mea culpa

[hermeneut]

I'm writing more journal entries in private these days, as I don't feel like being public about the psychological hermeneutics that pervade my writing. I'm not sure if I feel too misunderstood, or not misunderstood enough. In any case, I'll keep in touch. Keep inside of touch, tactfully intact and in contact, touched that you think(s) this of I

Comments

[skippers]

I don't tend to have enough time to be attentive to other people's lives and thoughts on livejournal, but I want to reach out here and say that whatever the difference in our styles of organizing our perceptions and probes of/into the universe, I hope you don't go completely private! I value your inquisitiveness and seeking mind, and I wish that they remain available

[hermeneut]

Thank you for you sympathy. Certainly, I'm not going completely private. In fact, I find myself retreating from public writing only as a means to learn better how to express myself openly. We could call it, retreat in the service of transcendence, or more simply, backing up to make room for a running start before a leap of faith. Your image of the "sounding board" is perfect. Resonance, creative communication, we paitently pursue the infinite task of expression our intentions and extending our impressions.

As always, I will stay in touch, in the flesh of the spirit.

[kinderheldin]

I understand ...

Know, though, that I thoroughly enjoy reading whatever you're willing to let other eyes read.

[kinderheldin]

I thought of this poem by Auden when I read your post here, but I couldn't remember enough of the poem's words to find it. I just remembered ... (By the way, your discussion on water has truly resonated with me -- keeps coming back to mind ...)

O Where Are You Going?

"O where are you going?" said reader to rider,
"That valley is fatal when furnaces burn,
Yonder's the midden whose odours will madden,
That gap is the grave where the tall return."

"O do you imagine," said fearer to farer,
"That dusk will delay on your path to the pass,
Your diligent looking discover the lacking
Your footsteps feel from granite to grass?"

"O what was that bird," said horror to hearer,
"Did you see that shape in the twisted trees?
Behind you swiftly the figure comes softly,
The spot on your skin is a shocking disease."

"Out of this house," said rider to reader,
"Yours never will," said farer to fearer,
"They're looking for you," said hearer to horror,
As he left them there, as he left them there.

-- W. H. Auden

[hermeneut]

I can always count on you to understand these sort of existential dilemmas, with the ears of a poet, a healer, a teacher. I appreciate it deeply, and it is always from these depths that I am ever motivated to write, in public or private. I'm touched that you were moved by my discussion on water, as I too am continuing to return to water in contemplation and dreams. Learning to swim, in a psychospiritual sense: this is exceptionally important work.

Thank you for the Auden poem. It's perfect. I feel like it emerged out of my own personal unconscious. The phonetic play of the poem beautifully reflects the rhythm of question/response -- the systole and diastole of existence. My spine tingles just letting the words rise in my throat.

Thanking, Thinking.

[elryn]

I would miss you if you go. Would you consider going friends only, or create a new filter? I feel a strong connection to your writings, please don't go away completely

[hermeneut]

I would miss you too. Missing all beings is fundamental to the task of loving all beings. The more we love, the more we miss the inexhaustible depths of the other.

I won't go away completely. I'm just regrouping, regressing, binding myself back into the alchemical crucible to forge myself anew with the fire of spirit and the light of poetic enchantment. When I return into the rhythm of writing, I'll be more public, more prolific, and more available to the creative power of communication.