Thursday, 12 November 2009
Nature Part III - Final
Few springs drive her, but these never wind down, but are always effective, always manifold.
Her drama is always newbecause she creates new spectators. Life is her most beautiful discovery and death is her device to have much (infinite/immortal) life.
She wraps us in dullness and forever spurs us on to the light.
She makes us dependent upon the earth, sluggish and heavy, yet always shakes and wakes us up.
She gives us needs, because she loves movement. It is a wonder how little she uses to achieve all this movement. Every need is a favour, soon satisfied, soon roused again,. When she gives us another, it is a source of new pleasure. But soon she comes into balance.
At every moment she prepares the longest race and at every moment she has reached the goal.
She is vanity itself, but not for us, for whom she has given herself the greatest importance.
She lets every child practice its arts on her, every fool judge her and thousands to pass over her dully, without seeing her. In all she takes joy. From all she draws her profit (credit)
We obey her laws even in resisting them; we work with her even in working against her.
She makes all she gives a blessing, for she begins by making it indispensable. She delays so that we long to her; she hurries so that we never have our fill of her.
She has no laughter or speech, but she makes tongues and hearts through which she feels and speaks.
Her crown is love. Only through love do we come to her. She opens chasms between all beings, and each seek to devour the other. She has seperated all to draw all together. With a few draughts from the cup of love she makes good a life of (otherwise) toil.
She is all. She rewards herself and punishes herself, delights and torments herself. She is rough and gentle, charming and terrifying, impotent and all powerful. All is eternally present in her. She knows nothing of past and future. The present is her eternity (her youth). #she is kind. #I praise her with all her works. She is wise and still. We can force no explanation from her body, nor tear any gift from her that she does not want to give freely. She is full of tricks, but to a good end, and it is best not to notice her gitfts.
She is whole and yet always unfinished. As she does now, she may (decide) to do forever.
To each she appears in a unique form. She hides herself in a thousands names and terms, and is always the same.
She has placed me her; she will lead me away. I trust myself to her. She may do with me, (and) she will not hate her work. I hae not spoken to her. No, whatever is true of false, she has spoken it.
All faults, all merit, is she..
Her drama is always newbecause she creates new spectators. Life is her most beautiful discovery and death is her device to have much (infinite/immortal) life.
She wraps us in dullness and forever spurs us on to the light.
She makes us dependent upon the earth, sluggish and heavy, yet always shakes and wakes us up.
She gives us needs, because she loves movement. It is a wonder how little she uses to achieve all this movement. Every need is a favour, soon satisfied, soon roused again,. When she gives us another, it is a source of new pleasure. But soon she comes into balance.
At every moment she prepares the longest race and at every moment she has reached the goal.
She is vanity itself, but not for us, for whom she has given herself the greatest importance.
She lets every child practice its arts on her, every fool judge her and thousands to pass over her dully, without seeing her. In all she takes joy. From all she draws her profit (credit)
We obey her laws even in resisting them; we work with her even in working against her.
She makes all she gives a blessing, for she begins by making it indispensable. She delays so that we long to her; she hurries so that we never have our fill of her.
She has no laughter or speech, but she makes tongues and hearts through which she feels and speaks.
Her crown is love. Only through love do we come to her. She opens chasms between all beings, and each seek to devour the other. She has seperated all to draw all together. With a few draughts from the cup of love she makes good a life of (otherwise) toil.
She is all. She rewards herself and punishes herself, delights and torments herself. She is rough and gentle, charming and terrifying, impotent and all powerful. All is eternally present in her. She knows nothing of past and future. The present is her eternity (her youth). #she is kind. #I praise her with all her works. She is wise and still. We can force no explanation from her body, nor tear any gift from her that she does not want to give freely. She is full of tricks, but to a good end, and it is best not to notice her gitfts.
She is whole and yet always unfinished. As she does now, she may (decide) to do forever.
To each she appears in a unique form. She hides herself in a thousands names and terms, and is always the same.
She has placed me her; she will lead me away. I trust myself to her. She may do with me, (and) she will not hate her work. I hae not spoken to her. No, whatever is true of false, she has spoken it.
All faults, all merit, is she..
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
Nature Part II
She plays out our drama: we do not know whether she herself sees it, yet she plays it for us, who stands in the corner.
She is eternal life, growth, and movement, yet she does not move on. She transforms herself endlessly but there is not a single moment's pause in her. She has no consept for stopping and she has set her curse upon standing still. She is firm. Her tread is measured, her exceptions rare, her laws immutable.
She has thought and ponders still, but not as humans do, but as nature does. She keeps to herself her own all-embracing meaning, which no one can discover from her.
All humans beings are in her, and she is in all. With all, she plays a friendly game and rejoices if ever one wins something from her. With many, she plays so secretly that she ends her game before they know it.
Even what is most unnatural is nature. Even the coarsest, most narrow-minded person has something of her genius. Whoever does not see her everywhere, then see's her clearly nowhere.
She loves herself and clings to herself eternally with innumerable eyes and hearts. She has divided herself to enjoy herself. Insatiable, she always brings forth beings to enjoy her, to communicate herself to.
She delights in illusons. Whoever destroys this illusion in themselves or others, she punishes like the sternest tyrant. But those who follow her trustingly she takes to her heart like a child.
Her children are innumerable. With noe is she sparing, but she has her favourites, those on and for whom she lavishes much and sacrfices much. Greatness, she protects.
She flings her creatures out of the nothingness and tells them nothing of where they come from or where they are going. They must only run; she knows the course.
She is eternal life, growth, and movement, yet she does not move on. She transforms herself endlessly but there is not a single moment's pause in her. She has no consept for stopping and she has set her curse upon standing still. She is firm. Her tread is measured, her exceptions rare, her laws immutable.
She has thought and ponders still, but not as humans do, but as nature does. She keeps to herself her own all-embracing meaning, which no one can discover from her.
All humans beings are in her, and she is in all. With all, she plays a friendly game and rejoices if ever one wins something from her. With many, she plays so secretly that she ends her game before they know it.
Even what is most unnatural is nature. Even the coarsest, most narrow-minded person has something of her genius. Whoever does not see her everywhere, then see's her clearly nowhere.
She loves herself and clings to herself eternally with innumerable eyes and hearts. She has divided herself to enjoy herself. Insatiable, she always brings forth beings to enjoy her, to communicate herself to.
She delights in illusons. Whoever destroys this illusion in themselves or others, she punishes like the sternest tyrant. But those who follow her trustingly she takes to her heart like a child.
Her children are innumerable. With noe is she sparing, but she has her favourites, those on and for whom she lavishes much and sacrfices much. Greatness, she protects.
She flings her creatures out of the nothingness and tells them nothing of where they come from or where they are going. They must only run; she knows the course.
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