taasfen.blogg.se - Imagine sisyphus happy

“one must imagine Sisyphus happy” as “The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.” Returning to the above myth, there is a very famous quote by Albert Camus that is related to this myth. I feel remarkably fulfilled by everything that I’m doing, but I’ve forgotten to make room for play. I just mean that I’m living for the future, but the future can never arrive. Why am I working so hard? I should be taking the time to really enjoy my life, instead of working for an end that I will never achieve. Today, as I was walking to work I stopped myself and asked the following question: Why? “Ugh” my inner self bellowed as I struggled to calm a pounding headache while sitting in front of my computer at Blenz Coffee Shop, “If only I didn’t have to sleep, maybe then I’d be able to get to the bottom of my list.” I haven’t made myself and my sanity a priority at all. I really haven’t left any time for me time. If you add on the cleaning and cooking, and other projects and necessary errands – my life is pretty busy.

Writing in this blog – my goal is to write 4-5 posts a week.

Writing one article every 2 weeks for the “Capilano Courier”.

One of these workouts is the Spin class I teach every Thursday Night.

Exercising 5-6 times a week (this will turn into 9-10 times a week once training for my 1/2 marathon begins in February).

Going to Acting School 20 hours a week + Homework (an additional 8-10 hours a week.

I broke it down, here’s what my life currently looks like: After finishing my homework last night, I collapsed on the couch and threw on some “Modern Family” before letting my head hit the pillow at 12am – my earliest bed time this week. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE being busy… but sometimes a girl just needs a break. I have been feeling tired and overwhelmed with everything that I currently have going on in my life. 3 times this week I have rolled out of bed at 7:55am… I need to be out of the house by 8:20, so this is really pushing it. – Doing my morning pages on the go, instead of actually getting up earlier and taking my time with them. I was getting into some bad habits, and falling into a head space that was not serving me. I have decided to take this week off from the Artist’s Way. This is a Greek Myth that was discussed in my class a few night ago, and I think it is an excellent way to open up the following post (I’ll return to this myth in the end). Every time he would reach the top, the boulder would roll down again. C.Sisyphus was a King who was punished by being made to roll a huge boulder up a hill. With startling imagery and unerring tonal shifts, the poems slide into minor keys of lament, rueful truth, keen-edged question and self-critique, chord changes that lay bare the good griefs and the bitter, the doubts and small mercies that shape the lives of men and their gods. Beginning with a solo speaker, the voice expands into a chorus of multitudes. Evans has created a meta-pause of toughened lyrics that consider how a man has lived. In poems of insight, wit, regret, and humor, R.G.

January O'Neil, author of Rewilding Imagine Sisyphus Happy is a blues set of middle age reckoning. Evans "is trembling there at the summit just before the rock rolls down," and we want to be right there with him, flesh to stone. Evans walks to the edge and crosses over, giving us a glimpse of the extraordinary in the ordinary: elegy flowers, the smell of fresh-cut hay, a neighborhood 7-11, the steadiness of animals, cypress trees, and stars. These poems look back on personal history, on life and loss, on triumphs and failures-the secret language of the blood. Evans in his wondrous new collection, Imagine Sisyphus Happy. Laura Boss, author of The Best Lover and editor of Lips "We are always between angels," says R.G. If your name isn't carved into it, it's your lucky day.

Yet, astonishingly, these are poems that transcend weathered emotional brutality and are poems that celebrate survival as in "Lucky" If you want to feel lucky, take a look at a stone. I can't think of another poet so unflinchingly candid in facing our darkest demons with a wild combination of irreverent existentialism fused with fierce tenderness, especially in his father poems His range is vast -from mythology to family poems. Evans explores with rare skill poems that remind us how at times (even briefly), we have all been aware of what it was like to be Sisyphus.