We can live an extraordinary life – if we dare reach out to each other in truth

My words are never ingratiating, and unlike many, I am not afraid to openly state the uncomfortable truth. As you may imagine, it is a truly lonely and, most of the times, thankless undertaking to express glaringly obvious things which are often politely or even fiercely rejected.

I do ask myself what´s the use of it all…- how come I don´t give up writing on this blog. But this “Inner Voice” of mine, is seemingly stronger than my rational self, and despite my soul-weariness, it asserts itself unceasingly…

Indeed, it feels unbearably lonely when the Voice is silent. I can tell you that It has saved me in the midst of unthinkable tribulations. So It simply wants me to further convey Its words to others who may need and want to hear it.

Its alleviating and even comforting impact in my own life, bears evidence of its safety bringing benevolence.

So, as it happens, Thomas Ross commented on one of my posts. His heartfelt words bears a vivid testimony that, after all, my writing not only may bring about a meaning for me, but can make a difference in someones else´s life. So inexpressibly encouraging to know!

Thank you Tom!

Here are his words:

“I am sitting in my home, listening to classic jazz – at the moment, Chet Baker – drinking a single malt, and I came here.

I was caught up by the concluding passage – “Our true home is wonder…and the knowing of this makes us safe…” In this moment, I am alone, in the ordinary sense. But as you say, we are each alone, existing in each wondrous moment – whether we are in a crowd, among friends – always just I, myself.

So many feel the terror of aloneness. But the sense of aloneness that I take from your work is nothing to fear. It is a kind of safety – although I’m not sure I would use that word – of course, what matter? the word. What matters is the willingness to step off the cliff. To turn away from all the false conceptions and the striving that each such conception triggers.

As I’ve told you before, you seem incapable of saying an ordinary thing about anything, which of course is one of the reasons I stop by. But perhaps the bigger reason is the hard-to-explain sense that amidst all the self-help bloggers and the love/human connection disciples, you stand as one who feels a truly deep sense of connection to others, that you just won’t give up trying to express what you know we don’t want to hear.”

Who is writing and who is not?

Says seeingwhatis

“Life” is a concept.
We were never born.
We die like wind and live like water.
Our life is the eternal play of form…

Me:

There is this Zen story:

The disciple tells the master ” I do not exist”.
In that very second the master harshly punches
the young man in the face asking him:

Is this punch real or not…?

So I ask you now:

Who is writing these words and who is not…?

Who understands them?…

Why?

Or…

Why not…?