I haven’t walked the Neckar Insel in 55 years. The last time I visited Tübingen, in ‘98, I cried when I heard the bells of the Stiftskirche ring—I knew the sound; I had listened to it daily for 5+ years.
Five years ago, I remember printing a bumper sticker for myself... "If you were in your body you'd be home by now." Still haven't put on my car, although I've been following the path. :>)
Maybe it's a lifelong journey for some of us. To be ourselves, to be home in the world, in the body, in relationships... Or do you mean: if you were at home in your body, you would have made a change and stopped commuting? :)
More the former. And the latter has also shifted for me with intuition, honesty, and buddhist practice. Creativity in life requires limits (for me). Rollo May talks about in The Courage to Create.
I empathize with the struggle. This is beautiful: “This much I knew: writing had become stupidly fucking difficult. Like squeezing tears from a stone.”
I haven’t walked the Neckar Insel in 55 years. The last time I visited Tübingen, in ‘98, I cried when I heard the bells of the Stiftskirche ring—I knew the sound; I had listened to it daily for 5+ years.
Thank you for sharing that, Arthur. It's a special place.
I have a memory of being inside the tower as a kid with family and getting traumatized by the loud bells :)
Now, that was a memorable experience!
Five years ago, I remember printing a bumper sticker for myself... "If you were in your body you'd be home by now." Still haven't put on my car, although I've been following the path. :>)
Maybe it's a lifelong journey for some of us. To be ourselves, to be home in the world, in the body, in relationships... Or do you mean: if you were at home in your body, you would have made a change and stopped commuting? :)
More the former. And the latter has also shifted for me with intuition, honesty, and buddhist practice. Creativity in life requires limits (for me). Rollo May talks about in The Courage to Create.
I empathize with the struggle. This is beautiful: “This much I knew: writing had become stupidly fucking difficult. Like squeezing tears from a stone.”
In the spirit of Hesse, I hope you find your bamboo grove!