheart or Highlander or something.
I love this quote, I love Camus.
The solidarity of bodies, unity at the center of the mortal and suffering flesh. This is what we are and nothing else. We are this plus human genius in all its forms, from the child to Einstein.
No, … it is not humiliating to be unhappy. Physical suffering is sometimes humiliating, but the suffering of being cannot be, it is life. … What you must do now is nothing more than live like everybody else. You deserve, by what you are, a happiness, a fullness that few people know. Yet today this fullness is not dead, it is a part of life and, to its credit, it reigns over you whether you want it to or not. But in the coming days you must live alone, with this hole, this painful memory. This lifelessness that we all carry inside of us — by us, I mean to say those who are not taken to the height of happiness, and who painfully remember another kind of happiness that goes beyond the memory.
*chirpy voice and laser pointer* And in my mind today, scattered thundershowers are moving towards this *point* low and… eh, idk. I’m tired and probably over stimulated by good people and their voices.
Thank you for your beautiful words in response to the post about my mother’s birthday, I was and am too tearful to reply. I’ll visit your blogs when I get time and space. I miss you. I miss me too, I wonder where I am.