Inside Upside Down and Backward Blog (9)


Today’s recurrent theme is…walking on a tightrope. I feel ambiguous and perhaps lost. And then, I open my eyes, and I am all-together, walking on a tightrope.

The search to unlock and enhance my expression began with this video, embedding is disabled please click the link which will open in a new window for you. I had a very strange reaction while listening to his words and how he felt as he was doing the walk. It took my breath away in that often embarrassing manner when my eyes tear and my body shakes in awe. I do not often share this feeling with others. When I have tried, it seems that others cannot comprehend it, and I keep it private for the most part.

I took my eldest child to college this weekend. I noticed that the process was a lot like walking alongside someone with a terminal illness. I, of course, kept this to myself, trying to know what my daughter required of me and thinking not to be expressive in a manner which she dislikes. I could not tell, while observing the similarities in providing for a dear departing friend, if I was not really knowing what to do, or in a very balanced grounded state observing and coping nicely.

Several bits of my head say, I am confused. Some say, YAY!! Independence for meeee! Other parts say, Look at her goooo!!! Still other parts say, ok I let go of the bike, does she want me to walk away, or watch intently and to remove obstacles or catch the bike before she might fall. Yes, indeed I am walking a tightrope. Images in my mind show me silly things like lily-pads to jump on away from the imagined rope, but then they are just another place to choose to place my feet, one step at a time. I am thinking(thought) this blog after I located the video and the quotes that will follow. Both the quotes and the video helped me to express to the outside, or perhaps they did not help me, but I used them. Semantics are wonderful for expression, denial, and love.

I did not choose one quote today, as at the time of writing I wasn’t/am not completely finished exploring why this theme.

“A well-developed sense of humor is the pole that adds balance to your steps as you walk the tightrope of life.”
William Arthur Ward

“In the beginning you must subject yourself to the influence of nature. You must be able to walk firmly on the ground before you start walking on a tightrope.”
Henri Matisse

“In this day and time, with no competition you are really walking a tightrope. I mean you may think that no competition is good, but in reality no competition is really bad. ”
Jerry Lawler

“Life is always a tightrope or a feather bed. Give me the tightrope.”
Edith Wharton

“My wife says that stage acting is like being on a tightrope with no net, and being in the movies, there is a net – because you stop and go over it again. It’s very technical and mechanical. On stage you’re on your own.”
Eli Wallach

“Skill is successfully walking a tightrope between the twin towers of New York’s World Trade Center. Intelligence is not trying. ”
Marilyn vos Savant

“The leader can never close the gap between himself and the group. If he does, he is no longer what he must be. He must walk a tightrope between the consent he must win and the control he must exert. ”
Vince Lombardi

“The world may end up under a Sword of Damocles on a tightrope over the abyss.”
Andrei A. Gromyko

Inside Upside Down and Backward Blog (8)

This morning, I got up to the sounds of soft rain falling. I stumbled along in a pleasant sleepy stupor headed to the tea getting spot. The cinnamon sticks smelled heavenly and my mind flashed to autumn. Part of my brain jolted awake to promptly smack and shut up the season rusher–we like summer after all! No worries, the stupor returned after three dunks of the teabag. (I didn’t know you cared enough to worry.)

I sat at my desk. Tiny birds in the sand cherry, bouncing and shaking the drops that had been clinging to the branches for a) my own pure delight, b) to help the birds to get clean, or c) for dear life. NO! There are NO other options, tis my own blog so THERE!

I noticed the puddle around the light post and considered going out to run through it with feet bare, was a short consideration, the feet wish to stay unjolted and sleepy too. Kathy’s puddle and still water pictures are most wonderful and they are where my mind turned next. Ok, not next but promptly after I sniffed and slurped my tea. She can be found over at Lake Superior Spirit, all of her blogs are linked there. She might even provide a comment if she has done a blog particularly about puddles.

Fixated upon, I mean engaged by puddles, I thought well perhaps there is something that I am to find today having to do with puddles or some concept others attached to one or to them.

First came:

Is/was very funny to me, that’s how my written expression has been feeling of late, hence no blogs, but lots of movement as if I were working very hard upon it. I might be full of uhmm…Mud. Puddles however are great for ridding self of mud.

Then I thought, well you cannot just put up that video, what kind of blog would that be–this really means that I was worrying what others would think AND that I wanted attention. Some of me rolled our eyes at those parts, go ahead you can do it too. Sometimes it can be easier to roll eyes at others than at selves. I dunno why I just typed that last bit, maybe you might ignore it? I continued my search, it led me to this:

Mark Harden’s Artchive Escher, Maurits Cornelis

Woodcut in three colors
24 x 31.9 cm (9 1/2 x 12 1/2 in.)
M.C. Escher


“Non-being is a mirror, the world an
image and man
is the eye of the image in which the person is hidden
You are the eye of the image, and
the light of the eye.

Who has ever seen the eye
through which all things are seen?

The world has become a man
and man a world.

There is no clearer explanation than this
When you look well into the root of the
He is at once seen both seeing eye
and thing seen.”
– Mahmud Shabistari

Perhaps I was just to look into the puddle! Simple.
(abrupt ending warning!!)
The End!

Morning Trip (30)

“Nonviolence means avoiding not only external physical violence but also internal violence of spirit. You not only refuse to shoot a man, but you refuse to hate him.”
–Martin Luther King Jr.

I’ve been mulling over this post for quite a while. It came up in connection to me standing my ground, asking for what I wanted, and moving through–what felt at the time, a brick wall. As I waited for more information to come to me, sorrow, forgiveness, expression, inner flame, and the soul’s core also waved their hands for me to attend them. This post is more fluid, a process, like the gasoline in the video. It has the many properties of fluids, with one extra–combustion. Do we hyper focus on the moments? being in the now, as is the current fad and buzzword? or do we flow along that continuous fluid and base our actions there? How do you feel?

Morning Trip (29)

“I see my beauty in you. I become
a mirror that cannot close its eyes

to your longing. My eyes wet with
yours in the early light. My mind

every moment giving birth, always
conceiving, always in the ninth

month, always the come-point. How
do I stand this? We become these

words we say, a wailing sound moving
out into the air. These thousands of

worlds that rise from nowhere, how
does your face contain them? I’m

a fly in your honey, then closer, a
moth caught in flame’s allure, then

empty sky stretched out in homage.”
– Jelaluddin Rumi
The Glance Songs of Soul-Meeting

A Story, for Kathy

Here is a story:

Once upon a time, there was a man, oh and a woman
[this should tell you something immediately, unless it tells you the wrong thing]
the man was himself, the woman was herself–happily and gloriously so.
In fact, it took several years for the woman to even believe that the man truly did enjoy, experience, and accept even her worst fanged fits.

True, the man had his own fits. The woman watched these, sometimes with comments, sometimes with the woman managing them silently, and many many other times the woman simply observed learning about him.

The man asked about the woman’s dreams and desires and allowed her plenty of space to express them with smiles and promises to meet as many of them as he was able. I might add, as with all communications, that there were certainly correct and incorrect assumptions made about the level of importance of each item. But for the most part for a very long time the man and the woman talked about everything and thus, knowledge about what was really going in passed between them evenly. This process allowed for the man’s need for control, which the woman noted cautiously but consented as long as needs were being met…it seemed such a small concession for the exchange.

Then one day, it seemed one day though it had been happening a little chip at a time, the man asked about the woman’s desires and laughed a wicked laugh inside his heart. He thrilled at the power to withhold from himself that which he needed most from the woman, and inflicted that upon her. As his power was in his anger, he became more angry at not gaining what he needed and imposed further restrictions upon the woman’s ability to provide them.

The woman was confused and became uncertain and stopped expressing herself. She sat and she filtered through all of her observations, her wisdom, and her knowing. She went deep down inside herself, past her inner flame, into the deep inner pool of cool clear water to wash herself clean and to gather again.

The end, or another most excellent beginning!