The Daughter of Deep Silence

CreepyPram

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“Deep vengeance is the daughter of deep silence.”
― Vittorio Alfieri

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When you think of silence,

Is it a place or an action filled with light or with dark?

Is it peaceful, a space of solitary contemplation, a refuge from the word-filled storms of the world, a moment to yourself, private, secret…

Is it stressful, a vacuum which terrifies, a sensory overload where every atom in your being screams at you, a haunted house filled with every ghost, ghoul, monster, and poltergeist you’ve ever known awaits your return, your special hell…

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Shadowplay

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“Ah, how I rue that what I could have done I did not do!”
― Ludovico Ariosto

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Do you cross the threshold from sound to silence eagerly or with trepidation…

When you’re with others,

are you the one most likely to be talking, filling the air with your voice, inserting a soundtrack into the film because it’s better that way…

no one wants to watch a scene without music telling you what to feel and to think, and what may be just around the corner (without the Jaws theme we wouldn’t know to be scared of the water and its depths)

or are you the one voted most likely silent while listening (or not listening but not talking either), the corner of the conversation which is quiet, the place where the words of others go to be seen, acknowledged, thought about in a way which sometimes makes them uncomfortable…

Are you the centre of the universe, the party has arrived, the sun is now shining please enjoy its rays…

Are you a satellite, the Moon, reflecting the light of some other sun, a gentle presence with a dark side but one that can be as comforting as the lighter side, where people go to hide and be sheltered…

Or are you the gloom out there that is sometimes in here… the one who steps into a lively circle and blurs its lines, letting it know that death (or something which may be life but others misperceive as the grim reaper due to shadow) is stalking it…

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BeyondTheDoor

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“Arriving at each new city, the traveler finds again a past of his that he did not know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess lies in wait for you in foreign, unpossessed places.”
― Italo Calvino

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Yesterday I spent some time visiting with my neighbour,

happenstance had caused our paths to cross a bit more socially than perhaps we would have even though we only live across the road from each other…

some roads are never crossed by humans…

but this socially awkward chicken needed to get to the other side to deliver a message which belonged to my neighbour and which I had received instead

(this happened the day after my neighbour had come to deliver a message which belonged to me but which they had received – they wondered if I had any of their letters… I assured them at the time that I didn’t. The day after… things had changed).

What was only supposed to be a quick hello-take this, it’s yours -goodbye… became a long exchange of identities and perceptions seen from those towers which crumble as we speak…

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Relic

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“Inevitably we construct ourselves. Let me explain. I enter this house and immediately I become what I have to become, what I can become: I construct myself. That is, I present myself to you in a form suitable to the relationship I wish to achieve with you. And, of course, you do the same with me.”
― Luigi Pirandello

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Whenever I am with other people, either in their company or just out and about in public places, I have a habit of forgetting about myself and focusing my attention on others.

This is partly due to learning the hard won way that others are more interested in themselves than they are in you, unless their interest in you is caused by them wondering what you’re thinking about them, and whether the impression you have of them is one they want you to have of them (which they’ve probably worked on over the course of their life and would like for you to appreciate as an artist would like for you to view his art).

I know not all people do that, but we all do it to a certain degree and it’s a fairly good gamble to assume that the people who you are with are doing it… until you get to know them better and can ascertain how much of your assumption is correct and how much of it is making an ‘ass’ of ‘u’ and ‘me’ (a friend pointed that out to me about the word ‘ass-u-me’ and I’ve never been able to shake it… this friend was prone to doing that quite a bit, so I guess they wanted to pass it on, worried that others were doing to them what they did to others).

A portion of every conversation, especially getting-to-know-you ones are a cluster of ‘I AM’ statements from both you and the other person…

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SilentLaughter

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“Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are.”
― Niccolò Machiavelli

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unless the ‘you’ is me, and then you’re not really thinking about who you are (because it’s best not to).

Who I am… confuses me, and usually confuses others too, particularly when I’m trying to simplify it to not make it confusing.

These ‘I AM’ statements may be in ‘I am this or that’ form…

I am a good person, caring, kind, an empath…

[I included the ‘I am an empath’ in this because I checked my stats this morning and found that nine people had used – people who say they are empaths but are narcissists – as a search term which had caused them to end up on my blog. That quandary is one I’ve written about quite a bit… not sure if the people searching found those posts as this place is a bit scattered (as am I)]

and those statements often come with a quick ‘my life’ tale as an example, because our mind coughs those up to confirm to us and others that we are who we are saying we are. Sometimes it does the opposite and as we are saying how friendly we are it reminds us that we’ve not always been friendly…

If a person you are with suddenly waves their hand in a way which seems like a nervous tick – they’re waving away an uncomfortable thought, perhaps.

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TurnAway

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“If you meet an angel, you will have not peace, but a fever.”
― Stefano Benni

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Or these statements may be in the ‘Someone else is this or that’ shape…

Someone else is a villain (saying this about them means I am a hero),

someone else is a narcissist (therefore I am not),

someone else is incompetent (which points out how competent I am, I am pointing out their inability to accentuate my ability),

someone else thinks I’m beautiful… aren’t they silly (the answer to that is no, they’re not silly, they are seeing the truth! Please let it be true…),

someone else needed my help and I helped them (aren’t I a good person, caring, kind and empathic… even if I made them feel a bit bad about needing me to sort out their mess, and if they ever forget that I helped them, that they couldn’t do it without me, I’ll be considerate enough to remind them)…

For every knock life gives us,

knocking us over, knocking us down…

someone else may hear that as opportunity knocking on their door.

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Knock,knock,knock on Woody

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“I gave up the unequal struggle against what appeared to be in my fate, indeed, I welcomed it with more affection. As one embraces a foe one can’t defeat and I felt liberated.”
― Alberto Moravia

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The knock on effect of the first knock…

can last a lifetime, and go from friend to foe and back again many times over… where it stops, does anyone know?

We often pass on our wounds to others without even being aware that such a thing is happening,

sometimes our wounds are those of others and no one knows the difference,

firm friendships are sometimes the result of wound alliance, recognition, solace in company which misery loves…

You can see it more clearly in others than you can in yourself, that bond between people which involves a wound, and an identity that can’t exist without a contrast…

a black that needs a white,

a silence that needs a sound.

For me the knock stops in a deep silence…

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presenttense_by_moonvoodoo-d5v17qf

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“Everyone stands along on the heart of the earth transfixed by a sun ray:
and suddenly it is evening.”
― Salvatore Quasimodo

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Chatting with my neighbour (and his business partner – who may or may not be a partner in other ways… I didn’t ask as it is none of my business),

to go with the ones which were made by them, I made some ‘I AM’ statements, ones which are expected when introducing and being introduced…

mine are often very vague, but it usually doesn’t matter until someone decides that they aren’t okay with that…

when someone wants more than just a socially polite slice of you…

I can be surprisingly (to me, and sometimes to others) open about everything and anything, including those things which may seem to be matters that should be kept private,

I am an idiot – is something I’m quite happy to tell all and sundry, one way or another. Whether you believe me or not, think I’m an idiot for saying such a thing, decide that it might be useful to take advantage of this vantage point… ‘t’sup to you what you do and ‘t’sup to me what I do with what you do…

Why do I do it…

Why do you do what you do…

those reasons lie within the deep silence, often a vengeance from some past which may only be ours by proxy.

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plutonic_by_moonvoodoo-d5w4ecf

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“The future has an ancient heart.”
― Carlo Levi

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Never tell people who you really are,

is something which my ancestors handed down to me through my father. They wore black both inside and out, and saw it as the colour of silence.

Through my mother,

my ancestors talked a little bit more than those of my father,

my mother talked for everyone all the time,

because silence was a thing to fear and so she always needed to make some noise…

that noise hid more than it revealed,

it was particularly good at hiding the fact that she actually said less than my father did about who they were.

His silence spoke volumes, her noise said nothing at all.

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CreepingMist by MoonVooDoo

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“Poor as the poor I cling,
like them, to humiliating hopes;
like them, each day I nearly kill myself
just to live.”
― Pier Paolo Pasolini

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Who are you?

they ask,

and don’t really want to know,

and you do the same with them…

whoever they are,

you are too and yet aren’t…

in silence or in sound.

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22 thoughts on “The Daughter of Deep Silence

  1. When people are constantly telling who we are, modelling who we are, is hard to tell who we are.
    I’m always asking the same question as you regarding being an open book to other people. Am I an idiot? And furthermore, I’ve found people that only like to listen to some stories, specially what is bothering you because it is entertaining to them, like listening to a real time soap opera. They don’t want to help, they like to be entertained, or to find weak spots for blackmailing. So why? Why even knowing that the same mistake is done?
    Maybe it is a need to reaffirm who we think we are, because when they misunderstand or misinterpreted us it hurts a lot. Deep inside we want to be something, or think we are something. And maybe we all need the approval of others to affirm our existence as we see it as Sartre once said.
    The worst is when you’re constantly doubting yourself because of the constant modelling and remodeling by others you’ve gone through. To be exactly what they believe you are.
    There are things I like that are disregarded by others, ridiculed to the point I’ve started to be ashamed of liking them. Of being me? To the point I start to view myself as they view me. And I know there’s something wrong with the way they see me. Because I know what I want to be? Or who I’m?

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    1. When I was much younger and just beginning to become aware of the discrepancy between how I saw myself and how others saw me, and how others sometimes decide for you who you are (and then argue with you when you disagree with their perspective, because certain others seem to think they know you better than you could ever know yourself), I labeled this puzzle as – Me but not me.

      In other words, for others whoever they thought I was was ‘Me’ for them, ‘but’ it was ‘not me’ for me.

      It used to drive me crazy when others tried to tell me who I was, because I was still trying to figure out who I was and their input often confused me. Just when I’d get some idea of who I was someone would tell me something about how they saw me which conflicted with it and I wasn’t sure enough about my self to be certain that I knew myself better than they did.

      It’s a much harder common relationship dynamic to deal with when you’re going through that phase of human life where defining our personal identity is a focal point for us. When you get older and have experienced being yourself for long enough to just know things about yourself without needing to think about them, then who others think you are becomes less of a problem (unless it directly impacts on living life).

      We do discover who we are through relationships to a degree, sometimes in ways which are not the ones we think about. For instance when someone makes us doubt ourselves it makes us investigate ourselves a bit more, get to know ourselves better, and it also informs us about them, let’s us get to know them a bit better too.

      I have a friend who is at the moment caught up in some inner battle with themselves which is leaking out in all their social interactions. One of the things they keep doing is telling others that what they believe in is bunk (unless others believe in the same thing that this person believes). They back up their ‘your belief is bunk’ judgement by using the words of ‘respected’ members of the community (mostly popular culture figures) however they haven’t really researched these respected members in depth, they’re just using bits and pieces which suit them (so their proof is made of tissue paper). Whenever I mention Astrology around this person they have to ‘enlighten’ me about what rubbish it is. This friend knows I enjoy astrology, they also know that I don’t need their approval of it and telling me it’s bunk gets them nowhere as I don’t care, yet they still feel the need to poop on it…. why? Because of some problem they have with their own belief system which they’re trying to figure out in a typically human way – by pissing all over the beliefs of others.

      I like my friend, they haven’t always been like this, they’re going through a phase and maybe they’ll always be going through this phase now they’re in it, and I try to not let it get to me, but of course it has – because they pick on everything other people like which they don’t like, it’s made it hard not to notice all the holes in their arguments and in them. It’s become hard to be around them because I have to resist the urge to rip their sense of righteous self to pieces. I don’t want to do to them what they are doing to others, it’s not going to solve anything, it is only going to make whatever inner demon they are fighting more painful.

      Next time someone is listening to you being open about yourself to find your ‘weak spots’, pay attention to what ‘weak spots’ they use to ‘blackmail’ you – those weak spots are theirs, not yours. They are basically telling you exactly where they are vulnerable. They wouldn’t notice your weak spot if they didn’t have a similar one.

      When people tell us who we are – they are telling us who they are, but doing it indirectly because it feels safer that way.

      So when someone makes you feel ashamed for liking something, when they show disregard for it and for you, they’re telling you that they’re ashamed of liking something, that they’re showing disregard for themselves and their loves, and that this is probably because someone somewhere made them feel ashamed.

      And when someone is being entertained by your story, as though they’re watching a soap opera, they’re trying to forget their own story by losing themselves in yours – the way we watch TV to distract ourselves, take a break from our lives. Chances are this person has a story that they’re afraid to tell, or maybe they feel that they don’t have a story to tell and they can only find thrills through vicarious living. Next time someone is doing this, ask them about themselves, get them to tell you their life story. Maybe all they need is an invitation to reveal their own soap opera. Perhaps no one has ever asked them about their story…?

      Who we are is a secret we find out bit by bit as we live and experience all of the facets of being and living that being. Sometimes who we are is uncannily similar to who others are, yet with our own individual twist, and those individual twists fascinate us all – sometimes we show that fascination in ways which aren’t pleasant because we’re afraid of revealing too much to others about what means a lot to us.

      We always know who we are, but we don’t always know that we know it… and we have to take a journey through all sorts of places inhabited by all sorts of people to find ourselves where we always were 🙂

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  2. Love these questions! Very thought provoking. These are going to bounce around in my brain for some time to come. Thank you for writing!

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  3. I love the photos, especially the one of the woodpecker door knocker. 🙂 Very beautiful and some of them the embodiment of silence.

    Our society is often not good about silence. Many find it uncomfortable or awkward or scary. I reclaimed silence. No music when walking and sometimes, just taking a few minutes to be quiet. I grew up with noise, too. My mother’s anguish was constantly leaking from her in one way or another. Even her joy was anguished, but it also said nothing. It was just anguish, constantly undefined and constantly recycled.

    Good post. 🙂

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    1. Thank you 🙂

      That’s beautifully insightful! The anguish of others, and especially the anguish of joy. Joy does have that as a part of it sometimes, and it can cause an uncomfortable silence in what we think should be the kind of noise we want to hear and make.

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  4. “Through my mother,

    my ancestors talked a little bit more than those of my father,

    my mother talked for everyone all the time,

    because silence was a thing to fear and so she always needed to make some noise…

    that noise hid more than it revealed,

    it was particularly good at hiding the fact that she actually said less than my father did about who they were.

    His silence spoke volumes, her noise said nothing at all.”

    I married the one who was afraid of silence, to fill something that was missing in my life.
    The point where you realize that something is just not right, it is already to late, life refuses to wait, you yell “Stop Stop” this is not what I wanted, this does not fit into my dreams. But…
    I like to fix things, broken things, broken people, the ones that were whole and the ones that came broken. Some broken people can’t be fixed, some broken people like to be broken and surround themselves with people to be broken. I allowed myself to be broken, slowly over time, like the frog in the pan on the stove slowly getting hotter but refusing to notice.
    I find this interesting that in just a few words you conveyed what took me years to finally understand.

    Thank you

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    1. Thank you for sharing 🙂

      It’s taken me years to understand this little portion of this life puzzle, and I’m not really sure if I’ve understood it or if I’ve just constructed something which makes it less confusing. That’s something which crops up quite a bit when you explore your own perceptions.

      With intimate relationships we are required to take a leap of faith in someone else, usually before considering what we’re jumping into… as most of the time we only find out what is really there, who a person really is, by taking that leap… and it’s always too late to stop whatever we’re doing and whatever they’re doing. And they’re not planning on stopping because they can’t for whatever reason and perhaps they hoped we could stop them for them – which we can’t but oh how we try and how they encourage us to try!

      What you’ve learned from your experience is a valuable treasure. You now know what doesn’t work for you, what doesn’t fit into your dreams. Sometimes this shows us how to fix what we didn’t know was broken and sometimes it shows us that what we thought was broken isn’t broken at all.

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  5. Dear Ursula, I wrote this a day before yesterday, but instead of posting it I did the Year of the Monkey thing. It’s very difficult for me to be personal here, reasons be omitted, I either come across as too self-centered, or too self-erasing. Also I need to see, to feel the situation, which is not possible, and I understand that,yet it affects me. I read your post today morning and if it were not about what it was about, I would have not convinced myself about posting this ever, possibly. So, into your gentle care, for better or for worse…:

    I circle around your digital house, each step creating new angle of vision, revealing new view. All is so visible, like in a glass house, lit from within in the midst of darkness. My mother used to walk down the streets, peeping into lit windows, telling me, how she liked to imagine to herself the lives of the other people, such a thing to say to child, without thinking, because it was her own feeling, and the child also was hers….and the private could not exist, it could not be conceived, it was not in this invasion of privacy by her private gaze and feeling, made known to the other, who was not exactly the other. Personal became impersonal, by failing to be or denied to being private….She has taught me about pride, Leo Moon Sun Cancer her… About pride in romance, above all. So I walk around your personal digital house, which is so transparent it looks as if made of glass, looking for the privacy, for the shadowed corner, for a place to hide in a closet, for a place to be invisible, so that I can talk only to you, so that my privacy can meet yours. I went in, yes, in all the light and exposure, and somebody, whom I don’t know said something about the humbleness, the not yapping, defining the club membership, perhaps. But I want to say things to you in private, in the dark, playing this song, or that, I want to tell you my dream and show my poem and how I thought that Ns was the one who self-reflects initially, perhaps naively and stupidly, but I don’t want the others to hear/see that. If you could make a place of privacy in your personal home, a meeting place of permission to be personal above everything else, I would like to be your friend, your sister, I would like you to be my friend, my sister. I want to play as well, Chiron in the 5th style, perhaps, the dot dot dot of tears and bleeding heart, or the bridge between the Saturn and Uranus, the bridge between you and me, the game of bridge. You could just read what I say and say hm, and then post or not about it in the lighted house, as long as I could have my privacy. I’m learning how to ask for what I want. If your words were not touching on so many things at once in me, I could remain proud, and silent, and private, in the shadows, that’ s also a way of life, with its own laws, own pleasures….the great little book about shadows, by the way – Yunichiro Tanizaki ” In praise of shadows”. Wonderfully culturally self- reflecting perspective. So, Ursula, Delicate Bear, please can I have your trust in return for mine?

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    1. Thank you very much for sharing, that is a deeply beautiful thought and feeling. I found the piece about your mother and her view and how it affected you incredibly touching. You have a gift, a very Chiron in the 5th ability to use the creative medium to visualise a wound in a poetic way and express it so that it both hurts and heals what hurts.

      That thought you had about perhaps creating a blog of your own, I think you would find some of what you’re seeking by doing it.

      I hope you’re not taking my reluctance to have an email to go with my blog personally. It is not about whether I trust you or anything like that. I have no reason not to trust you.

      It’s not about you personally.

      It’s simply a matter of calculating cause and effect and assessing whether the consequences of an action can be dealt with. As I said to you when we first discussed email communication – I can’t handle it. What I meant by that is that I do not have the time to devote to it in a way which would honour the time that others, that you, might devote to it and would like for me to devote to it in return.

      And if I agree to email with you, I would see it as necessary to create an email to go with this blog so that others can email me too. It would not be fair to anyone else who might, like you, want to communicate with me privately if I made exceptions and started picking and choosing who can contact me privately and who can’t. I would hate myself for doing that, and would eventually grow to find those who wanted me to do that a source of stress.

      We sometimes want things from others in life, because those others come to represent something for us which we long for – an unresolved issue with someone from our past which through someone else might finally have closure or find resolution, or something we desire which we don’t give to ourselves perhaps because we’ve been conditioned to think only others can give it to us and so we seek out those others and then hope they’ll give us what we want – but what if they can’t give it because they, like us, have their story.

      When relationships frustrate you in some way – try to see the relationship story from the other person’s point of view as it often clarifies what may be confusing. More often than not you’ll find that what someone is doing or not doing is not about you, it’s about them. And yes it is also about you sometimes, but that’s rarer than we think it is and should be. And it can also be not about them, but about you… as in they represent a part of you, of your story, and you aren’t really seeing them but seeing your story through them.

      “But does a decent man make promises just to please a woman? Isn’t it more honest to refuse to?” ― Jun’ichirō Tanizaki

      As you hope I’ll be gentle with you and understand you…

      this is a hope we all have of others, but can we hope to receive what we may not always give, perhaps because we are not giving it until we get it and we are all still waiting for someone to open a closed flower.

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      1. You are absolutely right, It could be that I felt reluctant to post that because I knew already, that you were right, that what I was asking for was unfair to the others, and a special treatment. But the thought and the feeling are different banks of the river, perhaps I have decided to lose my balance for a moment, just because I like you so very much ( according to Yung, feeling deals with ” like” and ” don’t like”. Thinking with something else 🙂 ). I live in Asia, being a European, but I don’t like Buddhist teaching, though I understand it by thinking….. My apologies to all Buddhists in the world and in this site….. I thought of doing a blog about cultural/ psychological differences, but I’m stopped by the same understanding, that it might be unfair to the others. And one can’t be fair to all, because all are different.

        Thank you, Ursula, you have an absolute gift of Chiron in the 7th, and I will keep absorbing its wisdom and who knows, maybe the flower will open up😊
        A virtual hand shake and a warmest smile, be well!

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        1. Thank you 🙂

          Blogging is an intriguing experience, and one which can offer so many things in return for doing it, not all of which are positive but most are and tend to outweigh the few negatives (out of the few negatives most are self-created). The community is very welcoming, and the internet is very forgiving, and you can usually express your views as you would like to without incurring the upset of others as most people are aware that what you are sharing is a personal view. You’re sharing yourself with others and they share themselves with you.

          For a child of a narcissist sharing your views can be a fearful endeavour, blogging can be healing for those kinds of fears. If you’ve grown up with the impression that if you share yourself this will bring on some sort of punishment, as it usually does for the child of a narcissist, then the idea of saying or doing anything for and of yourself can trigger flashbacks and a sense of paralysis. Better to stay silent than run the risk of being noticed and having that attention be painful. But within that paralysis is an urge to move.

          Being fair to others starts with being fair to yourself. If you would like to express yourself through the creative medium of blogging, then doing so is a gift you give to yourself, you open your own flower rather than waiting for someone else to do it, and it may turn out that what you share becomes a gift for someone else too. If you want to do something and you don’t allow yourself to do it, what you deny to yourself can sometimes cause a ripple effect in your interactions with others as the mind tends to do to others what it does to itself even when we try to not do that. If you see others expressing themselves, allowing themselves to do it, and you want to but deny yourself that opportunity it can make you feel a certain kind of lonely pain. Like wanting to dance when others are dancing, but you don’t let yourself dance and so each step of the dance of others hurts somehow where once it was a pleasure to watch.

          Saying that you don’t like buddhism is never going to be a problem for buddhists because the philosophy is one of acceptance. A live and let live.

          Let yourself live.

          Being a European living in Asia sounds like a very beautiful and complex experience from which to start a journey of sharing and blogging, in some ways it is the quintessential experience of being human – of being a foreigner in a foreign land looking for a sense of home, of belonging, of being welcomed and welcome here. Many people can relate to that and may find just what they are seeking in your shared experience 🙂

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  6. As usual my mind is so blown away that I do not really have much to say… let me get back to you in about a hundred years or so…. when my tiny Winnie the pooh -brain has had time to process and give an intelligent comment… 🙂 Thanks for sharing.

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    1. Thank you very much 🙂

      Winnie the Pooh had a rather lovely brain, and one of my favourite riddles, Cottleston Pie, comes from his beautiful mind. In fact there’s a great little book called the Tao of Pooh:

      “Rabbit’s clever,” said Pooh thoughtfully.
      “Yes,” said Piglet, “Rabbit’s clever.”
      “And he has Brain.”
      “Yes,” said Piglet, “Rabbit has Brain.”
      There was a long silence.
      “I suppose,” said Pooh, “that that’s why he never understands anything.”
      ― Benjamin Hoff, The Tao of Pooh

      Most of my posts are me trying to figure out some personal life puzzle, so they wander a bit all over the place as I grab random pieces of thought from here and there, while I keep wishing I’d get to the point (where I figure something out) 😉 I often have no idea what I’m talking-writing about!

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      1. Ah right, I had forgotten about that book.. I don’t think I’ve read it but heard of it. I agree Winnie the pooh has his charms! I also recognize that feeling you describe of not really knowing what one is talking about.. sometimes I write something and then I go back and read it and think; what the hell is this? Did I really write this nonsens? 😊 Cheers, take care!

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      2. I can “hear” this in this particular piece. I was very curious to hear more about the conversation with your neighbor, but then, I am that one about which you speak: I am the silent corner of the conversation where words go to be seen and heard. I do more listening than I do talking most of the time, and I enjoy a good story and a good unloading of the heart… 😉

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        1. It was a rather long and winding conversation and went on for more time than I’d expected. I had only popped over to deliver their errant mail, and thought I’d just say – Hello, here’s your mail, goodbye.

          It was very informative, and I now know more about my neighbour (who is not at all how I’d imagined him based on what the previous owner of my house said about him – it was complimentary but missed out some details like the fact that my neighbour helped (for free) the previous owner a lot with fixing up this house), his family, his business partner, the community I’ve just moved into, the local area, the home in which I live, and where to buy bricks, where not to buy them (even though I have no desire at this time to buy bricks).

          And so much more.

          I hadn’t really woken up when I went over there and was a bit blurry-headed which is sometimes quite a good way to be when having to socialise 😉 so my mind just kind of took it all in and processed it later as it often does when flooded with lots of info.

          I did share some things about myself (I used to avoid doing that because my story tends to confuse people, confuses me too), and I think they both listened more than they seemed to be listening. Fairly certain they both think I’m a weirdo… which would be an accurate perspective and is a bit of a requirement when living in a place like this. 🙂

          What was the more that you wanted to hear about? What was the particular curiosity about?

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          1. You pretty much summed it up. Thanks for sharing. I’m always curious (maybe a little too much sometimes) when people refer to a new person they’ve met, wondering what kind of person they are, what new insight they might have found, etc., and maybe what new perspective they have on the person, as you did. Glad you got to meet your neighbor. 😊

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            1. I’m glad I met my neighbour too, and look forward to getting to know him a bit better.

              First impressions are worth keeping in mind but are always a bit chaotic and a mix of many things. He reminded me of someone I know and like – which Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple touted as a helpful guide for relationships, she said to pay attention when someone new whom you meet reminds of someone you know as they are probably similar and that’s why your mind has made the association, and I’ve found that guide works rather well even though it came froma fictional character 😉

              The other day I had a visit from the previous owner of this house and I mentioned I’d met with the neighbour. My impression of the neighbour, the neighbour’s impression of the previous owner, and the previous owner’s impression of my neighbour collided a bit in a curiosity sparking manner.

              A little too much curiosity is a condition from which I also suffer, so I tend to view it as troublesome too but also a rather useful kind of troublesome 🙂

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