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I'm wondering what is considered "the sun" in our real world?
Edited: Err there're ppl downvoted for asking this question? I were wondering if there is any limit in real life you can think of that can be considered "the sun", if you misunderstood something or simply just be "unZen" :P Well anw I'm cool ;)
The same is true of Failing and Flying. But, fools rush on. Bring on the downvote fools. As they say, you can't fix stupid.
Oh! I'm so happy and surprised to find a Jack Gilbert poem anywhere. He's amazing.
See more: Are We There Yet? Terry Crews, Coy Stewart, Teala Dunn Are We There Yet ?
"The Abnormal is Not Courage" is my favorite poem. Some of the words have always stuck with me, and when I find something challenging or drawn-out or briefly disappointing, I often find myself thinking "The beauty that is of many days. Steady and clear." It's a nice reminder that in my work and my relationship and my goals for myself, I want the calm that only comes from real patience and commitment - the ability to see what I have in its truly magnificent wholeness rather than what it may look like at any given moment. There is so much braveness in knowing that something demands a giving of yourself - putting in not just work and time, but your vulnerable heart - and still coming back to it, day after day, with kind eyes. Steady and clear.
"The Poles rode out from Warsaw against the German tanks on horses. Rode knowing, in sunlight, with sabers, a magnitude of beauty that allows me no peace. And yet this poem would lessen that day. Question the bravery. Say it's not courage. Call it a passion. Would say courage isn't that. Not at its best. It was impossible, and with form. They rode in sunlight, were mangled. But I say courage is not the abnormal. Not the marvelous act. Not Macbeth with fine speeches. The worthless can manage in public, or for the moment. It is too near the whore's heart: the bounty of impulse, and the failure to sustain even small kindness. Not the marvelous act, but the evident conclusion of being. Not strangeness, but a leap forward of the same quality. Accomplishment. The even loyalty. But fresh. Not the Prodigal Son, nor Faustus. But Penelope. The thing steady and clear. Then the crescendo. The real form. The culmination. And the exceeding. Not the surprise. The amazed understanding. The marriage, not the month's rapture. Not the exception. The beauty that is of many days. Steady and clear. It is the normal excellence, of long accomplishment."