Do you want to drop yourself?
But then upright and alert.
How it goes on?
A conversation at the moment.
Only one conversation at a time.
The theory is always innocent.
That's crucial what practice made out of it.
Heike Thieme
Impressum
Copyright
Der vorlie gende Text wurde mit größter Sorgfalt bearbeitet. Die Publikation ist urheberrechtlich geschützt. Alle Rechte liegen beim Autor. Kein Teil des Buches darf ohne schriftliche Genehmigung des Herausgebers in irgendeiner Form durch Fotokopie, Film oder andere Verfahren reproduziert werden. Auch die Rechte der Wiedergabe durch Vortrag, Funk und Fernsehen sind vorbehalten.
BoD - Books on Demand GmbH, Norderstedt
ISBN: 9783746046266
Did we have the word, we had the speech, we didn't need any weapons. Only those who use the favorable winds, did know where they are going to. Revolution does not eat their children. But she leaves the garbage to them. The dead stay with a message. Their killers have a story. Dead civilians on the edge.
In the context of a speech, silence must ultimately be seen as disturbing, rather than helpful. The truth of what is said lies in the unspoken, between what is said. Religiously inspired people find that truth is reduced to the extra-linguistic, and attention focuses on the relativity of a statement.
Another opinion forms promptly.
Silence appears multifaceted, perhaps stressful, oppressive, icy, embarrassing, deadly, concerned, dull, eloquent, deep, demanding, mysterious, etc. Ambiguities can make the process of productive interpretation, there is a clash of competing meaning of language. It is art to be silent in such matters at the right time.
The word is a dangerous thing and rarely the right one on such occasions. Pronounced how one deals with the thing, religious and philosophical principles belong to the pudendis. They are the roots of our thinking and our will - so they should not be put into spotlight.
What would argue against treating silence as a symptom to be eliminated? Silence should be regarded as normality within people cultivate their relations with their speech. Pathos is more astonishing about silence, passions are usually associated, as long as you took the otherwise unnoticed into consideration.
There could be told of a logic of passions, of a rhetoric of silence that ignites in a source of trouble.
The main character in this novel is called Gerrit.
She is still young and impetuous. That wildness and temperament never left her alone, she bits through, that challenged her from first beginning.
She notes on her way, the necessary sympathy and the urge always to steer forward, to be helpful, instead of falling back, even in the saddest moments, she has a few friends who can sympathize.
She excites the darkness of her past with flying thoughts and works to understand life and to clarify the unspeakable, to find on an exciting journey to her personality, to become the one, who sees light at the end of a tunnel. She notes among her best friends the job of every autonomous person. No one could call her a layman.
Nobody could turn the switch that forced her in any other direction that she did not sympathize. The world steps aside to let someone past who knows where he is going.
Gerrit tells life a welcome with openness. Watching the game that crosses the paths, or a horse that seems to be waiting for her watching the scene.
Gerrit knows, not to think for a reason, this is dangerous – but to think for many reasons. Nothing matters but the quality of affection - in the end - that has carved the trace in mind.
She knows that it was only the laity who would not receive a harvest thanks. But she wants life, so she gets lucky and a happy ending on top of it. She runs through life, to discover the world and chases with her dear friends, the winter always at the door.
She simply tells herself that those who are not unhappy in the end simply have luck left.
Since self-proclaimed human rescuers have to profile themselves to develop their own and self-designed theories, or to try out existing, closely knit and erroneous therapy patterns on children, this is actually about theoreticians who serve their ego, who let off steam on the defenseless and finally earn their daily bread.
Gerrit tells herself that what is possible, is what is.
What is not, it is possible.
Only what is, can't be possible.
If you open your window to the other possible, you find a living free will.
Even if the conservative dimension wants everything to stay.
She knows to become wise from life and lets her thoughts wander.
In her fiction of new worlds she invents a new future.
She knows appreciation in words, ....
You would come across it in peace,
if you want to find me, then in my word.
It's me, spring,
that will lead you to your happiness.
And when you see dancing
in the summer evening sky,
while others dance softly in flamenco,
then I look at ...
I still see you!
Mathematicians invent the ever-existing world and describe it as something compact on the basis of the formulas. Engineers just approach the laws and try to put them into practice, with simplified equations that approximate by exchanging some precision for more practicality - following the 'approach' is 'just enough' that brings us to Mars.
Way up in the north, people meet mentally, if at all. If there is one among them who gets dirty, no one helped. But to tell a fantastic story needed a good mind.
Sometimes the outsider also has advantages. For example orphan children find the opportunity a place to stay in homosexual relationships.
Why shouldn't an orphan child have same social opportunitys, to develop or find own ways in the world outside inside a free gender familiy?
Since 30 years genetic research it was longest thought so far, that it is not necessary, to beget children, if orphanages are full of kids!
All of them suffer from visual defect and dark thoughts.
In it pain and fascination contain the suffering of others. If they only could see ...!
Man isn't corrupt. He can't compete. Man isn't universal. He's everything and he's nothing in one.
I say this with both feet standing on the ground!
Abuse is crime. The perpetrator is the one whom one held for a friend. This results in the feeling of guilt. No child has to forgive his parents!
How easy it is to understand. We are a bit of everything and everyone. We are a single human race, which only behaves bad side by side. The whites take a boat, around 'n round he destroys the world. Then he doesn't take anyone else into it to save humanrace?
Is that sociability?
No one hears their voice and language. Almost everyone wants to cast his voice into world. Yet nearly none of them is suited to the companion!
If money doesn't make you happy, you don't know where to shop. Don't educate your children to be rich. Educate them to be Happy. So when they grow up, they will know the value of things, not the price...!
How many people does it take to create an assumption of normal? Two. Each agreeing with each other in compromised consensus.
What shall men and women do, if all the bees and birds have died?
I tell you what, then all of us will starve to death!
Your music sends Feeling of Love and it equally finds the right words for that - Thanks for the help within our children growup!
We live in a world filled with impositions of social convenience, at the dramatic cost of personal excellence.
Do not believe in the fairy that one who took you by the hand, to give you future and to be there for you forever, no matter what.
I say, if I think it right, friends may remain. Better late than never!
And I do not need this whole theater about virginity.
I have been a friend to some very rare friends in my life for a long time. Friends that I found came to my life to help, always as one, and it fits us perfectly.
Even with a friend you can get old. For he has all the happiness that one can dream of, and everyone can play a very special part in his life.
If nature finally gives you, what man shied away from, you are close to the perception, that people didn't play a big role in nature.
The Child is a lovable person with lots of talent.
If you put a muzzle on, it didn't make any difference, this child won't find out, what could be love.
Gerrit's childhood was overflowing energy, was undeniable an energy she could gather to escape her home as much as possible.
She then used to hide in the farthest corner of the orchard, behind the house on a cherry tree, until air vanished. Her imagination run in those quiete moments, when either mother pursued her with the rolling pin, or father with the riding crop or the dear sisters threatened her with the kitchen knife. Yes, she also had siblings, how it had to come to these two, did not resemble her at least.
Gerrit was an eternal thorn in their eyes. They cheated Gerrit on her place in family because they were mother's pride. The two daughteres busy to grow up in a self-made castle, protected from all unfamiliar occurrences, some who considered to be suspect, like that one sister knew, she had to stay outside, themselves embodied the flower, in the form of a proud rose that towered over everything, unreachable to those who could not immediately reach.
Both were about to attend their wedding soon. And most of all, they had a devoted man by their side, who was adept at doing business that the sisters hardly had to work in lifetime.
Gerrit was so out of style ...
Her mother once gave Gerrit three little books. On each stood a maiden name, a booklet each for a daughter. She should read what mother had recorded. She told her, this was the authentic sayings of earliest time that her mother had written for posterity. So she read ...., her eyes were sure to open, and read what her sisters said about her when they just begun to speak.
'That's just filth, throw her in the bucket and throw it away! '
Gerrit often sat in the cherry tree.
In his thick branches she felt safe. She knew she would have to grow up a little earlier, and was strongly advised to leave to be far from that evil energy, to become encountered in her dreams, what self-responsible life was called.
She asked herself -
I don't sing sweet songs, because lyrics are forgotten too fast.
If one praised for patience, do you think god gives him patience or does he give him the opportunity for patience?
If one praised for courage, you think he is courageous because god gives him the opportunity to be courageous?
What if one praised for familiy, do you think he has the absolutely warm funny feelings or he has got the opportunity to love each other? This world ... has no start in smiles with happiness. But I welcome you with openness. I suspect that a way back is not going wrong.
Gerrit meant honestly, everybodies love was also for the moon, which prepares in the sky for the early morning to look at nature.
The game that crossed the paths, or a horse that seemed to be waiting on the other bank. Gerrit didn't judge anyone. She was easy with young people. She listened to people without anybody telling how to do it. It was easy to say who deserves and what he does not deserve. But it was a special thing to help someone back on feet. If all the world were so dubious like her familiar experience, the women would stand and chill on ice.
They loose by time getting old. Physical limits touch on emotional.
When time runs away, the fear of it - what do the others think?
These women had to realize, the biological clock is running out, panic is waking, left back hating their childhood. Some did not catch a man, ... when they had not celebrated a horse wedding, but they would like something supraregional!
Gerrit concluded from who she begrudged.
Whom she would just give out a coffee, read like everyone else in the newspaper and was informed about life. One can never know, and one has to be prepared!
A Nordic poem, she liked very much. -
The thin shines, de pussy gries,
the sky is blubbering, and one is suffering.
Her bedroom was so yawningly empty, and she never knew what time one of the others might force into her room, when she did not expect it. That scared her a lot. She preferred to sleep under her bed because no one could find her in the dark.
She looked at her father several times, who thought he was unobserved. He picked thick, fat, white butterfly caterpillars from berry bushes and laid them on a stone. Then, with relish, he began cutting them straight in length with a knife. It gave him obvious and sadistic pleasure as it seemed.
The mother was too happy to loll about in the living room coach, and let her unloved daughter play tender classical piano concertos for well. She thought, she deserved relaxation every day.
That's why music had its benefit.
A dear uncle, who was already known to have a high interest and love for children and already tried to persuade the older cousins to a bit of sex. Then daughter Gerrit could be lend from time to time to the dear uncle. It was all in the family.
To do her father a favor, she should run three times a week in the long-distance run. How much he fought for the future of his daughters, or how much he worried about their success...
Gerrit reached the edge of resilience, once totally collapsed, with feverish nightmares in middle of the day. In retrospect, they called it a first nervous breakdown. When she got upright again, things went on and everything was tacitly demanded of her, everything to the limits of her capacity.
'You can not leave the house unless you wear your brown pants!'
'You made yourself dirty. Now you stay in your room for the rest of the day. '
'You have a face like a TV, just as square and big.'
'You do not have to show your tears. We know you're a too sensitive person on top. '
'You are so nice to all people. Only you will never show us that you love us. '
'Go ahead to your room, or should I make you legs? I'll be right back. '
'You are not ticking right. You should start thinking before you start a thing. '
'You are a thankless daughter. Don't think you would find your way back to us, when you are gone. '
'You will not have a chance in life.'
'Your father makes more lawyers any time to lock you up forever, he lacks as a respectable citizen until the velvet noon day, he has not enough persuasion.'
'You'll have to come back to your father one day.'
'Don't dare to tell around, your father had abused you.'
In order to reach love of these parents, they first had to offer them the head of a lover, then would the form of perfection love have proved themselves - Salomé.
These were people who stood on their own two feet.
But what did they want from their own daughter?
However, it was guaranteed that a slander and false palace, like this would start to wobble. That was the weather forecast, .... In their eyes, one was a little closer to the sun when he destroyed one's life.
No, blood flowed, none could guess from outside. What was father's fault? Was his wife the inspirational, leading source?
Or the fact that, he was just a simple locksmith in the municipal arms factory, that paid him an engineering salary, in between his manager was a tolerated Nazi criminal?
Trivialization and repression have always been the masters of arts. Outwardly he appeared as a flawless Democrat, and the only worry was his own well-being. So the witnesses at home was silence, and polarizing in the environmental nothing. This was the black sun within an entire family.
The variant of shame of a caliber of her class. So you would be reluctant to share a beer that confidant with these people?
Gerrit seemed to be tough. She has always been open to new things. It was her whole attitude. She walked out every day, to be open to new things, which meant courage to survive to endure blows and still go beyond borders.
She began the journey in her own personality, which later on found