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As we live, we are transmitters of life. And when we fail to transmit life, life fails to flow through us.
That is part of the mystery of sex, it is a flow onwards. Sexless people transmit nothing.
And if, as we work, we can transmit life into our work, life, still more life, rushes into us to compensate, to be ready and we ripple with life through the days.
Even if it is a woman making an apple dumpling, or a man a stool, if life goes into the pudding, good is the pudding good is the stool, content is the woman, with fresh life rippling in to her, content is the man.
Give, and it shall be given unto you is still the truth about life. But giving life is not so easy. It doesn't mean handing it out to some mean fool, or letting the living dead eat you up. It means kindling the life-quality where it was not, even if it's only in the whiteness of a washed pocket-handkerchief.
David Herbert Lawrence
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Read poems about / on: woman, work, truth, people, life, women
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David Herbert Lawrence
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David Herbert Lawrence
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Muna Bilgrami
(3/19/2009 10:30:00 PM) |
Recently rediscovered Lawrence while trawling through some old diaries. Forgotten what a genius he was and how utterly relevant, torchbearer that he is of the search for meaning, truth and authenticity. 'Transmission' really spoke to me today - chosen almost at random from the list here because of the title as this word is used a lot in the Sufi teachings that form the bedrock of my life. Right now 'kindling the life-quality' really speaks to me, as that is what I'm trying to do, with my own version of the laundered white hankie. Its the simple things that matter. The spirit vested in them. So much more meaning than the sum total of parts. Nurturing and loving... the giving is indeed the receiving, though its not always apparent when or how. Sometimes of course its instantaneous. Love it!
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David Herbert Lawrence
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