Jonathan Carroll's Blog, page 43

CarrollBlog 11.27

If there is something to desire,

there will be something to regret.

If there is something to regret,

there will be something to recall.

If there is something to recall,

there was nothing to regret.

If there was nothing to regret,

there was nothing to desire.

Vera Pavlova

CarrollBlog 11.24

"Cherish your solitude. Take trains by yourself to places you have never been. Sleep out alone under the stars. Learn how to drive a stick shift. Go so far away that you stop being afraid of not coming back. Say no when you don't want to do something. Say yes if your instincts are strong, even if everyone around you disagrees. Decide whether you want to be liked or admired. Decide if fitting in is more important than finding out what you're doing here. Believe in kissing."

Eve Ensler

CarrollBlog 11.20

Always

by Pablo Neruda

I am not jealous

of any man who came before me.

Come with a man

on your shoulders,

come with a hundred men in your hair,

come with a thousand men between your breasts and your feet,

come like a river full of men

which flows down to the wild sea,

to the eternal surf, to Time!

Bring them all

to where I am waiting for you;

we shall always be alone,

we shall always be only you and I

alone on earth

to start our adventure together!

CarrollBlog 11.19

I am dead because I lack desire,

I lack desire because I think I possess.

I think I possess because I do not try to give.

In trying to give, you see that you have nothing;

Seeing that you have nothing, you try to give of yourself;

Trying to give of yourself, you see that you are nothing:

Seeing that you are nothing, you desire to become;

In desiring to become, you begin to live.

Rene Daumal

CarrollBlog 11.18

ALICANTE by Jacques Prevert

Une orange sur la table

Ta robe sur le tapis

Et toi dans mon lit

Doux présent du présent

Fraîcheur de la nuit

Chaleur de ma vie.

An orange on the table

Your dress in the floor

and you in my bed

Sweet present of the present

The cool of the night

The warmth of my life.

CarrollBlog 11.9

In Order to Talk with the Dead

By Jorge Teiller

In order to talk to the dead

you have to choose words

that they recognize as easily

as their hands

recognized the fur of their dogs in the dark.

Words clear and calm

as water of the torrent tamed in the wineglass

or chairs the mother puts in order

after the guests have left.

Words that night shelters

as marshes do their ghostly fires

In order to talk to the dead

you have to know how to wait:

they are fearful

like the first steps of a child.

But if we are patient

one day they will answer us

with a poplar leaf trapped in a broken mirror,

with a flame that suddenly revives in the fireplace,

with a dark return of birds

before the glance of a girl

who waits motionless on the threshold.

CarrollBlog 11.4

Sweet Darkness

by David Whyte

You must learn one thing.

The world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds

except the one to which you belong.

Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet

confinement of your aloneness

to learn

anything or anyone

that does not bring you alive

is too small for you.

CarrollBlog 11.3

"You risked your life, but what else have you ever risked? Have you ever risked disapproval? Have you ever risked economic security? Have you ever risked a belief? I see nothing particularly courageous in risking one's life. So you lose it, you go to your hero's heaven and everything is milk and honey 'til the end of time, right? You get your reward and suffer no earthly consequences. That's not courage. Real courage is risking something that you have to keep on living with, real courage is risking something that might force you to rethink your thoughts and suffer change and stretch consciousness. Real courage is risking one's clichés."

Tom Robbins

CarrollBlog 11.1

The Too Much

by Christa Bell

I

Couldn't have been more beautiful

Than I was last night.

I couldn't have been sexier,

Juicier,

Or more luscious.

My ass couldn't have been bigger

Or glowed more brightly.

My teeth couldn't have been whiter,

Skin softer,

Hair shinier.

I couldn't have smelled any sweeter,

Been nicer,

Skinnier,

Funnier,

Or more holy.

And still I was not enough

For you.

'Not enough,'

My friends tell me,

Will never be my issue.

They say it's 'the too much'

That leaves lovers like me

Strangled by our own question marks.

You see—

Some women love lightly,

Like whispers wrapped in spun sugar.

And these are the ones who make it so hard

For the blue-black molasses

Ever-lasting taffy kind of love

That overwhelms the tongue.

They make it hard for those of us who,

Due to circumstances beyond our control,

Are destined to always

Over-love with a vengeance.

We are the spell-casting blue magic witches,

Mixing menstrual fluid into barbeque sauce.

We will gather your pubic hairs under the new moon

And bottle them in our piss.

Our territory is blood and dreams,

Past lives and other states over which

You have no control.

Be warned: you will lose all control.

So if you really need to keep it,

If you can't keep it real,

If intensity and complexity

Just ain't your thing,

If you can't handle the truth,

Then brethren—fuck you.

'Cause in this house of worship

There is no room for emotions

That judge and demand regret

For our pleasure.

If forty-eight hours later was too soon

For you to be in my mouth,

Than you shouldn't have come there.

But don't you tell me it's my fault.

Every way I am is divine.

I won't feel guilty.

I just won't be ashamed.

I will not hide this story.

My craft obligates me to tell the truth.

And, brothers, y'all need to know:

If too much sugar makes you sick,

Spoils your appetite for even the smell of dinner,

There are certain flavors of women

You should not consume.

'Cause tasting even a little bit

Of what you know you can't swallow

Is

Just

Disrespectful.

CarrollBlog 10.28

"Betrayal wears a lot of different hats. You don't have to make a show of it like Brutus did, you don't have to leave anything visible jutting from the base of your best friend's spine, and afterward you can stand there straining your ears for hours, but you won't hear a cock crow either. No, the most insidious betrayals are done merely by leaving your life jacket hanging in your closet while you lie to yourself that it's probably not the drowning man's size. That's how we slide, and while we slide we blame the world's problems on colonialism, imperialism, capitalism, corporatism, stupid white men and America, but there's no need to make a brand name of blame. Individual self-interest: that's the source of our descent, and it doesn't start in the boardrooms or war rooms either. It starts in the HOME."

from A FRACTION OF THE WHOLE by Steve Toltz