Advice to Myra at Twenty Nine

[~greg]

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                   Ode on a Grecian Urn

        Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
        Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,
         Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
       A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
      What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape
            Of deities or mortals, or of both,
             In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
      What men or gods are these? what maidens loth?
        What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
       What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
                             
        Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
     Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
        Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd,
          Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
   Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
        Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
        Bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
     Though winning near the goal--yet, do not grieve;
     She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
        For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
                             
         Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
       Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
              And, happy melodist, unwearied,
           For ever piping songs for ever new;
         More happy love! more happy, happy love!
          For ever warm and still to be enjoy'd,
           For ever panting, and for ever young;
          All breathing human passion far above,
      That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
        A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
                             
          Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
        To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
       Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
      And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
         What little town by river or sea shore,
         Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
         Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
        And, little town, thy streets for evermore
          Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
         Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
                             
         O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
          Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
        With forest branches and the trodden weed;
      Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
             As doth eternity: Cold pastoral!
        When old age shall this generation waste,
         Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
     Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
       'Beauty is truth, truth beauty'--that is all
        Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
  
  

[ania]

Continued...

<*Ahem*>

Loving another and being loved by them
requires us to engage in the ultimate risk..

that of being rejected.

it's when you know you wont be rejected yet you still fear something...else... and you push away.

[Vince]

it's when you know you wont be rejected yet you still fear something...else... and you push away.

Do you let yourself open or remain protected?

Once the heart is open
the planting of the seed can then be nourished
love is sufficient unto love
meaning, there is no guarantee that it will last forever
only that while it lasts
it makes forever possible.

Therein arises risk.
Only you can make that decision.

Vincent.

[ania]

Only you can make that decision.

Vincent.

yes and it doesnt go away, the knowing you made the wrong one. hindsight is an asshole.

[Vince]

Separation of the beloved from love brings suffering
separation of man from woman brings suffering
as does separation of human from divine
we have many questions
we have too few answers.

There is life
there is love

there are losses of both only so we can measure our gains.

You have your life in front of you
what are you going to do with it.

[ania]

You have your life in front of you
what are you going to do with it.

im working on the answer

[lizzytysh]

Vincent ~


reading your words...

a pleasure

rare


*************************


Ania ~


So many roads not taken...

we can only know

those we do.


My heart...

is with you.


*************************


Love,
Elizabeth

[ania]

My heart...

is with you.

Love,
Elizabeth

[lizzytysh]

Dear Ania ~




Love,
Elizabeth

[ania]

elizabeth, have you seen 'me and you and everyone we know' ? its a beautiful film, about similar themes, fear and love and the human condition and frailty. advice for myra at twenty nine came as a result of finding an art project website by the director of the film... http://www.learningtoloveyoumore.com/ you should have a look ... i think this was assignment no.53

[lizzytysh]

Hi Ania ~

No, I haven't, but the title is fairly inclusive, isn't it ? I'll look at the link and see about renting the film. Thank you for making me aware of it .

No. 53 brought lovely results .


Love,
Lizzy

[lizzytysh]

WoW ~ What a GREAT SITE !!!

Wonderful, introductory photo ~ super assignments! It's going into my favourites, and into hard copy [if possible] when I get to a printer.

I love things like that! Now for the film...

Thanks!


< * On #53 ~ I've been giving myself advice for years ~ trouble is I can't get myself to listen * >



Love,
Lizzy

[ania]

WoW ~ What a GREAT SITE !!!


I love things like that! Now for the film...

Thanks!

Love,
Lizzy

youll love it

[lizzytysh]

Yes ~ I can tell... what a selection of assignments, and have only seen a few.

The film ~ well, I can tell from the little you've said on that .

Good timing with my edit and your post . "Trouble" used to be "problem" in its pre-edited life. [Just can't ever leave well enough alone ]

[Martine]

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