Three reasons I like to read not-so-well-known blogs

Excellent post and this does not come from a fan of the blogging mutual admiration society. One reason I’ve identified why my blog is still confidential (beside reason 1) after 6+ months, is that I have “the bum between 2 chairs” as Voltaire would put it: promoting my coaching, exploring and experimenting with my new “niche” with the metaphor/archetype of Icarus :coaching young (less young?) passionate souls (the artist for ex) in a dispassionate (as over pragmatic) professional climate. So the need to be, look, feel pro on the one hand. On the other hand, I enjoy genuinely connecting through blogging and sometimes it’s not so pro…carnivalesque even, with the breaking of boundaries (fool archetype) this mode of interaction sometimes entails: oops! But I don’t think I would have learned so much about the people I am interested to coach without taking this risk. Electronic words stay, be careful of reputation, I hear from colleagues: Diderot’s prudent ‘esprit de l’escalier”, for another reason of not being so well known does take over at times. A pity. I’m not the type to live a double life separating the pro from the casual, even though some limits in the right place are warranted, I admit. Does such a blog semi-pro, semi-blogging has a chance? We’ll see. For the meantime, I am still enjoying the experiment.
Michal at Happy Heuristics!

bottledworder

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air. (from “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard” by Thomas Gray)

There are certainly many excellent established blogs out there. I love to read them. But I also like to scour the blogopsphere for hidden gems.

View original post 376 more words

Advertisements

What Doesn’t Kill you Makes you Stronger?

I’ve always wondered at this aphorism. Sound advice for living a life worth living, or an injunction for the masochist upheld by the sadist (or the other way round, doesn’t matter): its partner and accomplice ? This aphorism is taken way too seriously and not, it seems, as Nietzsche intended it. Continue reading

L’ élu: P’tite Ode a Mon Kindlele

Je t’ai attendu
si longtemps
les feuilles moisies
me rappellaient ton absence
je t’ai rêvé
plus de 20 ans
mais cet automne enfin Continue reading

T.H. White: The Book of Merlyn

the book of Merlyn_last chImagine a rusty bolt on the garden door, which has been set wrong, or the door has sagged on its hinges since it was put on, and for years the bolt has never been shot efficiently: except by hammering it, or by lifting the door a little, and wriggling it home with effort. Imagine then that the old bolt is unscrewed, rubbed with emery paper, bathed in paraffin, polished with fine sand, generously oiled, and reset by a skilled workman with such nicety that it bolts and unbolts with the pressure of a finger – with the pressure of a feather – almost so that you could blow it open or shut. Can you imagine the feelings of the bolt? They are the feelings of glory which convalescent people have, after a fever. It would look forward to being bolted, yearning for the raptures of its sweet, succesful motion. Continue reading

Bougainvillier

Superbe poème. Israel est saturée de bougainvilliers aux rouges divers et chatoyants excactement comme dans la photo. J’aime particulièrement la dernière strophe qui rend parfaitement le sentiment d’éphémere que j’éprouve à la vue de cette plante au fil des saisons, courte pour l’automne-hivers, ici,très Wabi-Sabi. Merci
You can find the English version at http://unbuttonedorundone.wordpress.com/2013/05/24/bougainvillea-2/
Exemple de poème d’insipiration Wabi: Je traite du sujet dans un page de mon blog:
https://happyheuristics.wordpress.com/2013/05/24/wabi-sabi-leonard-koren-voir-la-vie-en-wabi-sabi/

unbuttoned or undone

Quand j’aurai trouvé les mots
Je les écrirai sur ces pétales de papier
Minces et pourtant solides, lisses mais veinées
De rêves et de mirages dorés.

Quand les mots se cachent et m’échappent
Je vois leurs couleurs dans les reflets
De passion, dans les pigments rouges
Extasiés, saturés, enflammés qui coulent
Et se mélangent sous un ciel d’alizées.

Quand les mots me trahissent et l’émoi
Déraisonné mais sensé reste muet,
J’entends la douce harmonie à trois voix
L’équilibre de son trèfle tremblant
Sous la chaleur et riant sous la pluie.

Quand les fleurs sont assurément épuisées
Dans le bonheur des caresses torrides
Et des baisers brulants du soleil d’été
Elles s’envolent en mille soupirs
De papillons sans mots pour mourir.

2013-05-23 08.18.24

View original post

The Immaterial Icarus: Yves Klein

 

klein_le peintre de l'espace se jette dans le vide

“L’Art C’Est La Santé”

Dying of ridicule, you, Yves, Prince of the void? I suppose this is only a neo-romantic critic’s invention
After Mondo Cane ridiculation: “you are a charlatan”; that should have been enough for infarction
But it took 3 typological fairy tale heart attacks to do you in:
You would have never renounced to ride your Time Machine
Dog’s world or Dante’s
For “l’art c’est la santé” Continue reading

Tootsie (1982): Notes on Authenticity

Public Lives, Public Masks

Our journey to become and be each day the best we can be may be likened to a journey to be more authentic. “authenticity” is so much on everybody’s lips nowadays that it has even become a cliché.  As social beings, we fall short more often than not of this great value, this ideal. Is total authenticity possible, desirable even? Is authenticity a myth? Continue reading