Watchin You, Watchin Me

There's this inkling where many a person thinks, never that
Not me
I'm special, I'm not like them
But then we'd all watch, in the comfort of home, the place where the guard drops down
The place where we blind our eyes to life, get vulnerable for the sake of sanity, sleep, all our own
We'd all watch those others
Cookie-cutters
And just let them be, like that, exposed on T.V.
Act out on the stage of taped 'reality'
Reality?
Actuality, may be more the case
But they're human,
Either way
And so are the watchers,
Mouth open, brows furrowed
"No way"
Laughter peels, at least they get that much
Those working long, repeating days
But then I'll wonder
With the quest to be so individual
We're still not entirely indivisible
From those things that set us apart
From our common brothers
Stay different cause it's your destiny
But aching for the simplicity of belonging, easily
Comfortably, for periods extending beyond just me
These places we spend our time
Bringing us closer to keeping us apart
Cause most of it goes on in our minds, plugged up fire wires
Watching you, watching me
Watch myself

fodder

standing shoulder to shoulder
talking life and this cold cold weather
persons passing by, begs a cigarette this one guy
another follows in his wake
rappin wacky, seeming straight
maybe it was just our licked up state
we're all cool so it stays engaged
give a nod to design, balls stacked in an xmas fir line
color comments, pink and red
night light changes the look
the well-acquainted lady said
back to the sir, tiger's name on his breath
with martini and riesling on the rest
"you know i have this doctor friend"
"says there's only nuff blood to operate but one head"
laughter, we'd all heard it before
toasted "to not being stupid" at the outset of our fun
then a question "how can we know the other one?"

Goat Parade

I'll never forget my first adult encounter with the genus species Capra aegagrus hircus, the common goat. My first ever encounter I, sadly, cannot remember but from the stories I've heard of my toddler self on a farm, I'm sure there was some form of pulling, prodding and general light animal abuse on my behalf.
But the meaningful cross came during a trip to Mali. There were goats everywhere. That's like saying there was sand everywhere, but it's true. Of the few animals to roam the villages and in between, the goat was the most common and most valuable. The attraction I felt to this animal was pretty strong. I mean, they were so CUTE! And the vibe they gave off was akin to the laid back, slinky yet pouncy style I find so accommodating with cats, kittens. So as we are trekking between two villages along a dusty, barren trail, we run into a heard of goats, scattered, grazing on what little vegetation they could find. And then I hear a cry. A distinct, and almost human-like wail coming from my right. It was a baby goat who had been estranged from his/her mother, frantically running in circles, head and neck stiff and searching the horizon. Head down, following the ground in search for food, baby goat must have lost itself in the intricacies of foraging, all the while losing track of its clan. Now it was in panic mode, sending out a wild call in hopes the familiar warmth of his mommy would reply. And reply she did. This was a moment, let me tell you. Almost moved me to tears. Equally engrossed in the hunt for sustenance, in fact, probably more engrossed since she was a nursing goat, baby goat's mother, upon hearing the familiar cry of her young, jolted upright and began to adjust her course in the direction of the sounding kid. She replied "baaa" (I'm pretty sure goats baa as well) or maybe it was "maa", a tinge of concern in her voice. From across the plain they called to one another. And eventually, recognized one another. The mother trotted towards her young, who was, no joke, sprinting, shaky-legged and still baa-ing, or maa-ing, as if to confirm he was running towards the right goat. And upon meeting one another, this baby goat went straight for the teat. Just, bam, right back to the source. One of those National Geographic moments, for sure.
LOOK AT THIS THING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Another thing that fascinates (and creeps me out) about goats are their rectangular pupils.  The Russian avant garde painter Kasimir Malevich revered the square and rectangle and focused almost exclusively on exploring its metaphysical and spiritual significance in art, and its distinct absence in nature. Upon seeing these m-fckers eyes I immediately thought back to KM. Though not a perfectly linear rectangle, the shape certainly does exist in their eyes.

This morning, a colleague e-mails me a link to iwantagoat, a non-profit that seeks to aid tribal villagers in Koraput, the second poorest district in India by raising funds to donate goats. I can imagine that, as was the case in Mali, goats are extremely valuable for not only feeding a large amount of people, but also providing milk (for that yuuuuummy chevre) as well as their hides and horns. 

Their sharply-suited sense of humor lent itself well to this parody of "I'm on a Boat". Behold, "I Want a Goat":

Their fun approach to this cause makes spreading the word quite effective, translating the very real importance of empowerment through the basics (that is, goats) into a format familiar to us Westerners, we who are often disconnected from the immense value of a 'measly 20 bucks'. And you can pimp-out your digital goat. I gave mine Manolos, wings, and a grill. Go figure.

If that's not enough goat-age for one person, the librarian today mentions her discussion of goats with my mother, who is researching goat-keeping. Uhhh, random??

I think not.

And what is it that you see?

(Baby Kandinsky)

Is change for ourselves through another too much to handle on the full plates of today?

I was having a conversation with a successful 50-something creative director at a major cable network the other night.
He was the keeper of his little quirks, he understands what drives him- in life, in the workplace; and he knows what he likes, what he wants-- and doesn't need to justify it or change it for anyone.
But there was a sadness. He felt it, I felt it. An element of his life he had given up on, having never really tried to begin with...
He loves women. Beautiful women, smart women, interesting women. Women. (period). And on this I heartily concurred. There is absolutely nothing more moving than a full woman who engages the senses, the imagination. Call it the feminine mystique, whatever you will; but male, female, child, elderly-- we can all appreciate that other half who, with a full-hearted grin can over-take a moment to make things a smidge more interesting (regardless of her I.Q.).
And although he was single and, I got the sense, accepting of the possibility that he probably always would be, I knew behind those successful, career-satisfied-eyes, he wouldn't have minded if things were different. His parents were married, had been for ever. He had 3 other brothers who all, like him, were not married. He began to psycho-deconstruct it, "My brothers and I, we don't get it, none of us are married yet we come from a parents who happily are and have been."
I brought it to the real-time. The element of time. "Well it's all about what you allow. What you make time for in your head." I challenged him: "I think we all have the potential for a lot more than we imagine. We are capable of devoting ourselves to elements beyond what we've habitually established, but we just don't allow it."
Indeed, why must it so often be one or the other? We make our choices and we choose it to be, contentedly, taking full accountability and pride in our decisions. But there comes a time in many people's lives when, having built their success, their empires, they realize there's still more, or, to look at it conversely, less-- something missing. And the feeling of "what have I been denying while my full energy and attention has been elsewhere?"
Can we be successful and multi-dimensional? Does success necessitate a full immersion, one-minded, fully-dedicated consciousness? Or can we stretch the limits of our desires (as little or big as they may be), our abilities to obtain those desires, to co-exist with the things we know, are comfortable with, have set up for life, seemingly, not to compromise on. Or are those phases on our personal evolutions strictly individual, immovable to the hand of choice?
Growth, the vision of new directions; I wanted to impart that ability on my new drinking buddy. Maybe if, as I speak of my ideas and visions, I blow my cigarette smoke in his direction those tiny wishes will adhere to the particles of exhaust and penetrate his habits of thought, of action, of belief; I thought.
Of course the potential exists in us all to have those things we want, indeed to first imagine them the way they'd be best. And what of fulfillment? Maybe all we need is the permission -- someone to tell us it's possible simply by introducing the novel idea at the right time, with the right dose of osmosis. And then the tides of change can begin their work...
You never know who will drop in on you to help.
Let's be there for each other, people.

"They're so wise and they don't know it"

Heavy knit sweaters wrapped around 'em, seated in a big white box of a room, bright marker-art held in their hands, passin them around following the "let me see".
dissections it with words of.generations past built a language, sure to last
not as long as those things they describe
started early and then the dictionaries and societies arrive
but, of course
we're looking at art out of children's eyes
sharp sporadic darts
hot pinks, violent violets, deep acid greens
holes in some papers torn
intentioned 'signature'
or was that simply what these almost-grown up grown ups so assuredly only just assumed
Do the 2 to 4 year old Sally or Kelly Sues know what a signature signifies, or 'signature' all alone, sans the indefinite article, 'a'?
and what it means
probably, nowadays
with the internet and all
no but really,
their drawings are so good.
They'll be up tomorrow.
No, wait it's a tomorrow comes today day




------------------------------------
Post date!

Is this a medical condition?

Does this happen as part of the natural, every here and then quaintitudes (bam, just made up a word) of the human body? Standing in the kitchen, over the foamy sponge and slippery dishes, or reading in a seat...

This little flutter in the chest, feels like the wings of a little birdy in your ear.

And your breath takes on this incredible airy, light, foggy quality.

It hovers in between your throat and chest, feels like the way this looks

It happens when you least expect it, because I really don't ever expect it.

And I quite like it.

As if my breath were levitating my heart.

Or my heart levitating on breath.

Isn't that the same thing?

I don't need it treated.

It makes me feel more alive in those instances.

Savor, to

Bring Back the Savor!

Ah, memories. Just that much sweeter than the moment itself. Packaged up in perfectly pin-pointable context of a life span, section; maybe, maybe recoverable.
The quickness is an asset inextricable from the bountiful daily matrix of schedule.
Nonesuch agendas or grocery lists.
I want to SAVOR SHIT. (excuse the language. and the visual.)
I want my 35 minute morning in a sunny kitchen with the newspaper (not) and a plate of berries, a bowl of oatmeal. Those commercials- Lies! Who actually does that? IN A BATHROBE? More than twice a year?
Restructure the routine.
While flipping through some magazine, on some day of the week, in some library- I think it was Vogue- they profiled another up-and-coming, something or other stylist, fashion girl who's been working her ass off for years and might slip under the rug with the rest of the disposables but wait-- she said something worth holding on to.
Her 'style motto' or whatever the cutesy journalistic lingo was, emphasized the timeless. (ugh, yes I know).
But then I'll look at someone like my brother-in-law who packed it all in and moved to the States from the DE and what those things were that he made room for....
An unbreakable; in all categories of design, craftsmanship, usability, and necessity- Alessi espresso pot, it's nicked and worn and wonderfully broken in and makes the tastiest. His grandfather's crazy lighter which is wood and round and bulky and strange but damnit if it's not the coolest, most treasured lighter in East Harlem. Two small crates of records, and the Technics to make them sound. We've probably heard every record in there more than a fair share but they play so fresh each time (the medium is the message with that one.). Then there's a pair of mugs (it's not really a mug so much as a large tea cup) with a small pair of eyes watching you sip, reminding you that "kunst offert die augen", art gives eyes. A few choice pieces for die wardrobe (count a top hat and ascot- ahhah), tailored blazer, busted, trusted kicks and bye bye Berlin. The rest to be built up with (I imagine) the continued discretion of preference and taste. Bit by bit with some things lasting for the passing on. There's a pocket watch in there somewhere, too (obligatory).

Who said discrimination always has to be bad? There's no room for all the crap this world has produced, continues to produce. Can we get this memo out?? It's bad for the environment, it's bad for aesthetic sensibility, any semblance of character or sense of worth and/or value (human, material, spiritual, social), and, in many cases, it's a big ol write-off because no profits can be weasled out of increasingly tight wallets and, hopefully, increasingly sophisticated sensibilites. Chalk it up as a step in the wrong direction towards right, throw it into the $0.99 bin. Relics. Was the bottom line worth this?

::In search of the anomolies. Those misplaced days that don't fit in along the timeline of the others. The ones that will forever and always stick out in your memory because of that je ne sais quoi factor, that little bit of morning light that managed to catch you catching it. Mutual appreciation, ah.

I think I'll make myself a cuppa and stare wistfully out the window now.

Come A Year With Me

Year = way = Experiment within the lab trial = Life = Not always, always what you make it

An ambitious idea, knowing my tendencies to err on the side of postpone
But who is Ms. Right if not Ms. Right Now?
Now, is all we've got with a pocket full of pay me mind in a painted picture of tomorrows,
I'm cashing in --
I'll call upon the energies of Sophie Calle and the Name inside working to gain light, by the weight of
éffort
time

One Year
365 Entries
Here.
No excuses, espeically those of the "this is silly, dumb, pointless" variety (they say Know Thy Self, I wish I didn't know that part well)
Élan vital, ensures me this can be more than some aired-out bore of a jour-n-al
Mademoiselle, listen to the brook
Had been doing fairly well, archives, take us back over '08's spell
What shall be found through recording of what otherwise passes in an instance?
Are we still walking this razor's edge? Man of your time,
Check the trending topics for what matters to the masses
Real time
Maybe we will find an overlap along this experiment's map
But
I doubt it.

And even if I have to post-date; I'll pretend like the past can still be had.

We all need our outlets

The Perfect Fruit

This morning I was in that fairly common state of morning-time lucid dreaming; a hazy point between asleep and awake brought on by a gonging alarm clock. And something clung to my attention, The Perfect Fruit. I remember saying these three words aloud as I hit the snooze button, the kill-the-volume-switch so that these strange thoughts, seemingly out of nowhere, may continue sounding their story to my inner ear.

The apple. Next on the list was the pear. Fruits that provide the same energy they require of the body in processing them. Leaves hardly a trace in its wake, instrumental mostly in maintaining the machine’s memory, cleanly it would seem. Now, I’d actually read such ‘factual’ statements on the apple. Not sure how the pear made it into the mix. I do love pears; so juicy and perfumed, soft and fragrant.

The Perfect Fruit… something tells me there’s more to this energy metaphor. Seamless energy systems, body’s checkbooks balanced supreme.

Maybe I’ll set my alarm clock earlier next go around, leave some more time for half-out-of-my-mind message reception.

PC Génie

the rules. were there are. no rules. all the same, guidelines outlined hereforth:

itchy trippin fingertappin fingertips

< ♩ sung along a lilting blusey tune ♩ >

Hey little girl you- want to-
Be amused
string those boys along and watch as
They blow- right by- they-
Blow your fuse

Giggle that smirk
Roll it-
off your wink
Shoulders shift while he-
gets your drink

Now little girl- with that-
juice in hand
dance me a song-
mesmerized & they can't-
Understand
the trance she's in with the-
shimmy and shake-
Yea- she shakes em up-
as you put-

down your cup

Whisper over,
tell your mama she's gonna-
miss her hit
cause that little girl's gone and-
sailed my ship
Ooh!

But all the while, you be- skippin' town
never too close they- won't-
stand your ground

Well didn't that look say-
Baby, Amuse me-
aww quit your games now- and, uh
Roll my dice
cause you know I ain't got but-
this here-
Appetite

< / ♪♪ sung along a lilting blusey tune ♪♪ >

## W-I-P #

from Rumi

The Eternal Idea

You may seem to be the microcosm;

In fact, you are the macrocosm.

The branch might seem like the fruit's origin:

In fact, the branch exists because of the fruit.

Would the gardener have planted the tree at all

Without a desire and hope for fruit?

That's why the tree is really born from the fruit

Even if it seems the fruit is created by the tree.

The idea which comes first comes last in realization—

Particularly that idea which is eternal.

A Cursory Glance

If only my words were thoughts at length and speed of flowing air. Quick it runs but down it goes into words slow like heat makes you go,more.heat made from much molecular motion

So many paths crossing lives in minds tossing like a ship from shore to shore - sands and stones are character spots then shown when dock we do to grab and shape this clue

Making better does energy want and move. Get it down to signal, yes, I know you know I know it to be so

See image at site and quickly run most recent rights
This day I felt, recall it now, match up with signs for singers shorn. Shared. KW TS SC SC BK JM DC JW AK AM XX TM SP
Thus all believe again
A poem wrote on my phone so much more than a sound, a note and yet it could only stay awhile though its impact, don't want to lose that
Try to remember thought lines of time like she looks back
Her neck turned to the past of country's last
His flew futuristic always anxious for what's next?
Somewhere right of center they crossed, overlapped while time motion's forward pulled to straight
But tangle singing does run knots across the waves

Character is destiny
Fantasy is fate
Writing out across Hammurabi's slate
Sea, brought back the sea in my hair, sun in my skin
What an incredible time place people food air weather rock swimming laughing SMILING
just so damn content and blessed.
So grateful and full of light and warmth.
Adventure a little
Books and articles eating
Tiny moments of memories, book catapulting
clicking die on felt,
Pina Colada's and tubes, waves and heat with some spray of oil limbs shiny warm
Back it's now parc bench chilly
Palm trees replaced by pine trees
Leaves skipping on cement
Where crabs skipped across sand

my life my lines my beats my rhymes
someone say that one time?
musta been so on my mind

ambient connections of consciousness
collections of my moments
tokens experience,
breathing exhaling truth for another link of green light there's proof
body feeling what's making itself real

stars + planes in the skies
I breathe art
I don't tell no lies
I love trust, believe in my skies
And know enough what's write
about right
And wrong about love
Subversive sometimes
Those time lies
We tell to inside
Never long enough
They keep us alive, aline
By dark ways
Always callin' our bluff
Then see rays, sunshaping
we shine
To meet the night
With slices of life

Pure Spirit, In 3 Parts

A call to awakening,

"There are enormous pressures in our world that seek to induce mankind to bear the loss of faith and moral certainties by being drugged into oblivion--by mass entertainments, shallow material satisfactions, pseudo-explanations of reality, and cheap ideologies. At the end of that road lies Huxley's Brave New World of senseless euphoric automata. Today, when death and old age are increasingly concealed behind euphamisms and comforting baby talk, and life is threatened with being smothered in the mass consumption of hypnotic mechanized vulgarity, the need to confront man with the reality of his situation is greater than ever. For the dignity of man lies in his ability to face reality in all its senselessness; to accept it freely, without fear, without illusions--and to laugh at it."

-Martin Esslin, Theatre of the Absurd

A poet's painting,

If you are seeking, seek us with joy

For we live in the kingdom of joy.

Do not give your heart to anything else

But to the love of those who are clear joy,

Do not stray into the neighborhood of despair.

For there are hopes: they are real, they exist –

Do not go in the direction of darkness –

I tell you: suns exist.

- Jalal-ud-Din Rumi

Guidance a bit more concretely,

"Search for your place of greatest service, keep the initiative despite headwinds, find ways of expressing yourself more effectively, get behind inhibitions, and be practical in seeing what works and what doesn't. Follow the yearning for extended experience in "distant lands," be skillful in displaying your enthusiasm while taking nothing for granted, and allow a new perspective or rhythm of expression to adjust old habits in action, thought, and feeling."
-Robert Wilkinson

Hello Mr. Brainwash

I watched this interview of French grafitti artist Mr. Brainwash at the music blog I LISTEN TO EVERYTHING, which I came across thanks to a link posted at Susan Miller's Astrology Zone.
Ah, the chain of linkage!

It's a great interview and inspiring tag-along into the studio and creative process of MBW.

Part I

Carson Daly interview Mr. Brainwash on his show The Last Call [PART 1] from bentzi19 on Vimeo.

Part II

Carson Daly interview Mr. Brainwash on his show The Last Call [PART 2] from bentzi19 on Vimeo.

Notes from my Margin

I've been on a "pump yourself up" kick lately. Getting into gear to break past whatever may or may not hold me back, depending on the day...
While in a trance of totally-fulfilling-the-moment, I took quick rest stops up exit ramps, themselves mini highways; carrying the flow of the main artery into a write-bite.
Reflecting on the creation, the process, the sensation while fully immersed in it makes for some pretty good not-from-concentrate concentration.

"You can't be scared making art, doing you. No mistake is too bad. All mistakes are perfect mistakes. All flaws are only so in the imagined mind.
Once you make the move, action sees no imperfection -- it only sees possibility."

things I like, things I love

Former : Square business cards

Top : Creative Design Agency 23 Suite Studio

Bottom : Bar Breton (highly recommended)

_____________________

Latter : Kombucha

My first encounter with this beverage happened late last year, while visiting a friend on the arguably more 'crunchy' of our nation's coasts. I cannot say enough about this miracle elixir. Ok, so no miracles have actually manifested as a direct cause of my consuming it (that I'm aware of) but if you love your body, your health - then learn to love this drink. The smell and knowledge of how it's made may be initially a bit off-putting. Get over it. It's worth it. So worth it.
They've happily expanded their product line to include many-a flavors (mis-nomer as there is absolutely nothing artificial about it) ranging from strawberry, lavender & hibiscus infusions, guava, pomegranate blends, etc etc. It's not the easiest to find at your local bodega but I have a feeling more and more will be carrying GT's "Living Food for the Living Body".

Check out some cool scientific information on the...:

"The culture itself looks somewhat like a large pancake, and though often called a mushroom, a mother of vinegar or by the acronym SCOBY (for "Symbiotic Colony of Bacteria and Yeast"). It is scientifically classified as a zoogleal mat."

A ZOOGLEAL MAT? That's pretty coooooooL!

I do realize that to make this sort of "fermented mushroom tea" a priority among the liquids you take in can be off-putting.

Maybe some drank would be better, no?
Water, sugar, purple.

Kombucha culture can dance around in my belly any day!

Because of its fermented nature, there's a slight, slight, %age of alcohol. The teeny little buzz procured from your first few sips of the bubbly adds a nice touch. Guaranteed smile generator.

http://www.synergydrinks.com/
From the site...
"Each batch is gently placed in a warm and spiritual environment where the walls are painted purple and spiritual music is played. Though it may sound silly, the most important thing that we do when making our batches is to give them LOTS of love. "

UH. That's incredible.

Some fun facts:

In his autobiography, Nobel Prize winner Alexandr Solzhenitsyn wrote that drinking Kombucha helped him survive the Siberian slave camps of the former Soviet Union.

Kombucha has been a health-promoting and life-enhancing wonder food since as early as the Tsin Chinese Dynasty of 221 BC. Its popularity has been documented throughout history in all corners of the world, from Russia to India, Germany to Japan.

The Kombucha organism is a symbiotic colony of yeasts and bacteria that form a strong membrane that covers the liquid/air interface of the vessel it grows in.

Kombucha proponents claim many advantages such as better experience with foods that 'stick' going down such as rice or pasta, increased energy, sharper eyesight, and better skin condition.

Kombucha is delicately cultured - some liken it to fermentation - for 30 days. During this period, essential nutrients form like active enzymes, viable probiotics, amino acids, antioxidants and polyphenols. All of these combine to create an elixir that immediately works with the body to restore balance and vitality.

PG Pictorial

For as much as I love words, images have a quality incomprable in their verbage.
For some eye candy on this Friday the 14th, some static dynamic...

Strange Attractors

Just got this awesome book from the library:

Metamagical Themas: Questing for the Essence of Mind and Pattern

The title page presents a gorgeous ambigram, good start.


I've yet to properly crack it open, as it were, but did get a chance to read the inner flap. Which led me to "strange attractors" or, mathematically derived shapes that provide for quite beautiful alternatives to, elaborations upon, the resounding infinity symbol within them.
As M. Hofstadter wrote, "My eye could not help but be strangely attracted by this odd term..."
Take a gander





The artist Nathan Selikoff is responsible for many of these images; drawing from mathematical algorithms into this ephemeral sort of digital abstraction.

Some of them have an inky, smokey osmosis feel.

"...the basic idea hinges on looking at what might be called "mathematical feedback loops"; expressions whose output can be fed back into them as new input, the way a loudspeaker's sounds can cycle back into a microphone and come out again."

Happy discoveries.......

Too Long To Twitter

"...You're grounded. No video games, no Tweetering - nothing electronic. It's desensitizing. Puts you out of touch with your humanity. You can't afford that."

-- Nancy Botwin, Weeds

Mastery

...of words, especially

A Tale of Two Cities

I saved you in my digital pocket, image of a yellow brick road
knowing time would show your right mind'd
idea, in words to curl round, unfurl
grow up from out
and now...
golden vines,
towards emerald ends are paved your lines
foundations down versus walls around
roads they're bridges,
between walled edges
within where wizards doctor answers
awaiting wayward footpad travelers



...Threads feeling worn more by today
an invisible tug of heart strings refusing decay
pulls testing resistance to life's little big questions
shots aiming at meanings made therein by weaving
bow looms add achieving derived from believing,
minus grieving over unknowing exactly
what is under.standing for what you're sewing,
that purpose in the fabric of our lives
each day its maintaining,
expanding in surface, structure-enabled non-framing
we upon it blanket leaves of grass déjà en root
for our picnics off the dark they feast.on stars, to them were offered up nursery rhyme dreams
of light, bright, first one I see tonight
North guiding, shifting good tidings from immortal black daughters
pass then through to dots of white sons
as needles in haystacks knit time's golden strings to thread,
each system dependent on the other over.turn does the wheel,
this rock's sun perpetual dial'd up
revolving motion forever once more

Relation Ships

“You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.

You shall be together when white wings of death scatter your days.

Aye, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,

And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:

Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other’s cup, but drink not from one cup.

Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf.

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping;

For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together yet not too near together;

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”

Khalil Gibran