Source: GreenLights by Mathew McConaughey
Time alone simplifies the heart.
Memory catches up.
Opinions form.
We meet truth again.
And it teaches us.
Landing on stable feet between our reaching out and retreat.
Letting us know we are not lonely in our state. Just alone.
Because our unconscious mind now has room to reveal itself, we see it again.
It dreams, perceives and thinks in pictures which we now can observe.
In this solitude we can then begin to think in pictures and actualize what we see.
Our Souls become anonymous again and we realize we are stuck with the one person we can never be rid of – ourselves.
The Socratic dialogue can be ugly, painful, lonesome, hard, guilt-ridden, a nightmare vicious enough to need a mouth guard not to gnaw our fangs into knubs while we sweat feverish panic.
We are forced to confront ourselves.
And this is good!
We more than deserve this suffrage. We’ve earned it.
An honest man’s pillow is his peace of mind. (John Mellencamp). And no matter who’s in our bed each night, we sleep with ourselves. We either forgive or get sick and tired of it. Herein, lies the evolution.
Now with nowhere to run and forced to deal with ourselves, our ugly every day suppressions break out of the zoo and monkey around.
Where we find ourself in the ring with him deciding: No more or let it slide.
Whatever the verdict, we grow. It’s us and us. Our always and only company. We tend to ourselves and get in our good graces again.
Then we return to civilization once again to better tend to our tendencies.
Why?
Because we took a walkabout (pause, refuge)
Honourable mention You Tube comment: Admittedly I’m pretty drunk, but this song is almost spiritual to me. We all go through the same types of shit in life, we’re all human after all, but we’re all riding until the the end of the line. “I’m just glad to be here, happy to be alive.”
A STATIONARY PEOPLE (Source, http://www.travelingwilburys.com/history)
By Hugh Jampton
The original Wilburys were a stationary people who, realizing that their civilization could not stand still forever, began to go for short walks — not the “traveling”, as we now know it, but certainly as far as the corner and back. They must have taken to motion, in much the same way as penguins were at that time taking to ledges, for the next we hear of them they were going out for the day (often taking lunch or a picnic). Later, we don’t as yet know how much later, some intrepid Wilburys began to go away for the weekend, leaving late Friday and coming back Sunday. It was they who evolved simple rhythmic forms to describe their adventures.
A remarkable sophisticated musical culture developed, considering there were no managers or agents, and the further the Wilburys traveled the more adventurous their music became, and the more it was revered by the elders of the tribe who believed it had the power to stave off madness, turn brunettes into blondes and increase the size of their ears.
As the Wilburys began to go further and further in their search for musical inspiration they found themselves the object of interest among many less developed species — nightclub owners, tour operators and recording executives. To the Wilburys, who had only just learnt to cope with wives, roadies and drummers, it was a blow from which many of them never recovered.
A tiny handful survived — the last of the Traveling Wilburys — and the songs gathered here represent the popular laments, the epic and heroic tales, which characterize the apotheosis of the elusive Wilbury sound. The message of the music travels, as indeed they traveled and as I myself must now travel for further treatment. Good listening, good night and let thy Wilbury be done . . .
Hugh Jampton, E.F. Norti-Bitz Reader in Applied Jacket, University of Krakatoa (East of Java)
shonnako 