Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘define’

20141123

In aphorism on 20141123 at 23:55

【As a Tree 】
Be as a tree. A tree that stands strong, no matter the wind or rain or the sun’s strong rays. For the wind does not define a tree. For the rain does not define a tree. For the sun does not define a tree. A tree stands tall -firmly, simply, rooted in soil. A tree offers leaves to summer winds and but bare branches to winter winds. A tree awaits the coming of the rain and waits out the drying of the rain. A tree receives of the sun and returns again glory to the earth. A tree is a tree and no more, despite the elements and despite their absence. Be as the tree and stand strong -despite what may, and despite what may not.

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20111215

In aphorism, proverb, rumination on 20111215 at 23:34

Ability, without acting on the ability, is perhaps a greater disability than to never have had the ability.

If another is in need, and I do not help -I have so wasted an opportunity to exercise my ability, and in doing so, I have given up my ability. I am without ability.

A few create the system.
Many perpetuate the system.
Some work the system.
Too few challenge the system.

History shapes us.
Culture enables us.
Humanity entitles us.
Choice defines us.

I am as much a product of my own choice as I am of genetics or environment.

20111016

In aphorism, proverb on 20111016 at 23:22

One’s past reflects one’s priorities, just as one’s priorities will forecast one’s future.

Erase prejudice; rewrite perception.

Others’ perceptions of you do not define you.

Truth is not a trend.

Beware the thief who steals with your consent.

Where growls a sheep, feigns a wolf.

Delusion is a choice.

《Invitation》
Activity: Life
Invitee: You
Venue: World
Time: Now
Participation: Optional

20110301

In aphorism, poetry, proverb on 20110301 at 20:15

To satisfy an urge is elementary; to create desire is the grail.

To meet demand is rudimentary; to create demand is legendary.

A confession made to another is not without an admission made first to the self.

Words read, speak to the imagination;
Thoughts spoken, touch the heart;
Feelings expressed, define the voice.

An epiphany is a revelation of sight to the seeking.

The opposite of fragrant is not foul, but insipid.

A stone is but a jewel’s throw away; a jewel is but a stone’s throw away.

The fool keep the stone and so lose the jewel.

Covetous is cowardice.

A star shines despite the hour or the audience.

The heart transcends
a thousand places, lo, the feet occupy
but one.

The quantifiable may be counted, but lack opposites; the qualifiable possess opposites, but are not to be counted.

20100220

In aphorism, proverb on 20100220 at 15:25

Accept. Appreciate. Compliment. Support.

A judge is but a gavel-handed hypocrite.

Underestimating leads to overlooking.

To define success absolutely is to ensure absolute failure.

Who governs with a heavy hand bears its burden.

Where a garment conceals, in absence it reveals.

The hand to seize is not free to receive.

20091107

In aphorism, idiom, proverb, rumination on 20091107 at 14:30

[on BELIEF and ACTION]

It is possible to know one’s beliefs by looking at their actions, but it is impossible to know one’s actions simply by looking at one’s beliefs.

For belief is different than action, and rare is the person who acts according to his or her professed belief.

Humans are mortal, by definition, and know for certain very little about things immortal.

Hypothesis and superstitions, often termed belief, aim to simplify what is supernatural, i.e., what is not of this earth.

One’s beliefs cannot change reality, they cannot explain the past or define the future. At most, a belief may shape the present, and only our actions can agree with our beliefs.

If our actions do not match our beliefs, then it is only the present that we disgrace in the name of the future.

A belief which does not match our actions is but another’s, whose existence is never real enough to call our own. In this light, it is only possible to say that actions exist and beliefs are as only as real as said actions.

The action which differs from belief must relinquish any ties to that belief, for they are separate, they are an ‘other’ unto each other.

A fool professes a belief and guides not his actions to follow. The wise guide their own actions accordingly, and in doing so, set forth a belief which no soul can dispute, as it is backed with action.

20090925

In aphorism, proverb on 20090925 at 14:07

Words are spoken with limits defined; silence permeates, no boundaries to build or ever tear down.

20071014

In question, rumination on 20071014 at 13:52

With every utterance of control, there is an ego born of pride, of false knowing and incomplete understanding.

For as much as we control, so are we controlled by that which is around us. As much as we analyze this process, even more so do we become a part of it.

It is sheer ignorance, if the naiveté of humanity, that permits even us to step outside of that which consumes us, that which is a part of the whole, and is the whole itself. That we might suggest that our will is not its will, that our error is not its error.

It is another arrogance to say that our error is but its error, to deny our actions on its behalf.

For all that began with nature will again end with nature – that is, entertaining the contrived concept of a beginning and an end. All that meets the eye is but a piece of the whole, the whole being a cycle of which there is no witness of a beginning and without certainty of an ending.

Our eyes see with limited sight. Our minds breathe with limited life. It is this inability to conceive of that which endures all, that which is all – that defines our being a part of the process – and not outside of, beyond, or above all.

How closely tied is our instinct to our adeptness. For it is our instinct to learn, to grow, to adapt. And so, mankind has, and will, continue in a way that always will.

Why does the sun differ from the moon? For the same reason, or lack thereof, that we are not mere beasts. We are no different, though our tongue speaks not the same.

However superb we elevate our humanity about the robin, still we know not its thoughts.

Might we entertain that its thought leaves ours behind, that it lives in a world to which we are but a busy simplicity, ever concerned with fabrications of an imagination cultivated? But we do not know what the robin thinks or even wills.

If there comes a day when we do see eye to eye with the skirting robin – will we be prepared for such complexity, as we now understand not?

Is it possible that we, too, may evolve in a parallel way, and as such, these two days may never coincide as one? So the robin and man, ever in watch, ever to question, never to know.

It is this longing and lacking that drives the cycle and leads us only to tomorrow.

We are never a farther step from today.

Note: Access to WordPress  is still blocked within China. Without access to a much appreciated VPN (proxy), I would be unable to publish to my blog from within mainland China. Thus, I am blessed and grateful to be sharing. With every post, I hereby protest the oppressive nature of the Chinese government blocking access to any part of the web.

20060131

In poetry on 20060131 at 23:10

《the sex of poets》

The sex of poets emanates –
flowing as without edges,
contagious as without knowing;
words play
back and forth –
a rhythm, ever changing,
follows whereby one leads
until the pull of the next.
One moment
as without definition,
nor clearly sided with neighbors –
rolling one to the next.
Beckoned without call,
it is from a distance that
one sees deep into the heart
where life seems both
to stop and start, again –
without pause and
with the haste of lovers
kept at bay, unwilled.
The words sear clear,
sharp and pure.
They exist alone,
and yet are fed
by the hunger of ideas
yet tossed,
yet exposed –
as if the virgin ever lived
within the eyes of the soul;
forever waiting,
forever with hunger –
fresh as the moment to follow.

The sex of poets lingers
past the setting sun
into the morning dew,
where one knows not for sure
if the climax be truer
at the final release of
thoughts never felt, – or
perhaps at the time
of response; the
lover’s words, a compliment,
meshing with, as if one.
Almost beyond a reality,
the words live on
to dance without end,
to breed a careful song –
as if in tales of lore,
existence never certain.
Fleeting, though strong;
Skirting, though present –
The moment speaks not
of tangible truths
that speak of tomorrows,
but rather the window
rarely looked into –
it is there
it is waiting,
but cannot be taken with you,
nor fed to the mortal –
only to continue
in the souls of lovers –
perhaps truer than
the love of lovers itself.

The sex of poets preys
upon the passion saved
over years and decades
desires of the flesh
never satisfy the wound
of ages past
of pains neglected
merely masking in mum
the yearning ever mounting
to release with a single
sound
The silence is broken,
fears relinquished;
the rebirth of hopes
fills the air –
thick with the essence of now
and hint of next,
never to be sure.
The bliss lies within,
ever longing.
Separate worlds entwined –
an affair of the id
within…
Never lucid to the searching,
but in control.
When no longer logic bids you
surrender, at last call
with bursting souls;
hungrier still, the eve –
power of the word
has finally come, the time.