9. The world you live in is sick. This sickness creeps into all of us, and in many it manifests as an inability to love oneself, let alone others. Some of those afflicted with a parasitic strain of this illness will latch onto you as a host. You may believe it is part of your nature to nurture and support endlessly. These people will eat your love whole, and you with it, and leave you as a husk. You can grow again from your husk, but it will be hard, and it takes time and the training of betrayal and heartbreak to learn to trust yourself enough to determine who is worthy of your trust. Do not let anyone ride you. Only walk with those who will walk side by side with you, as an equal.
Maxine, back from a weekend with her boyfriend, smiles like a big cat and says that she’s a conjugated verb. She’s been doing the direct object with a second person pronoun named Phil, and when she walks into the room, everybody turns:
some kind of light is coming from her head. Even the geraniums look curious, and the bees, if they were here, would buzz suspiciously around her hair, looking for the door in her corona. We’re all attracted to the perfume of fermenting joy,
we’ve all tried to start a fire, and one day maybe it will blaze up on its own. In the meantime, she is the one today among us most able to bear the idea of her own beauty, and when we see it, what we do is natural: we take our burned hands out of our pockets, and clap.
“It seems to me that when it’s time to die, there would be a certain pleasure in thinking that you had utilized your life well, learned as much as you could, gathered in as much as possible of the universe, and enjoyed it. There’s only this one universe and only this one lifetime to try to grasp it. And while it is inconceivable that anyone can grasp more than a tiny portion of it, at least you can do that much. What a tragedy just to pass through and get nothing out of it.”—
It has been fifteen months since the death of Ed Bachta, and we still miss our friend and colleague. Ed was a devoted and productive member of the museum technology community whose quiet gentleness and unwavering decency were balanced by his relentless curiosity and quirky intelligence.
Ed, a developer on the IMA Lab team, loved the Museums and the Web conference, where he was a regular presenter and an avid learner. The conference and community were a haven for him as it is for many of us, and he was at home amongst a community of peers who embrace the unique interests, varied talents, and disparate temperaments of our membership.
- Susan Chun on my former colleague and friend, Ed Bachta.
Special gratitude to the beautiful museum technology community. For whom, i am forever grateful.
in most human beings, the heart does its work unattended. even though its behavior governs the course of our lives, it is not understood. if at any given point in time the heart happens to open, we fall in love. if at any given point in time the heart happens to close, the love stops. if the heart happens to hurt, we get angry, and if we stop feeling altogether, we get empty. all of these things happen because the heart goes through changes. these energy shifts and variations that take place in the heart run your life. you are so identified with them that you use words “i” and “me” when you refer to what’s going on in your heart. but in truth, you are not your heart. you are the experiencer of your heart.
- michael singer, the untethered soul | via: texturism
repeat: you are not your heart. you are the experiencer of your heart.
Recording took place at Century Sound Studios in New York City during three sessions in September and October 1968, although most participants and biographers agree that the eight songs were culled from the first and last early evening sessions. Except for John Payne, Morrison and the assembled jazz musicians had never played together before and the recordings commenced without rehearsals or lead sheets handed out.
info on the recording of one of my all time favorite albums, Astral Weeks. | via: wikipedia