“I think it’s easy to mistake understanding for empathy – we want empathy so badly. Maybe learning to make that distinction is part of growing up. It’s hard and ugly to know somebody can understand you without even liking you.”
— Thomas Harris, Hannibal
Gathered are some less commonly read quotes by Carl Jung. I highly recommend all of my followers to stroll through them and really enjoy his rare genius:)
Just a little neat piece of poetry that I found and I hope anyone who see/reads this will go a little further to read Fiesta Estrella’s poem…
WE’ve got ancestral
gifts and diseases.
my virtue is collecting them
all, from where I am. Whatever is in reach.
My virtue is whatever name you
want to call me.
My virtue is showing up.
We’ve got aches and pains
that begin at the roots,
and touch every branch.
We’ve got friends with similar
diagnoses. Each leaf is a name
for what is really just pain.
What is pain but energy,
and I’m sorry but I only
took one creative writing class.
I got an A.
Grades don’t matter, but I got an F in Satire
AND I didn’t do that on purpose just to prove a point.
Do you know what does matter?
Your answer is flesh, made real.
We’ve got crayons in heaven with our
names on them. Do you know how
beautiful you are?
We’ve got superhero bandaids for
every single one of us.
For showing up.
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‘…I am alone as death would be if not for the mind’s
anima with its strong breathing…’
Amma L. Liwil, (Serendipity’s Point)
1. (of language) engraved on or suitable for engraving on stone and therefore elegant and concise.
“a lapidary statement”
of or relating to stone and gems and the work involved in engraving, cutting, or polishing.
1. a person who cuts, polishes, or engraves gems
Middle English (as a noun): from Latin lapidarius (in late Latin ‘stonecutter’), from lapis, lapid ‘stone.’ The adjective dates from the early 18th century.
NEXT: a poem by Amma L. Liwil, (The Serendipity Point)
I AM LAPIDARY
To find out through serendipitous synchronicity,
the vital truth hidden since my birth that I am of a lapidary line. Who knew….
I have always been strangely pulled toward the polished roundness of river rocks. The need to collect and then precisely inspect each and every pebble, gemstone,rock or petrified fossil form with an intent suited for the gold rush obsoletes. I have always been primed to smooth out and polish brightly, a shine that will attract the pupil of eyes to see a little bit of etched out missing bits of life lived invisibly so by all of those unknown….
They hold space between art and legends just so a slight maybe will be the chance of recovery and additional discovery of a past still lingering about the humid breath of the
giant living things.
I am the most tired woman in the world. I am tired when I get up. Life requires an effort I cannot make. Please give me that heavy book. I need to put something heavy like that on top of my head. I have to place my feet under the pillows always, so as to be able to stay on earth. Otherwise I feel myself going away, going away at a tremendous speed, on account of my lightness. I know that I am dead. As soon as I utter a phrase my sincerity dies, becomes a lie whose coldness chills me. Don’t say anything, because I see that you understand me, and I am afraid of your understanding. I have such a fear of finding another like myself, and such a desire to find one! I am so utterly lonely, but I also have such a fear that my isolation be broken through, and I no longer be the head and ruler of my universe. I am in great terror of your understanding by which you penetrate into my world; and then I stand revealed and I have to share my kingdom with you.