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What is it about literature that awakens the imagination in a way that pales real time interaction?
When I read Charlotte Bronte's "Jane Eyre" or Leo Tolstoy's "Anna Karenina", I’m transported not only in time, but in a world more alive than my own. How can I describe it? How is it that some are able to activate such vibrancy, clarity, intimacy and mystique all at once?
Feeling Intuitives seem to have an uncanny need to view common life through an uncommon lens where words are articulated/excavated from the inner recesses of the heart. It refreshes us to examine the sub-currents because we all have conflicting emotions, thorny family issues, joys and sorrows, the whole catastrophe of irony and bliss.
Why is life in real time superficial and rarely satisfying? Daily interaction seems dull in comparison, because we often have to wear a mask to survive. The problem with faking up our personality is that we wind up transmitting somebody different from who we are. Sadly, people go through their whole lives never learning how warmth and love actually work. The interactions leave us empty.
What does the unbeaten path of contemplation look like to you? When do you get to express the Shakespearean soliloquies of life? With whom are you able to share the passion for the subtle and often overlooked spiritual realm? Whom can you relate to that has an open and interested attitude that promotes both nurturing and emotional fitness?
When I read Charlotte Bronte's "Jane Eyre" or Leo Tolstoy's "Anna Karenina", I’m transported not only in time, but in a world more alive than my own. How can I describe it? How is it that some are able to activate such vibrancy, clarity, intimacy and mystique all at once?
Feeling Intuitives seem to have an uncanny need to view common life through an uncommon lens where words are articulated/excavated from the inner recesses of the heart. It refreshes us to examine the sub-currents because we all have conflicting emotions, thorny family issues, joys and sorrows, the whole catastrophe of irony and bliss.
Why is life in real time superficial and rarely satisfying? Daily interaction seems dull in comparison, because we often have to wear a mask to survive. The problem with faking up our personality is that we wind up transmitting somebody different from who we are. Sadly, people go through their whole lives never learning how warmth and love actually work. The interactions leave us empty.
What does the unbeaten path of contemplation look like to you? When do you get to express the Shakespearean soliloquies of life? With whom are you able to share the passion for the subtle and often overlooked spiritual realm? Whom can you relate to that has an open and interested attitude that promotes both nurturing and emotional fitness?
