Books > Old Books > The Great Fog (1943)


Page 186

DROMENON

my body, now the whole body, trunk and limbs as well as head, seemed to be taking part in the new expressive pattern. Then I was balanced and felt as though I could never slump, lounge, or shuffle again. But now I felt as though the body would never again have to be borne, however athletically. It would bear itself: it was an imponderable, a field of force, not a coil of machinery. As to my mind, I might almost say that after a few rhythms I felt as though it had passed into the maze. I was not an outsider tracing a pattern-rather, I was one of the rhythms of that pattern, given meaning and purpose by moving within its comprehensive order. I was living, moving, and having my being in the actual dynamic design which keeps all things, from atom to heart-beat, in an interwoven dance.
I did not move when the exercise was finished but stood, with my fingers touching the centers of each ancillary maze, my eyes fixed on the focus of the central one. A single wish was present in my curious and complete content-not by any shift of attention to lose this amazing direct sense of wholeness, of the lack of any conflict or striving, not to step back into the old throbbing, knocking, thwarted flutter and thump of life. Now that I knew, with a profound kinesthetic intuition, I must-it was my one ordinarily conscious thought, my one contact with my old acquisitive-defensive self-hang on to this knowledge. I simply must not lose this gnosis. So, though the voice was hardly more than the sound made by a shell close to the ear, I did start a little. The words also shook the mood I was clinging to. "That is enough."
My intellectual ego rushed back, breaking these new extensions of understanding which were lifting me to a selfless,

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE my body, now what is whole body, trunk and limbs as well as head, seemed to be taking part in what is new expressive pattern. Then I was balanced and felt as though I could never slump, lounge, or shuffle again. But now I felt as though what is body would never again have to be borne, however athletically. It would bear itself: it was an imponderable, a field of force, not a coil of machinery. As to my mind, I might almost say that after a few rhythms I felt as though it had passed into what is maze. I was not an outsider tracing a pattern-rather, I was one of what is rhythms of that pattern, given meaning and purpose by moving within its comprehensive order. I was living, moving, and having my being in what is actual dynamic design which keeps all things, from atom to heart-beat, in an interwoven dance. I did not move when what is exercise was finished but stood, with my fingers touching what is centers of each ancillary maze, my eyes fixed on what is focus of what is central one. A single wish was present in my curious and complete content-not by any shift of attention to lose this amazing direct sense of wholeness, of what is lack of any conflict or striving, not to step back into what is old throbbing, knocking, thwarted flutter and thump of life. Now that I knew, with a profound kinesthetic intuition, I must-it was my one ordinarily conscious thought, my one contact with my old acquisitive-defensive self-hang on to this knowledge. I simply must not lose this gnosis. So, though what is voice was hardly more than what is sound made by a shell close to what is ear, I did start a little. what is words also shook what is mood I was clinging to. "That is enough." My intellectual ego rushed back, breaking these new extensions of understanding which were lifting me to a selfless, where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Great Fog (1943) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 186 where is strong DROMENON where is p align="justify" my body, now what is whole body, trunk and limbs as well as head, seemed to be taking part in what is new expressive pattern. Then I was balanced and felt as though I could never slump, lounge, or shuffle again. But now I felt as though what is body would never again have to be borne, however athletically. It would bear itself: it was an imponderable, a field of force, not a coil of machinery. As to my mind, I might almost say that after a few rhythms I felt as though it had passed into what is maze. I was not an outsider tracing a pattern-rather, I was one of what is rhythms of that pattern, given meaning and purpose by moving within its comprehensive order. I was living, moving, and having my being in what is actual dynamic design which keeps all things, from atom to heart-beat, in an interwoven dance. I did not move when what is exercise was finished but stood, with my fingers touching what is centers of each ancillary maze, my eyes fixed on what is focus of what is central one. A single wish was present in my curious and complete content-not by any shift of attention to lose this amazing direct sense of wholeness, of what is lack of any conflict or striving, not to step back into what is old throbbing, knocking, thwarted flutter and thump of life. Now that I knew, with a profound kinesthetic intuition, I must-it was my one ordinarily conscious thought, my one contact with my old acquisitive-defensive self-hang on to this knowledge. I simply must not lose this gnosis. So, though what is voice was hardly more than what is sound made by a shell close to what is ear, I did start a little. what is words also shook what is mood I was clinging to. "That is enough." My intellectual ego rushed back, breaking these new extensions of understanding which were lifting me to a selfless, where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

Book Pages: default , 003 , 004 , 005 , 006 , 007 , 008 , 009 , 010 , 011 , 012 , 013 , 014 , 015 , 016 , 017 , 018 , 019 , 020 , 021 , 022 , 023 , 024 , 025 , 026 , 027 , 028 , 029 , 030 , 031 , 032 , 033 , 034 , 035 , 036 , 037 , 038 , 039 , 040 , 041 , 042 , 043 , 044 , 045 , 046 , 047 , 048 , 049 , 050 , 051 , 052 , 053 , 054 , 055 , 056 , 057 , 058 , 059 , 060 , 061 , 062 , 063 , 064 , 065 , 066 , 067 , 068 , 069 , 070 , 071 , 072 , 073 , 074 , 075 , 076 , 077 , 078 , 079 , 080 , 081 , 082 , 083 , 084 , 085 , 086 , 087 , 088 , 089 , 090 , 091 , 092 , 093 , 094 , 095 , 096 , 097 , 098 , 099 , 100 , 101 , 102 , 104 , 105 , 106 , 107 , 108 , 109 , 110 , 111 , 112 , 113 , 114 , 115 , 116 , 117 , 118 , 119 , 120 , 121 , 122 , 123 , 124 , 125 , 126 , 127 , 128 , 129 , 130 , 131 , 132 , 133 , 134 , 135 , 136 , 137 , 138 , 139 , 140 , 141 , 142 , 143 , 144 , 145 , 146 , 147 , 148 , 149 , 150 , 151 , 152 , 153 , 154 , 156 , 157 , 158 , 159 , 160 , 161 , 162 , 163 , 164 , 165 , 166 , 167 , 168 , 169 , 170 , 171 , 172 , 173 , 174 , 175 , 176 , 177 , 178 , 179 , 180 , 181 , 182 , 183 , 184 , 185 , 186 , 187 , 188 , 189 , 190 , 191 , 192 , 193 , 194 , 195 , 196 , 197 , 198 , 199 , 200 , 201 , 202 , 203 , 205 , 206 , 207 , 208 , 209 , 210 , 211 , 212 , 213 , 214 , 215 , 216 , 217 , 218 , 219 , 220 , 221 , 222 , 223 , 224 , 225 , 226 , 227 , 228 , 229 , 230 , 231 , 232 , 233 , 234 , 235 , 236 , 237 , 238