17 results for stemmed:quandari
Give us a moment.... The creative artist can be in somewhat of a quandary, according to his beliefs, for he wants to preserve the precious moment, the fleeting thought, the daffodils, the perceived insights. At the same time he often feels the need to stand apart from life, from the fleeting thoughts, the daffodils or the insight, so that he will not be lost completely in the moment, but able to form almost a second self with a larger viewpoint, who can then more clearly examine and understand the thought, the moment, or the insight.
The creative artist can be afraid of letting himself go completely in his life, for fear that he will become so involved that he will forget to stand apart, to look or to listen. Now to some degree that is Ruburt’s quandary, and to a lesser extent, your own.
Since you set yourselves such a course, then you obviously have a certain responsibility to both lives. They are your creations, after all. Almost all of Ruburt’s difficulty with time, and your own, spring from this basic quandary. For most people do not try that hard to preserve the living moment, or to understand it, while they are still involved with time’s physical package. Hence, to some extent your difficulties with “Unknown”—that is, with the notes—for you are trying to fit one dimension into another. A bold venture, and one that fits in quite will with your intents jointly to understand and preserve fleeting reality, and one that conflicts with your attempts to do this in the context of one physical time that passes.
[...] When you feel at the same time that you must and should plow the driveway out yourself, to prove that you are the same as your neighbor, or to prove that you are physically agile, and on the other hand if you feel that you do not want to plow out the driveway at all, then you are in a quandary—and when you shovel, you tell your body to shovel and not to shovel at the same time, setting your muscles against each other.
In such a quandary all you can do is add disapproval to disapproval, in some twisted hope that somehow some trust or love of the self will ensue.