A minha vida num Psi...

Agosto 15 2010

Olhei o céu e estava laranja.


Vi nuvens.


Imaginei-me em cima delas, ausente, no meu mundo... sentindo apenas aquilo que nunca ma magoou.


Só se foi com o teu amor.


Publicado por Larissa às 22:03

Hello Lara,

In a moment of idleness and reflection, the meandering ways of the internet brought me here to your somewhat neglected blog. I can read Portuguese quite well and stayed on to poke around, in a bout of voyeurism, I guess. I read a few of your things and was both amused and bemused. You seem to be both a sensitive and a hard person. This text you wrote in August last year; what prompted you to write it and to share such lines? You talk about your hurt and wanting to insulate yourself from it and you also put forth a "disclaimer" concerning someone else's hurt. Things we do to others only have the power to hurt them if they love us, of course. But are we not responsible in some way or another for those who love us, whom we somehow seduced, even if unwillingly? Well, hurt is perhaps within us anyway; others only trigger its surfacing by poking at places where our skin is not so tough. Well, just thinking out loud...to you. Write some.

Pete Townsend
Peter Townsend a 14 de Fevereiro de 2011 às 12:59

What I wanted to say was that one loved the other. Love when is "real" love doesn't hurt.. it feels good!
It is a part of me talking with another part of me. (symbolic)
Loving me, or every one love themselves, is one of the most important things in love.
Do not take this too serious.
Thank you any way.
Larissa a 14 de Fevereiro de 2011 às 17:15

Thank you for your answer. Well, maybe my Portuguese is not as good as I thought after all; compared to what you meant, my reading of your text was completely obliquous. I was taking a look at some other texts of yours and when it come to a specific type, I'm sure I have no idea what you mean. Maybe I'll ask you sometime or another if you are willing to answer. However, as for true love not hurting...I could not see it more differently than you. I am more vulnerable than ever and hurt more easily ever since I found out "real" love, as you call it. Love for my wife, for my child. And I love more everyone and get more upset at certain things going on in the world. My protective bubble of a higher level of selfishness was pierced, so to speak. And that has nothing to do with lack of love for myself although I'll admit to you I am a lot less certain of "knowing" whatever. Will you think I'm being too serious again? Well, that too came with that love. Both that and a profound questioning of everything and sense of joy never before attained. The love I feel has got me by my guts; everything is more intense, be it good or bad. Well, I rambled a bit here. Thanks again for this space of yours
Peter Townsend a 15 de Fevereiro de 2011 às 15:37

Well, just like any other text, so ambiguous as the one that I wrote, you can read in several ways.
I believe that you understood quite well! It is just like a painting. You see what ever your perception is willing to see. I believe that the same hapens with the reading. And this is good. Freedom!
Love is the main drive of all things. what ever you do the most important is to love what you do. Love the family is not selfish is love a part of ourselves. And why not? If it gives you a peace of mind... is a way to hapiness! One can not live in a cage where all the problems of the world are. We all know that cage, we try not to improve that problematic cage, and that is what I believe to be our principal contribution to the world. This, I take very serious.
It is always a pleasure to write with you. Thank you
Larissa a 2 de Março de 2011 às 15:28

Yes, what you wrote is ambiguous and how I read it has more of me than of you. There's no right or wrong, I realize that. Just different. Wanting to gauge that difference was exactly what prompted me to question you about your text.

Now, when you write in prose, your opinions, your outlook on life and the world are clear enough, although words can always be misleading because to some extent each of us makes a unique use of them (when two different people say they are romantic, they very likely mean very different things and by the standards of one of them, the other may not be romantic at all.) Then, when you go and get into this sort of “prose poem” style things get incredibly slippery…

When I read parts of your blog, I was curious about YOUR sensibility. People interest me...sometimes. I find it a very good exercise to become acquainted with sensibilities different from our own, to attempt to see the world from a different perspective. That frees us from ourselves and our personal bents. I believe we all need to experience that freedom.
Peter Townsend a 9 de Março de 2011 às 13:17

O modo como eu vejo o mundo... Tão condicionado como o de qualquer outra pessoa.
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