John Cage: On bringing change.

Cab

“I noticed…you get into a taxi and very frequently the poor taxi driver is just beside himself with irritation. And one day I got into one and the driver began talking…accusing absolutely everyone of being wrong…and I simply remained quiet. I did not answer his questions, I did not enter into a conversation, and very shortly the driver began changing his ideas and simply through my being silent he began…saying rather nice things about the world around him…

My notion of how to proceed in a society to bring change is not to protest the thing that is evil, but rather to let it die its own death…I think we can state that the power structure is dying because it cannot make any inspiring statements about what it is doing. I think protests about these things…will give it the kind of life that a fire is given when you fan it, and that it would be best to ignore it, put your attention elsewhere, take actions of another kind of positive nature, rather than to continue to give life to the negative by negating it.” – John Cage

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Sons.

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“She lights a cigarette, leans against the counter and watches her son eat. This will be his last year in children’s sizes. He has his father’s head, his father’s way of eating steadily, neatly, the working of the jaw, the set of the shoulder and something about the eyes – though her son’s are brown – the same long lashes, and that open quality, the focused unawareness that is masculine innocence. She can almost see the face of the man emerging from that of the boy. Her gaze is a thing of substance. Between a mother’s eyes and her son’s face, there is not air. There is something invisible and invincible. Even though – or because – he will go out into the world, she will never lose her passion to protect him. Girls are different. They know more. And they don’t leave you.” –Ann Marie MacDonald, The Way the Crow Flies

Understanding.

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There is nothing greater than reading a novel, poem, article – anything really, and breathing the words so deeply, it’s as if your own soul has spoken. The urgency to bend pages, underline and highlight in an effort to remember – not just the words, but the feeling of being understood. It’s in those moments especially, that I’m in awe of  just how powerful language can be.

One of my favorite excerpts, from a favorite classic..

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Home.

Maya Angelou

I’m currently reading, Letter to My Daughter by Maya Angelou. Every single line touches my soul – her wisdom and talent is everything. A brief excerpt from the first chapter, “Home”..

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NITCH.

Dream

 

I recently started following this Instagram account and am so moved and inspired by each of their posts. This one, in particular, resonates with me..

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On books & writing.

 

Bookshelf

“What an astonishing thing a book is. It’s a flat object made from a tree with flexible parts on which are imprinted lots of funny dark squiggles. But one glance at it and you’re inside the mind of another person, maybe somebody dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, an author is speaking clearly and silently inside your  head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people who never knew eachother…A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic.” – Carl Sagan