Comments | kakayaraznica: (без темы)

kakayaraznica

(Untitled)

Feb 02, 2005 17:28

milking myself for words, is what i have been reduced to by the intrusion of Real Life into my carefully crafted universe. i once asked "how does one balance waiting with living?". now, id like to know how one balances living in- and out-side of one's head. pardon the abundance of medical metaphors, kak govorit'sya chem dushim, to i pishem. ( Read more... )

Comments 8

it doesn't suck chainik143 February 3 2005, 15:41:09 UTC

I think its a simple matter of acceptance. There is nothing wrong with balancing between these two worlds. In fact, they complete each other. One lets you escape in it when there is turmoil in another, so you can regain strength and go back. It might sometimes be painful to be suddenly thrown from one to another, but I look at it the same way I look at waking up early every morning: that sucked, but i am here now, so lets make the best of it. What often happens is that positive energy from one finds its way into the other, and you can actually feel happy and satisfied from all directions. Just say to yourself: "it doesn't suck". Ask nymphochka, I recall she has been practicing meditation lately :)

Re: it doesn't suck kakayaraznica February 3 2005, 18:43:52 UTC

the rpblem is i cant navigate at will. im either here or there, i usually i have no idea how to get back to the other one. to use the sleep/waking metaphor - i feel like either an insomniac or a somnambulist...

Re: it doesn't suck chainik143 February 3 2005, 19:06:38 UTC

which way is more difficult? imaginary back to reality?
usually some sort of a catalyst helps. but its personal. as for me, music for one direction, gym for the other work well :)

Re: it doesn't suck kakayaraznica February 3 2005, 19:19:09 UTC

hmmm... gym could be an option.

Thread 7

fireruler February 5 2005, 05:49:26 UTC

sucks, does it not?
well, there is an old way for ships (those poignant with anger and frustration) and vessels (these guys are a bit more peaceful) to come to the harbour: let out the lines one by one, spin them on the reels at the peer. With each more line the gap is smaller, waves abate, the ethereal takes its rightful place within real. Touch, though, still brings the hug of salt and winds of the endless ocean, then, and timelessly, nostrils are enveloped in the smell of cut grass, toes sink into its green cares--all leaving the soul hovering between the heaven and the earth, under the sun, joyful of its warms. what are your lines?