tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25624602.post4611148160658414893..comments2024-03-15T00:12:57.489-07:00Comments on Covenant Zone: Learning How To Grow Oldtruepeershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16401984575637492845noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25624602.post-14606626520451913772008-07-07T20:37:00.000-07:002008-07-07T20:37:00.000-07:00"People who survive have stories to tell..."That's...<I>"People who survive have stories to tell..."</I><BR/><BR/>That's a very fitting way of putting it, Eowyn, I like that. She does choose to survive: it is clearly a choice, a choice committed to, followed up on, and consequently achieved. <BR/>(and thank you very much for the compliment..! It's intimidating as all heck to write alongside Dag and Truepeers, so I will take much encouragement from your words of appreciation)<BR/><BR/>Walker, I would like to echo much of what Dag said. Sometimes a meeting, not just from weeks ago, but from years ago, will trigger some insight about the one you're undergoing at the moment, as one might discover that a triangle is really a pyramid... suddenly there's more than meets the eye. <BR/><BR/>For me it's usually some ever-so-small detail that shifts my perspective entirely, not the crashing of cymbals but more like the tingling of a little bell, like the sound a microwave makes when the meal is finally cooked. Then as you look, you suddenly see, finally perceiving what it was that had been incubating there for all that time. <BR/><BR/>From listening to, talking with, and reading Dag and Truepeers over the last two years, I've definitely come to realize how my getting smarter involves me also "getting dumber", in the sense that we discover through adding to our knowledge, how much empty room there was upstairs for us to fill. <BR/><BR/>We're always in a state of becoming...Charles Henryhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18168475254263681673noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25624602.post-92188200916682096502008-07-07T17:00:00.000-07:002008-07-07T17:00:00.000-07:00I've held off on commenting to this post. Mostly b...I've held off on commenting to this post. Mostly because it moved me so. One wants one's words to add to the thread, rather than proclaim some selfish opinion designed to garner attention.<BR/><BR/>But this is wonderful. Full of wonder -- wonder-full.<BR/><BR/>Charles Henry is so eloquent. Dag is so insightful. Together, you put so much into perspective. Add truepeers to the "troika," and you are such a force.<BR/><BR/>I guess I might be accused of being a groupie, after a fsahion, LOL -- but I'd wear that badge with pride.<BR/><BR/>Yes. People who survive have stories to tell, that we need to hear.Eowynhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11166378681749345402noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25624602.post-72705061499235073392008-07-07T11:21:00.000-07:002008-07-07T11:21:00.000-07:00Walker, it could well be that you do have conversa...Walker, it could well be that you do have conversations like this often but that you haven't recognized the significance of them at the time.<BR/><BR/>I meet people across a strange spectrum of people that would shock most people, settled as they are within the routines of the day and a personal life, I meeting people who are at the ends of Human experience, good and bad; and often the ones who fall in the middle and say things of not much note are the ones who let slip some profundity that catches me unawares, sometimes later, even years later, changing the course of my life on the spot of epiphany. I see things in terms of a developing mosaic, a load of black tesserae falling into place and illuminating nothing at all by themselves, but in hindsight giving context to the golden single spark that would have been lost without the contrast to give them place and meaning otherwise. In that, I love getting older. <BR/><BR/>Like you, I walk across worlds, and have done so for years. It's not easy. Often it's frightening and lonely to be "out there" with no familiarity and no place of ones own. Still, it is the world of men who are real if different from me, and I gain over time in spite of the losses of a settled existence. <BR/><BR/>I have a beautiful 19th century lithograph of a huddled family on a plateau, a family frightened and cowering, looking to strange worlds they know nothing of and having to face the future in that strangeness. The caption is something like: "They were exiled east of Eden, even unto the Land of Nod."<BR/><BR/>And here we are, friend: Still making our way back home.<BR/><BR/>Sometimes I'll hear a bit of conversation and pack it away for later, forgetting where I heard it first, and then, some quiet time unpacking my mind on a quiet day, there will be that oddity and that treasure I hadn't noticed when I got it. Ahhh.... Beauty. And sometimes horror.<BR/><BR/>All of it makes a picture, and that picture is of the person. It changes daily. Since you're walking you'll have time to consider and to allow the picture to mature slowly, deeply, and maybe in dimensions beyond anything you can imagine now. You might well be unrecognizable to others in a short time, presenting a person so different that your friends today won't know you at all, and you'll have to move on and find others, if you can, to share your life with. It's tough. Lots to lose. <BR/><BR/>You might well be stranger in a strange land forever, never really making it to where you had hoped to end. But in all that time you'll have made the journey that brings others to where no one could have gotten without you. <BR/><BR/>Tough life, this.Daghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10664271893389366772noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25624602.post-89210532633152926202008-07-07T00:19:00.000-07:002008-07-07T00:19:00.000-07:00Wow.I've never had that kind of discussion at Sund...Wow.<BR/><BR/>I've never had that kind of discussion at Sunday morning coffee.<BR/><BR/>Maybe it's me....Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com