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I want to make it clear. The meeting this Friday about what happened? I refuse to attend unless everyone involved with the convention comes. Because this whole situation affects them all and not just those currently involved in this argument.



2 down, 3 to go.

Yay for writing my four-page paper in an hour and 40 minutes.

(As opposed to the five-page paper that took me 3 hours and 21 minutes to write the night before.)

to stand outside the self;;

Another Sunday dawns. I haven't gotten a single thing finished for my classes.

I am thinking about the paper I have to write on Buddha. It is one of the few papers I will enjoy writing. I don't mind explicating my knowledge of religion.

Buddha's thoughts are quite interesting...

There is a legend that when Siddhatta Gotama was still young, his father had taken him to watch the ceremonial ploughing of the fields that took place before planting the next year's crop. Gotama was left alone under a rose-apple tree, since all the men of the area took place in the ploughing. Gotama watched as the young grass was torn up and all the insects and eggs they had laid in the shoots were destroyed. Gotama looked on with sadness, feeling for the grass, empathy akin to what one might feel for his own family. Gotama was sorrowful; but suddenly, a feeling of pure joy arose in him. He was outside of his own body, in a short moment of exstasis. This was Gotama's first indication of a world outside of that which he was born into.

I found myself wondering about the joy Gotama felt. The empathy he had for the grass was born of his selflessness. He was happy that he might feel such compassion for something that he had no prior or future relation with. It freed him, if only momentarily.

This is... the ideal humanity, I think. If we are only to feel for others that same compassion, without condition, we are to make their lives, and our own, easier. There is something weighted about a conditional empathy, for both persons.

I never understood the carelessness of people who might look past complete strangers without thought. It was not the carelessness that mystified me, but the ability to be so careless. But I suppose it is easy to maintain some semblance of the world, your own personal experience, set aside from reality. But your own personal experience should change. It should be constantly added to, with new and insightful thoughts and experiences. And if you are only to push through your own small worldview, you might begin to see how blind you were before. If only for the advancement of yourself, is it not, then, sensible to consider others? As you validate another's existence by acknowledging him/her, you enhance the quality of his/her life and also your own.

If you can feel this compassion for others, you can experience the exstasis. You can take joy in simply feeling. As we are given this unique ability, we should fulfill its purpose.

Sep. 22nd, 2006

Happy Birthday iscaneus!

Even though it'll be a long day, and maybe somewhat stressful, I hope you'll have some time to just stop and enjoy it. It's your special uhh... birthday, after all! (22 on the 22nd)


Voice Post

512K 2:27
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Whatever you do, do it good;;



Yeah, we're in Omaha, and there's a tornado warning. hehehe

We're eating steak, mashed potatoes, mushrooms, and asparagus in the laundry room of Jon's Dad's very...lush home. lols

And Jon is humming the Communist national anthem...

So. There was a tornado warning yesterday, too, whilst anime club was in session. So, for reference, you don't want to get stuck with a bunch of crazy otaku during inclement weather. Because... lol. But we were hardcore. We continued to watch anime while the tornado...worked itself out?


Uh...anyway. Probably should get off the computer now. hehe. ^^
"...imagine us, for we won't really exist if you don't. Against the tyranny of time and politics, imagine us the way we sometimes didn't dare to imagine ourselves: in our most private and secret moments, in the most extraordinarily ordinary instances of life, listening to music, falling in love, walking down the shady streets..."
Can't we all be prophets?

"The gunfire around us makes it hard to hear. But the human voice is
different from other sounds. It can be heard over noises that bury
everything else. Even when it is not shouting. Even if it's just a
whisper. Even the lowest whisper can be heard - over armies - when
it's telling the truth."

It's idealistic. But if you have that charismatic personality, maybe you can make a difference. If you want it enough, you will ache to see its endpoint but you won't give up even in your dying moment. You will make it anything other than a quiet moment to yourself.

Every child is born with the strength to believe in humanity. It is chipped away as he/she grows older. Only those who are truly strong can retain this faith even through the turmoil, all the macabre. Isn't it a sad moment when we learn to stop being vulnerable? That first time we're hurt, and we learn not to trust so readily. Isn't it such a disappointment that we have to grow up? We are so much more than just taken advantage of. It's an injury that will never heal unless we can forgive and truly forget. Putting up these defenses, we are not saying, "you can't hurt me anymore," but "you hurt me and I'm still hurting."

It may be best to do things for the right reason, but I can't completely disdain any means to a good end. Maybe this means I believe it's in the destination and not the journey. I'm shamefully impatient that way. And then missing it when it's done and over.

I used to think my grandfather was weak. He won't say anything, he won't stick up for himself. His sister has wronged him so many times. And now she's forcing the sale of land that's been in the family for more than 100 years, land that their mother hoped would become a heritage. He's still just as cordial and concerned about her as he's always been, and not hung up on all her stupid indiscretions. I kept thinking he should have said something long ago, that he should never have let himself become a doormat. But no matter how many times she messes up, he'll still be a brother to her. And I admire him now. You can't make people realize their mistakes. You can't make people rectify them. You can only decide how you'll react to these mistakes. My grandfather is not a doormat. There's a big difference between letting people push you down and down until you can't get back up and picking yourself back up off the ground, dusting yourself off when something goes awry. Maybe she'll never understand that. But why does it really matter?