Chebel

Diary

May 4, 2009 · 2 Comments

Is it possible to ever feel it again?

“At its best? It feels like joy. Like standing in the presence of God and knowing you are loved without reservation. It feels the way you haven’t felt since you were a small child, absolutely alive, absolutely in the moment, able to feel and experience and share with others without fear or hesitation. It is the most perfect moment of the most perfect day of your life, when trouble was nothing but a memory and the possibilities rolled on forever. It is the achievement of the inner peace the religions try to sell but rarely deliver.”

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Lesson to be learned

May 4, 2009 · 1 Comment

And you should not let yourself be confused in your solitude by the fact that there is something in you that wants to move out of it. This very wish, if you use it calmly and prudently and like a tool, will help you spread out your solitude over a great distance. Most people have (with the help of conventions) turned their solutions toward what is easy and toward the easiest side of the easy; but it is clear that we must trust in what is difficult; everything alive trusts in it, everything in Nature grows and defends itself any way it can and is spontaneously itself, tries to be itself at all costs and against all opposition. We know little, but that we must trust in what is difficult is a certainty that will never abandon us; it is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be one more reason for us to do it.

It is also good to love: because love is difficult. For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation. That is why young people, who are beginners in everything, are not yet capable of love: it is something they must learn. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered around their solitary, anxious, upward-beating heart, they must learn to love. But learning-time is always a long, secluded time, and therefore loving, for a long time ahead and far on into life, is solitude, a heightened and deepened kind of aloneness for the person who loves. Loving does not at first mean merging, surrendering, and uniting with another person (for what would a union be of two people who are unclarified, unfinished, and still incoherent?), it is a high inducement for the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become a world, to become a world in himself for the sake of another person; it is a great, demanding claim on him, something that chooses him and calls him to vast distances.

(…)

… someday there will be girls and women whose name will no longer mean the mere opposite of the male, but something in itself, something that makes one think not of any complement and limit, but only of life and reality: the female human being.

This advance (at first very much against the will of the outdistanced men) will transform the love experience, which is now filled with error, will change it from the ground up, and reshape it into a relationship that is meant to be between one human being and another, no longer one that flows from man to woman. And this more human love (which will fulfill itself with infinite consideration and gentleness, and kindness and clarity in binding and releasing) will resemble what we are now preparing painfully and with great struggle; the love that consists in this: that two solitudes protect and border and greet each other.

And one more thing: don’t think that the great love which was once granted to you, when you were a boy, has been lost; how can you know whether vast and generous wishes didn’t ripen in you at that time, and purposes by which you are still living today? I believe that that love remains so strong and intense in your memory because it was your first deep aloneness and the first inner work that you did on your life.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

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April 30, 2009 · 2 Comments

million-copy1

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Let It Die

April 29, 2009 · Leave a Comment

Let it die and get out of my mind, we don’t see eye to eye or hear ear to ear. Don’t you wish that we could forget that kiss? And see this for what it is: that we’re not in love.

The saddest part of a broken heart isn’t the ending so much as the start.

It was hard to tell just how I felt to not recognize myself. I started to fade away and, after all, it won’t take long to fall in love: now I know what I don’t want, I learned that with you.

The saddest part of a broken heart isn’t the ending so much as the start.

The tragedy starts from the very first spark: losing your mind for the sake of your heart. The saddest part of a broken heart isn’t the ending so much as the start.

- Feist

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This is when we say goodbye

April 29, 2009 · 1 Comment

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needle in the hay

April 27, 2009 · Leave a Comment

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April 26, 2009 · 1 Comment

Madox: I have to teach myself not to read too much into everything. It comes from too long having to read so much into hardly anything at all.

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Pág. 127

April 26, 2009 · 1 Comment

“Oh, você”, dizia Bessie. “Você é apenas um sátiro gasto. Não sabe o significado da paixão. Quando tem uma ereção, pensa que está apaixonado.”
“Muito bem, talvez isso não seja paixão… mas não se pode ficar apaixonado sem ter uma ereção, não é verdade?”

-Trópico de Câncer, Henry Miller

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April 25, 2009 · 1 Comment

death

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April 24, 2009 · 2 Comments

realove21

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