Tag: London

When thinking hurts us

descartes

My title has two meanings.One is that sometimes we have to think about a painful event or a person who has hurt us.Or even some past events…I recall pain when  I was told about Hitler and Stalin

On the other hand some of us  use thinking in words as a way of blocking painful emotions.whilst this  may work for a time,it may give  a lot of trouble when we need to deal with pain.Essentially we do not wish to “know” the truth in the full sense… we deceive ourselves and maybe others too

http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/fulfillment-any-age/201110/the-essential-guide-defense-mechanisms

William Blake wrote this poem

Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine,
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
It is right it should be so;
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know,
Through the world we safely go.

IM000484.JPG

I’ve been reading Sylvia Plath recently.I see that after her husband left her she went into a frenzy of activity.She had two very young children.was often i ll with flu but she wrote all her most famous poems at this time;then she moved to London antd socialised a lot to prove she was not just a deserted wife.After this she became more, ill,there was a severe winter….then she crashed into the depths…I feel that  her frenzied writing was a way of not admitting her grief… and she got worn out and decided death was better.

Some of us who are quite cerebral are not in touch with  our bodies.We don’t feel that knife in the heart,the tears unshed,the anger that threatens… and eventually this cam lead to problems.,sometimes flu sometimes a breakdown,sometimes a broken marriage.

and also the thinking can take on a life of its own so  it keeps us awake at night… and the feelings can come out in nightmares.

So thinking can  be a curse.We all need defences at times but too much cuts us of from our own lives.

And brooding and ruminating are very damaging to the mind and soul.Thinking is not wisdom

.11257109-old-mosaic

A lovely poem that i am fond of

O sweet spontaneous

by: e.e. cummings (1894-1962)

sweet spontaneous
earth how often have
the
doting

fingers of
prurient philosophers pinched
and
poked

thee
, has the naughty thumb
of science prodded
thy

beauty, how
often have religions taken
thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and

buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive
gods
(but
true

to the incomparable
couch of death thy
rhythmic
lover

thou answerest

them only with

spring)

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The top deck of the bus

 

The bus is late and I’m
Thinking of what you said,
trying to understand, but
I’ve never met you,so
I have nothing but written words
Which,however beautiful,may not give
enough for me to truly imagine
the depths of your heart.

My legs hurt and I have a cane
But I don’t like it.I can’t accept
my own infirmity,my troubles,
my pains,my disagreements,my mistakes.
Rain falls over me and drips down the lens
in my spectacles,as if the world is weeping
the tears I can’t shed.

If I cried now,standing at the bus stop,
for all the years of pain
noone would know,they’d
think it was just
raindrops running down my cheeks.

The bus comes,but it’s half term…
The shops are too crowded,I can’t
Stand in queues…imagine how most of you
say it’s boring.Well,I’d love to do it
but I’ve decided the pain is greater
then the rewards.

The bus driver stops at a place where
the pavement has been lowered to allow
the owner of this house to drive
their car into the front garden
so they won’t need to buy
a resident’s parking permit.
It makes it a harder task to descend
from the bus and I hope he won’t
start while I’m still getting down.

In the coffee bar are exhibits from
a local museum,and I think,one day
my cane and my watch from Argos,
my shopping bag with a picture of Monet-
such vulgarity…..
they may be in a museum too…
along with my door keys
my bike lock and my spectacles
and will somebody try to conjure me up
in their imagination.
Someone who used to like Topology
Knitting,writing and holding hands with lovers
on the top deck of the bus
crossing central London without noticing
anything except their reflections in the eyes
of the other.
Light bounces to and fro.

My mind shuts down, the words
packed away in boxes,till there’s only
you and me and a few elementary particles
trying to recreate the world
with the big bang
that will end it all.

I am really surprised /pleased about the number of people reading here

Drabble

Margaret Drabble when young

When I moved from books to Philosophy I was not expecting a lot of readers but I have had far more than I thought and so I have continued again after I thought I’d stop.So as I have thought before,people do like serious reading  and thinking about thinking.

I shall try to put on more about books too.I am reading the latest Margaret Drabble this week,The pure gold baby.It seems very light reading after Heidegger and co.Which is nice..

I would like to discover an introduction to modern literary crticism as i find it hard to get into.I am unsure if it needs to be so difficult….

.

MargaretDrabbleBW75
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Doris Lessing died today

Image

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/10455589/Doris-Lessing-Obituary.html

One of the best writers ever died today.Doris Lessing had a long and intriguing life as a child in Iran and Rhodesia and an adult on England

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Trying to recreate the world

 

The Lindens of Poissy, by Claude Monet (1882).
The Lindens of Poissy, by Claude Monet (1882). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Claude Monet, photo by Nadar, 1899. Français :...
Claude Monet, photo by Nadar, 1899. Français : Claude Monet par Nadar en 1899. Türkçe: İzlenimcilik akımının öncülerinden olan Fransız ressam Claude Monet’nin, fotoğrafçı yurttaşı Nadar tarafından 1899 yılında çekilmiş fotoğrafı. 1840 ile 1926 yılları arasında yaşayan Monet, bu fotoğraf çekildiği sırada 50’li yaşlarının sonundadır. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

The bus is late and I’m

Thinking of what you said,

trying to understand, but

I’ve never met you,so

I have nothing but written words

which,however beautiful,may not give

enough for me to truly imagine

the depths of your heart.

My legs hurt and I have a cane,

but I don’t like it.I can’t accept

my own infirmity,my troubles,

my pains,my disagreements,my mistakes.

Rain falls over me and drips down the lens

in my spectacles,as if the world is weeping

the tears I can’t shed.

If I cried now,standing at the bus stop,

for all the years of pain

noone would know,they’d

think it was just

raindrops running down my cheeks.

The bus comes,but it’s half term…

The shops are too crowded,I can’t

stand in queues…imagine how most of you

say it’s boring.Well,I’d love to do it

but I’ve decided the pain is greater

then the rewards.

The bus driver stops at a place where

the pavement has been lowered to allow

the owner of this house to drive

their car into the front garden

so they won’t need to buy

a resident’s parking permit.

It makes it a harder task to descend

from the bus and I hope he won’t

start while I’m still getting down.

In the coffee bar are exhibits from

a local museum,and I think,one day

my cane and my watch from Argos,

my shopping bag with a picture of Monet–

such vulgarity…..

they may be in a museum too…

along with my door keys

my bike lock and my spectacles

and will somebody try to conjure me up

in their imagination.

Someone who used to like Topology.

knitting,writing and holding hands with lovers

on the top deck of the bus

crossing central London without noticing

anything except their reflections in the eyes

of the other.

Light bounces to and fro.

My mind shuts down, the words

packed away in boxes,till there’s only

you and me and a few elementary particles

trying to recreate the world

with the big bang

that will end it all.

 

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Lucian Freud

Detail of the Burning Bush triptych by Nicolas...
Detail of the Burning Bush triptych by Nicolas Froment, showing René and his wife Jeanne de Laval (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Moses receiving the Law
Moses receiving the Law (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
The apple it was that made man glad

http://www.ancient-hebrew.org/28_chart.html

The language your forefathers spoke
Dwells in your images.
Faces bleed with feeling.
Bodies rise out like rocks.
Your self portrait sings
Me,myself.I am.
As God spoke from the burning bush
You took the flame and ran

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Eat well on a budget plus a few thoughts on prices

Good Food: 101 Budget Dishes: Triple-tested Recipes by Jane Hornby

You can get this for 1 penny on amazon,It’s part of a series of small cookery books aimed at people who are unable to spend too much time and money in the kitchen.

I got a catalogue today from an online clothes catalogue where I have shopped before.But now I’ll be lucky to afford a scarf.The scarf is £55!Also they sell dresses which are not washable!How weird is that?

For fruit and veg most supermarkets are expensive.I find Lidl‘s good and much cheaper.The jam is also very good.We do have a market but the quality is variable there

and the queue is long too

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Funny notions

Image

Around the unborn it’s lonesome to dwell forever unrestes
As all get out  half way  up path,none arrive in heaven
She’s as beautiful as the way is wrong,I am happy to delay.
As tense as a Londoner‘s  hug  was,it was better than snuffing it on the floor.
As far as I can pee,there’s nothing but slugs
As bloody as gold,speaking metagogically

As whiff!You pong so!
As luck would grab it I hid it first
As plain as the rose on your lingerie lace
As slender as mother’s apple tart kept me..I was irresistible on the table
As the cow flies,the bull grew wings.That’s logic for you.
as time harasses me,I ask,why?
As useful as a dead baboon
As welcome as a monk at a  wife swapping party
As ye sew, so shall ye weep as I prick ye again
Too many jokes oil my path,so I tumble down again

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Maurice Saatchi talks about his wife Josephine Hart

Maurice Saatchi talks about his wife Josephine Hart

This is a very beautiful story.I only just found out the Saatchis are Jewish and were  born in Iraq.Like nearly all the Jews there they had to flee…and they’d been there 2,000 years .I knew one myself who was an economist.Josephine Hart did a lot to encourage enjoyment of poetry and she also wrote novels.The Saatchis are famous for their advertising agency….

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