Angry, let off some steam... Yo its Friday!

I like a lot of what Eckhart has to say, even though he reminds me of this guy...


I've studied Acting; so much of that has simply to do with being present in the moment and at ease with (almost completely un-self consciously) the vulnerability that may accompany it. Though of course, all acting is simply reacting, according to the knowledge of the 'self', or the character.

Babies and children know how to be present, though they also learn how to 'react' early on. Remember when we were young, and days seemed like a lifetime? - never-mind weeks, months, years...

The concept of the future, the past and time itself is of course something that we human beings have created in order to find order in what we call the universe; there is only now, and there always will only be now. I said this to a friend once and she looked at me like I'd removed the ground from beneath her feet - she is a mother and cares, plans and organises for her family - worrying about things is what she does.

The idea of letting go of the knowledge of who you think you are, were, ought to be can be incredibly liberating - to let that ego dissolve; it can open up limitless potential for who you can be.

When I was studing acting - I realised that there really was no finished article of who I think I am - I am constantly changing, as you are too.

I've pondered this line from Shakespeare's 'As You Like It' for a while;

'All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players...'

It makes me think that every new day we 'choose' who we are (and consequently how we react) - day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, second by second (what does it matter? - it is always now) we can really 'be' anyone we choose. What you define as 'you' is never constant.

Here's the full monologue (Shakespeare is amazing - sometimes better to read than hear/see);

'All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then, the whining school-boy with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden, and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice,
In fair round belly, with a good capon lined,
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws, and modern instances,
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.'

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/All_the_world's_a_stage

Anyway... music... anger... friday.. - s'all good!
 
Last edited:
You must log in or register to reply here.

New threads New posts

Back
Top Bottom