Theirs was then and remains even more today the stranger passion, the one little understood—or even comprehended as passion. Not erotic life, but the pleasure of the mind filling like the lower chamber of an hourglass with the slow-moving grains of a perfect day—sky, carnations, walking, reading, writing, Toasted Cheese, the presence of another who wishes to be so still, so silent too… It is possible to feel the fact of being alive as it breathes in, breathes out. It’s a life. It’s the life.
~ Patricia Hampl, The Art of the Wasted Day (Published April 17, 2018)
Image: (via Your Eyes Blaze Out)
it is, indeed.
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Reblogged this on It Is What It Is and commented:
Warm expression of human feelings … need to be together in mind and spirit!! The passion of another human being, together!
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P.H. is certainly a master of thought and penning words them…/// One should be grateful , armed with the right attitude to recognize the gift of a perfect day…in the slow lane, the passion of being alive, imprinted in each rhythmic heartbeat…
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Beyond all the obvious differences we in the West loved to tote up—our freedoms, their oppression—there was this beguiling whatever quality to social relations in Czecho, people hanging out, listening to music, cooking, slow coffee-drinking afternoons skimming into wine-drinking evenings, late, late into the night. The chuta life—cottage life—weekends tending gardens, lying low. Living.
~ Patricia Hampl, The Art of the Wasted Day (Penguin Publishing Group. April 17, 2018)
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Yes, the simple pleasures…
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Very heartwarming.
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You REALLY are into Patricia Hampl, aren’t you?! (and yes, I understand why!)
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Yes and YES!
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Something we miss. Like all other true pleasures of the self, we never take the time. We feel we always must fill the silence with words. I’m so much better than I used to be. It’s okay to be silent and just BE.
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Claudia, I’m still searching for that zone, right there…
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