#Openness

[suliqyre]

The most important thing is not to give up… You have to keep observing, absorbing everything that happens, leaving nothing out. You have to keep asking questions and pushing your investigation of yourself and the world further, without end. You have to keep experimenting, attempting what has not been attempted, and going beyond whatever rules or beliefs you have accumulated.

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[philosophybits]

Through laziness and constancy the mind keeps to what it finds easy and attractive; this habit is constantly limiting our knowledge, and no one ever takes the trouble to extend his mind and lead it as far as it could go.

François de La Rochefoucauld, Moral Reflections

[thirdity]

What is frequently appreciated in many so-called symbols is exactly their vagueness, their openness, their fruitful ineffectiveness to express a “final” meaning, so that with symbols and by symbols one indicates what is always beyond one's reach.

Umberto Eco, Semiotics and the Philosophy of Language

[ksjanes]

As we experience this big blue space, we begin to have this feeling of openness, limitless potential. We get a sense of timelessness as we connect to this vast open space. We can get the impression of accommodation and inclusiveness. This can include us being less afraid of circumstances and less frustrated or upset. We end up  with sensing that there is more than enough space for our thoughts and emotions as well as others thoughts and emotions. With this sentiment space can bring comfort to us in times of trouble as we  recognize that even our troubles and the chaos  in our lives arise and pass away within the blanket of our awareness of space.

K.S Janes

[serenityquest]

[in-tenebris-et-in-solitudine]

[angelaeleni]

Whenever I feel blocked or stuck, I start to ask myself these questions through my day:

How can I be the most loving person to myself and others?

How can I keep my heart open?

[suliqyre]

To be open to the world is to embrace all of its parts. It is to accept these parts not as separate possessions but as new components of my own being. I grow with every new addition. But are there also limits to what I can be?

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[philosophybits]

Attention consists of suspending our thought, leaving it detached, empty and ready to be penetrated by the object. It means holding in our minds, within reach of this thought, but on a lower level and not in contact with it, the diverse knowledge we have acquired which we are forced to make use of. Our thought should be in relation to all particular and already formulated thoughts, as a man on a mountain who, as he looks forward, sees also below him, without actually looking at them, a great many forests and plains. Above all, our thought should be empty, waiting, not seeking anything, but ready to receive in its naked truth the object which is to penetrate it. All wrong translations, all absurdities in geometry problems, all clumsiness of style and all faulty connection of ideas ... all such things are due to the fact that thought has seized upon some idea too hastily and being thus prematurely blocked, is not open to the truth. The cause is always that we have wanted to be too active; we have wanted to carry out a search.

Simone Weil, Waiting on God

[eelhound]

"We can’t question reality directly, only by questioning our conventions, our belief, our orthodoxy, our construction of reality. All Galileo said, all Darwin said, was, 'It doesn’t have to be the way we thought it was.'"

- Ursula K. Le Guin, from her blog entry "It Doesn’t Have To Be the Way It Is," June 2011.

[happydazy82]

Tea Time Emotiku

OPENNESS, 02/10/2025

I open my heart / with a desire to be known / and also to know. © keefderpoet, 2025

[heart-songs]

The one where I confess that I am unapologetically soft

how my heartbeat mimics the wind, invisible but far-reaching. With gossamer fingers I braid my hair, brew the tea, knead the bread. On obsidian nights, I gather dried lavender and listen for the willow. I have cradled newborn heads on the crest of my collarbone patched wounds with rose petal kisses, unwound the deepest of aches with worn-out denim and bare skin. I have carried the dead, cried my weight in tears. I am soft, and my hands are small but I would hold the sun for you, blister ‘til you no longer wish to be a burn. I am soft, and my voice is softer. It was made to breathe poems into the scruff of your neck to lay the ghosts of your worst fears to rest eternal. I am soft, and we are only a moment but my love will linger long after the willow stops weeping.

- Cora Finch