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Sunday, March 03, 2013
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Centre of Stillness
We all have within us a center of stillness surrounded by silence.
Dag Hammarskjold 1905 - 1961
Dag Hammarskjold 1905 - 1961
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
But I'd like if we could be friends
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| Right you are Mr. Barrow, If that's all I think I can manage that. |
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| Thank you, Jimmy, Thank you. |
An interesting conclusion to season 3 for Thomas Barrow. Redemption of a sort and finally being able to show that he is vulnerable underneath the villainy. Jimmy Kent's capacity to forgive takes him by surprise, even though it was what he dared to hope for. He finally has a friend who perhaps will become a confidante who may take him out of his loneliness and despair. Jimmy knows that he is homosexual, but puts that and what has happened between them to one side. Something, I believe, Thomas feared no one would be able to in order to become a friend.
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Centre of stillness
We all have within us a center of stillness surrounded by silence.
Dag Hammarskjold 1905 - 1961
Dag Hammarskjold 1905 - 1961
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Edvard Munch (1863 - 1944)
In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.
What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.
A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is--
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.
Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.
Theodore Roethke (1908 - 1963)
In a Dark Time
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood--
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.
What's madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day's on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks--is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.
A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is--
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.
Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.
Theodore Roethke (1908 - 1963)
In a Dark Time
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