Too Marvelous to Be Understood
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…the soul does not respond to iciness, but rather warmth….
When writers, for example, feel dry, dry, dry, they know that the way to become moist is to write. But if they’re locked in ice, they won’t write. There are painters who are gasping to paint, but they’re telling themselves, “Get out of here. Your work is weirdly strange and ugly.” ….
So what is the solution? Do as the duckling does. Go ahead, struggle through it. Pick up the pen already and put it to the page and stop whining. Write. Pick up the brush and be mean to yourself for a change, paint. Dancers, put on the loose chemise, tie the ribbons in your hair, at your waist, or on your ankles and tell the body to take it from there. Dance. Actress, playwright, poet, musician, or any other. Generally, just stop talking. Don’t say one more word unless you’re a singer….Do your art. Generally, a thing cannot freeze if it is moving. So move. Keep moving.
~ Clarissa Pincola Estes
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Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds
will never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.
Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.
— Mary Oliver
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Cancer is when the head takes over the territory of the heart.
— Joseph Campbell
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I agree that we do art to warm ourselves up to life, to strike a spark in the soul so we can see beauty again and love it. Our attention to the Miracle…