I mostly write. Read at your leisure but remember that my posts are usually produced half-asleep and if you confront me for anything that came from me I will be surprisingly fierce and unforeseeably collected. Although I hope we will agree and you will have a good time.
213 posts
Latest Posts by bernatk - Page 3
Sometimes it is harder to deprive oneself of a pain than of a pleasure.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender Is the Night (via wordsnquotes)
In any case you mustn’t confuse a single failure with a final defeat.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, Tender is the Night (via honeyforthehomeless)
On Post-Holiday-Season Depression
I think many people are experiencing post-holiday-season depression now that we're past Christmas and are already in the new year. We've compressed most of our expectations, hopes and honest desires into a dream we thought would come true at this time of the year. I'm not saying that this week inevitably tumbled short on it because this typical sadness doesn't come from disappointment but from having gone through the whole thing without any of it contained--with only some material evidence, proving that it really happened.
With my girlfriend we have a little 4 years old tradition for Advent, where we make these heartwarming calendars for each other. One little surprise for each day. It's never really anything that amounts to a christmas present or something, just chocolate or tea or some small ornament (these from her and I wrote a novella broken up into pieces, one for each day). This tradition of ours isn't making this part of the year a huge, outstanding whirlpool of awesomeness. No doubt though, it certainly feels very nice and I'm always looking forward to it but it's not a big feat, really. However, when I run out of small packages I feel like crying. This routine of getting something nice for each day and giving something that I hope is encouraging, is missing terribly. For me its lack is so heartbraking that whenever I think about it I genuinly feel like crying.
The same applies for Christmas Eve, only on a bigger scale. That's the day, when my year reaches its climax. But it's gone. I still have my presents and memories but I couldn't hold on to the day itself.
New Year's Eve is also just a scar. It's a lot like sunrise or spring: a beautiful, romantic, shimmering start. Well, the promise of starting over again, which we humans can't help but believe in and to my greatest surprise it isn't completely baseless... New Year's Eve is a shiny, happy celebration most of the time but when it's past we're left with doubts about our convictions and hopes (ironically I've found this to be baseless).
When this part of the year is past and we're stripped from the air of sometimes loud, sometimes quiet ceremonialism, we can feel very low (surprisingly suddenly).
Often times I wonder if there's a cure for this sad state but I had the bitter revelation that there isn't.
When it's Christmas or New Year's Eve, or even when it's Advent, we may be gifted with something unearthly. I think these holidays allow us to see things we couldn't otherwise. And we're moving toward this transcendent greatness, only we don't always have the privilige of being lifted externally in addition to our futile efforts. These unutterable big things are what generally guide our imagination, when we're formulating definitions of everyday greatness and when we're trying to break out from the everydays.
I'm extremely sad by having all the celebrations brought to an end but I have my hopes intact and dreams unbroken--actually, I have them strengthened.
10 THINGS YOU MAY NOT KNOW ABOUT F. SCOTT FITZGERALD Brilliant, interesting and heartbrakingly familiar...
“I can safely say, on the authority of all that is revealed in the Word of God, that any man or woman on this earth who is bored and turned off by worship is not ready for heaven.” A.W. Tozer
Instead of condemning people, let’s try to understand them. Let’s try to figure out why they do what they do. That’s a lot more profitable and intriguing than criticism; and it breeds sympathy, tolerance and kindness. “To know all is to forgive all.
Dale Carnegie, How to Win Friends & Influence People (via yesdarlingido)
The Secret Life of ME
Ben Stiller's The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (2013) got some harsh reviews on accounts of being a cliché and of praising the sort of life that only a substantial amount of money can make possible. Some critics even say they'll graciously overlook these because Ben Stiller's just not that profound and we like him for his unique and entertaining humor, not his abstract thoughts. I watched the movie today and I was blown away.
I had quite low expectations because of the reasons above, and my intention was simply to watch something light and to relax. It was light, yes, and it was relaxing, true, but it wasn't at all as superficial as some say.
The title character, Walter Mitty, is a guy, who, after his father's death, became a responsible adult, who had to put aside his dreams and desires, in order to provide for his family and himself. He lived a life, where adventure existed only in the form of fantasies and daydreams. The movie is about his brave moves of going out to the wild and exotic parts of the world.
I admit, even in my brief summary it sounds like a cliché. However, what makes this movie extraordinary is there, among those lines. It's not the story of a man, who's just a little gray piece of paper (even one of the characters says that he imagined him as that) but someone with a past, with hopes and dreams and abilities. I can't stress abilities enough because that's a crucial point in Walter Mitty's greatness. He does the things that he can actually do and not the impossible. In an early scene we see him perform cool skateboard tricks and that's him, not his imagination, him. Now I'm not saying that someone has to be able-bodied or some such thing to live a good life. My point is that this story shows us a guy, who's coming from somewhere and goes on doing amazing things that he's had the potential to do all along. If he's an athletic guy, then it's a good thing he does things that require that.
Another important element of his character is that he wants to travel. You can say that everybody likes traveling and it's their financial states that prevent them from going to see the world. However, this is a misconception. I see people around me everyday, who say they wish they could go abroad and see this and that part of the world but in reality, they're afraid of people, who don't speak their language, they're uncomfortable with hiking, they hate spontaneity and so on and so forth. If pricey hotels with fancy rooms and fluent English concierges is what you want, then that's actually achievable almost exclusively through spending a fortune on it. If you want to see nice landscapes but only without breaking a sweat, here's tumblr, where there are endless photos that you'll be happy with and that's that. But if you're one of the few adventurous people out there, willing to jump in the ice-cold ocean, then you can do that on very little money.
My point with these is that looking at the events in the movie very specifically will make you say that yeah, it's pretty cool but no one can actually do that. But those specific events would take place in the life of that very specific Walter Mitty.
This movie is about the lifestyle that our generation has forgotten but even a hundred years ago it was the prevailing idea. And I remember that when I was seventeen I wanted to be a journalist and travel to the Sahara and climb the Mount Everest. I know, from my own experience, that abandoning these dreams won't erase them from the fabric of my mind, only I can oppress them with the new idea of life. But it's wrong. It's so wrong actually that my fear or reluctance to realize at least some of them has resulted in having me now with a poor heart, probably incapable of climbing the Everest but at the same time, a heart that's aching to do it.
My conclusion is that not all of us are adventurers or journalists and we shouldn't try to be the things we can't be, so it's not necessary to pretend we're Walter Mitty. However, figuratively, our generation's father died and we've become responsible. But it wouldn't be irresponsible to stop playing it safe and stop living petty lives. We complain a lot and believe all the crazy-labels that are put on all sorts of awesome things and I think these two things are on the top ten list of things that are wrong with people of this era. Let's try to change that.
Years ago my mother used to say to me, she'd say, "In this world, Elwood, you must be" - she always called me Elwood - "In this world, Elwood, you must be oh so smart or oh so pleasant." Well, for years I was smart. I recommend pleasant. You may quote me.
Elwood P. Dowd (Harvey)
He stretched his arms to the crystalline, radiant sky. “I know myself,” he cried, “but that is all — “
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Side of Paradise (via introspectivepoet)
Closing Thoughts
Considering everything I say I believe in, I'd be the greatest hypocrite to fight death. Obviously I'd be just as big a fool to give in to it, no doubt.
Last week, when I thought about dying, the first thing in my head was a list of all the things I haven't finished or haven't yet started. It seemed like my life was incomplete but that's just an illusion.
There's nothing that has to happen in a man's life and there's nothing I have to become or I have to achieve. The real necessities of life, crystallized and clear, are to love and to be truly God's.
Death is a frightening thing to face and there sure isn't an easy way to get through it. Don't get me wrong, I don't welcome it and I don't wish it but I'm at peace. Of course, I hope that I'll live for a good while longer but even now, I'm pretty full of love.
My Literal Heart
I envy one particular quality in sportsmen: their heart. I said this to quite a few people I know. It's ringing pretty well and it's actually true.
Today I was playing soccer with my friends. I'm a defender, I always am. We've been playing for about an hour and I failed to tackle the opponent, who had the ball. He shot but our goalie implemented a brilliant save. In the moment of the save, something happened in me. In my literal heart. It felt as though my chest was too small for it and all the blood in the world wouldn't be enough, flowing in my body. With my heart pounding madly, I stopped on the field. I wanted to catch my breath, I thought this sensation would pass but it seemed to be increasing. The one thing in my head was: I'm gonna die right now. I began coughing, fighting for air and I could stay on my feet but I could hardly move, let alone sprint from end of the field to the other. I walked off and sat down and looked at the ground, which was supposed to be green but it was gray. The players, the walls, the trees--really everything was gray. I drank and rested and the world's colors slowly crawled back. My heart was a lot more peaceful. I lay down to the ground and looked up at the sky. It was blue all right but I saw countless little dots, rushing nowhere but with great speed.
While down there, I contemplated my miserable state. Why do I have to be like this?! I didn't know whether it was something serious or something that just frightened me because it hasn't happened before. But I thought it was truly the most unfair thing in existence. Not because I'm a totally righteous person or I deserve to live. The reason for this was that I thought I haven't done my share. Not just the things that can make me happy in life but the part that I haven't walked to the end of the paths of my missions. I haven't done everything for the girl I love; I haven't put myself to service of the church; I haven't published anything; and countless other things. It would have been a very bitter death but I didn't die. My heart eventually calmed down, I'm much better now. Momentarily, rather ironically, I envy the very literal hearts of sportsmen the most.
I've been wondering what meaning this event may convey--if any... Maybe not many things just this: my life is not in my hands but in God's hands. And this, also, is very literally perceived. And I'm thankful that I'm alive and thankful for everything.
Writer's Block
As an individual, struggling to finish that big novel, I must say I have tons of ideas in the back of my head.
I want to write the story of a stubborn man, whose everything is knowledge. There’s also this monumental epic about the politician, who thought she had won victory for her case, when she just became another misguided dictator. I’d like to see my short story in print, in which the narrator finds himself facing some of the emotional obstacles that I do all the time, which make life a tough run for me.
I’d love to produce movies and short films that would explore the depths of human mind, of guilt and forgiveness, of love and letting love happen. I want to direct and write and play.
I would also like to take action in diplomatic matters and bring about peace and prosperity and freedom and the understanding and common acceptance of good things.
Oh, there’s so much I desire to do. I desire these things with all my heart, to the core of my being. But then I’m reminded that I’m just a youth, sitting before a computer screen, having his novel rest, unfinished, unsatisfactory.
I’m totally honest when I say that I’d put my heart in all my ideas that I shared above. I believe I could write some beautiful stories that would contain some of my truth. But at the same time it’s aching me that I can’t seem to finish my first beautiful and great thing.
I may be afraid, you know. As a matter of fact, I do feel genuine fear.
If I could send my novel to Fitzgerald, what would he say? He’d comment it’s not enough—that’s my fear.
If Hemingway saw the text, would he be satisfied? I’d just get a flap on the back and he’d tell me that I’m not brave enough and I don’t know what it takes to be a man or to be alive—really alive. Yes, this idea also seems pretty frightening to me.
And what would Bram Stoker think of my work? I can almost hear him say: well, it’s a curious piece and noteworthy in some respect, however, I’m not convinced it is of true value. Sometimes this fantasy keeps me up at night.
Oh, and William Dafoe, wouldn’t he be out of his mind to read this blasphemy? He could only say this: To say that it reaches its goal to cultivate good in people would be too much and to compliment it for mere form would only be a lie. This makes me quite terrified, too.
Maybe I’m not good enough as a person or as a writer, I don’t know. But maybe that’s the true potential in me—maybe an inadequate personality is what’s required for the job to be done and done well. I don’t really know.
What I do know and there’s no mistake, I’m certain, is that I must write it. And that’s what I’ll do. I’ll put my inadequacies, my fears and everything beside and complete the work.
It is my prayer to be made free and capable to write it.
it's a whole new level
ps: the alternate ending kicks ass
New video! EVERYTHING IS POSSUM! (took way longer to make than at first it would seem)
Don’t let people pronounce your name wrong - don’t let them see you walking home. Don’t let them see your mother in the playground, smelling of spices. Bite your lip when you see a white woman in the street wearing a shalwar kameez. ‘I’m on the way to a wedding,’ she drawls. ‘A friend got me this s-…this thing. Isn’t it pretty?’ I don’t know, lady. Tell me, how much do you care about the merchants who jumped to their feet and dove through reams of fabric to find the right one? Are you trying to tell me that I shouldn’t be angry that you’re wearing a garment I can’t wear without eye rolls and insults and, ‘fucking Paki. Go back to India, go back to where you came from.’ I was born here, and I’ve earned my place here. More so than you. I’ve had to work for it. I’ve had to know my shit countless times, be able to list off members of the government on both hands, talk this way, eat this way - my parents stopped sending me to school with rice so early because the other kids couldn’t fathom lunches that weren’t sandwiches. Can you even pronounce ‘shalwar kameez’? Let me hear it, I’m not convinced. I don’t know, my teacher had to ask me how to say my name three times this morning - and each time I said it she would repeat it slowly, squinting, as though it were made from a different alphabet. So I guess you could say I’m a sceptic. Wait. Is that a bindi on your forehead? Where’s your temple? More importantly, where were you yesterday when my Religious Education teacher was telling me how the whites helped educate the poor little Indians and that 1947 was a bad year for ‘us’? My country’s independence was the Empire’s downfall, and the Empire gave us nothing but pain. My grandparents were driven off the border of Pakistan and forced into poverty, and here was a person trying to tell me that the colonies that terrorised my family away, away from their homes and their cities and their loves, did a good thing. Where were you then? I see the henna on your hands, and I am here to say that my culture is not a trend for you to love this season and throw away - my heritage is not your excuse to be ‘exotic’. You are not welcome to pick and choose the attractive parts of being me. Take my mother’s bindi spot, take the unwanted advances of old white men that come along with it - they think we should be honoured to be hit upon by a white man. Take the henna off my hands, and take the sweat and blood of Indian workers trying to make an honest day’s work charging fifty rupees in the street to ice patterns on flesh. Take my sari, take my shalwar, take my lengha and take the low self esteem that growing up in a white society has given me. Take it, take it all.
it might be in this month’s ‘vogue’, but that doesn’t make it yours | ishani jasmin (via ishanijasmin)
I think it's very important to talk about this.
In today's world even the weak, the poor and the disenfranchised are empowered to speak and that's undoubtedly a huge step forward on the arc of history. Inequalities, in relation to representing ourselves, are being diminished. I mean it in the sense that the internet and the social media have given us platforms, where you can upload your content, even if you have far-from-professional equipment and an amazing number of people have access to it. On the internet people choose for themselves what kind of content they view or read or listen to, ergo people's inclination and taste are the major factors contributing to getting heard and not the wealth of content-creators.
After this rather lengthy introduction, let's get to the point.
As the poet's mastery cannot be argued, her point may be the more so.
Even the first issues mentioned are quite strange. How can an English speaker be expected to pronounce Indian words right? And this is a returning motif. I don't want to waste many words on this question but just say, the poet goes to Denmark and she can pronounce all the names properly? Is the source of this complaint that she can pronounce the English names perfectly and it's different the other way around? Is the part:"as though it were made from a different alphabet" suggesting that the Indian people speak identical to Americans? This whole issue may lead to something more profound and more light may be shed on the source of her frustration as I progress with my arguments.
I would also like to note that the poet is offended by white people wearing Indian traditional garments, without understanding that culture or caring much for it. I find this a very complicated issue and this might be discussed later, too.
The whole poem is filled with anti-imperialist, anti-white feelings and the words are very suggestive. They suggest intolerance, racism, cultural disrespect and such things, which surely originate from experience and a certain kind of environment.
If the poet's environment majorly consists of people, who behave uneccaptably, maybe it's really about time for her to move. I know it sounds bad to ask a victim to change, rather than changing the villains or moving them but in this case it's simply the better solution--of course I only mean this in a theoretical sense, not literally. I said what's above because America does not majorly consist of people acting and speaking filled with racism and/or intolerance. It may be said that certain studies--very reliable ones--show that most Americans have racist attitudes but--just as reliable--studies also show that despite those suggested attitudes, most Americans act and/or speak tolerantly and in antiracist ways. So if it is true that the poet mostly meets racism, intolerance, then she just so happens to live in an improbable place, but she could move almost anywhere and would be treated differently. But if she doesn't live in this very unfortunate coincidence, then it may be that she's the victim of a hurtful minority. However, if that's the case, and she's writing a poem about this smaller group of people, I have to say that it's not a tendency, much rather the ugly side of human nature, very similar to that part of it, which is called criminality; and it's not all right to commit a crime, as it is not all right to be racist or intolerant but it cannot be eradicated completely--quite sadly--but it will remain with humanity forever.
The poet suggests that white people don't have adequate knowledge of her culture, yet they exploit it. If a person is not a part of a given culture, he/she cannot choose to cherry-pick some of the attractive parts of given culture--argues she. It might be based on:
#1: the idea that people, who belong to her culture, have a certain narrative identity, which will also manifest in their culture. This identity brings a lot of pain and a lot of joy but for someone to ignore the pain and embrace the joy only, would leave the rest of the people with a very bad taste: that they have to live with the pain as well and it is an unfair thing for someone to experience their joy without having to experience their sorrow. This suggestion, however, is ignorant toward the fact that people from other cultures have their own pains, ones that may be entirely dissimilar but nonetheless serious.
#2: the idea that selecting attractive parts of their culture will spread an idealized, romanticized version of given culture, thus making the people ignorant toward the things they've suffered. For this to be true, it would also have to be true that these certain manifestations spread in a way that will affect how people look at Indian culture. It is possible that it forms people's views and they will, in fact, have certain stereotypes, romantic ideas about this culture but what must also be observed is that fashion does not take something else's place. Newspapers aren't afflicted by fashion clichés--they might be afflicted by other clichés but that's not the question. So if someone has an image, solely based on fashion's impact, then that person would have no idea at all without the Indian garments. The real question is: is it more detrimental to think about India as the place where there are beautiful clothes, than not thinking anything about India at all. As far as I can tell, they aren't very different in effect, since none of them will make anyone have hostile attitudes toward India and none of them will make anyone more friendly toward her.
#3: the idea that selecting the attractive parts of their culture will make the people subject to stereotypes. It is, of course, terrible to be looked at as already completely known, just because belonging to this or that culture. We demand to be seen in our full complexity and uniqueness and that seems to be our right to do so. What is not observed here is that people can't view others in their complexity, only a few of them, at maximum. So if a certain culture's stereotype will contribute to another stereotype that others are forming about you, it's not unwise to keep in mind that no one really is perceived as they are by the vast majoriy of people they meet. I know it's an important issue today to fight prejudice in the world but prejudice cannot be undone, and it is basically a mistake to oppose it; it originates from identifying prejudice with racism, which might be defined as a certain kind of prejudice but then, prejudice is just a certain kind of attitude, which we all have toward all sorts of things and there's nothing we have against that.
I'd like to mention how the poet discusses India's relation to the West. There's a nod to the general notion of America exploiting their cheap labor and the evil Empire that once ruled half the world.
#1: The US could have a better way of dealing with cheap labor, that's true, of course, however, she can't be blamed for the poverty in India. There's been economic struggle for a long time and its roots go back to social strife, which did not ease with the hardships of pathfinding in he second half of the 20th century, though it's been there even before that. And the way world economy has moved forward was rather hard for India to figure out and a lot of poor decisions have been made, which of course, don't mean that India would be responsible for all of the bad things happening there but it's still mandatory to consider that before looking at richer countries with contempt. And what's also important to see is that India's improving rapidly now and she's been on the curve going up for a little while now, so there's no need to look at her as a mud-hole of poverty, since her fate is not written in stone. And last but not least, not all Indians are browsing among fabrics. Truth be told, the poet isn't doing much for those merchants, either, just by thinking about them or being their comrade. Economic growth, unbuyest bureaucracy and clean politics could be of tremendous help to them and I hope we're going that way--at least as far as I can choose to do my work in favor of that.
#2: The British Empire was, before everything else, seeking her own interests in the world. It's understandable on one side and it means having India on the second place, at most, on the list of priorities, on the other side, which isn't ideal for India. Well, this is how it's easy to think about it but it isn't how it is. India's relationship with the Empire was very complicated with a large amount of both ups and downs on their way together, so it's always very hard to say it was good or bad for India. It was complicated. The poet referred to 1947, which was the year, when India became independent and also when she broke up into India and Pakistan. I don't know whether the poet's family was on India's or on Pakistan's side at the time of this affair but to blame the British for the bad things that happened then is completely nonsensical. When the Indo-Pakistani War, mainly over Kashmir, happened, and when immense crowds of people had to leave their homes because of things out of their power and interest, it was Lord Mountbatten, who had to go back with his forces, to a country, that had already gained its independence, only to try to moderate this humanitarian catastrophe. Even Nehru, the current leader of India at the time, saw it better to have the British forces there, which doesn't mean that their presence was absolutely good or absolutely bad, just that they aren't the disruptors of India.
The poet supposes, but never explicitly mentions, that there's white supremacy in he world, causing pain and turmoil all over the globe. It can be seen in her personal experience, in her narrative identity and from these we can have a general idea about the phenomena. But let me ask: is the poet right in her arguments? If we look at the people who liked her post, can't we see quite a few white people there? When people hurt her, oppress her, say racist things, does it happen because they're white? Are all white people like that?
It is plain to see that not all white people are disrespectful. I value the poet's poetry but I also value her culture, even so, I've chosen to learn about it, so that I could understand it more fully and not live in the world of dumb stereotypes. I respect the poet and I'm white and I know I'm not alone.
Just a sidenote: It would be out of this world to talk about the collectivity of white people, as we could discuss Hungary's* complicated relationship with the US. Hungary's not a rich country, the major difference between her and India would be that western people think India's more exotic but they'd probably consider them both quite alien.
This piece of poetry is full of thoughts and I know I've eventually failed to grasp them all and respond to them all. I don't mean to hurt the poet or say this verse is bad, as it is not. What I'm trying to do is to bring us closer to each other--I want us to see that we're not really that far away anyway.
*Hungarian people are also mainly white people.
Yay! Pop-art!
Someone saw this picture being the wallpaper of my phone and just said: "Yeah, but he actually isn't." That is a misunderstanding.
Descartes identified something self-evident in this statement. If I think, then it cannot be that I do not exist--to put it differently. But then, we can see that the man on the picture is really not there. His place is indicated but he's absent. However, that's the point: it is possible for everything to not be as it is, yet, as long as I think, I exist. And there's obviously no need to prove that because it's a trivial truth. If the man thinks, his existence cannot be doubted, even when it would seem that he doesn't exist.
But there's more!
Granted that if I think, then I am, everything else is contingent. And this image is smartly implying that regardless of the appearances, if and as long as I think, I am.
St. Thomas Acquinas said that everything is perfect that is. It is so because perfection is the most or ultimately desired state of a being. And for every being the most desirable is to be, ergo when something is, then it is perfect. But that perfection stands only inasmuch as something exists. Which means that every human being is a perfect human being.
What's not so easy to see in this, is that while every human being is a perfect human being, it applies only to their beings. So it's easy to understand that every person, not depending on their skin color or culture or language, realizes in their existence the perfection of human existence, that only leads to the conclusion that only in the fact that people exist are they perfect. That means that their actions may be imperfect, just the same, and that would not invalidate the thesis that they are perfect.
In summary, every human being, just because they are, realize the perfection that can describe a human being. So there are no inferior and superior people. Equality is thus, by the nature of things, granted, and any inequality, originating in the imperfection of one, is an illusion. However, that does in no way lead us to the conclusion that the content of any being is perfect. It is false romanticizing and a logical fallacy. Equality is naturally given because everybody fulfils the perfection conveyed in human existence but that is exactly how far equality can be talked of and anything beyond that line will not really be in relation to equality.
I'm glad that even as simple as a wallpaper can have meaning.
Diving Head First
What I want this post to be is a reminder for later times.
"6 Be determined and confident, for you will be the leader of these people as they occupy this land which I promised their ancestors. 7 Just be determined, be confident; and make sure that you obey the whole Law that my servant Moses gave you. Do not neglect any part of it and you will succeed wherever you go. 8 Be sure that the book of the Law is always read in your worship. Study it day and night, and make sure that you obey everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful. 9 Remember that I have commanded you to be determined and confident! Do not be afraid or discouraged, for I, the Lord your God, am with you wherever you go."" Joshua 1:6-9 GNT
I am standing up now and doing what my tasks are. I will keep on writing but with determination and confidence. I will also study and think as well as I can. I will run as fast as I can, do as many things as possible.
I do realize that the quoted scripture is not a promise given to me. It teaches the right mindset: when I see my mission, I have to be determined and confident. (I also realize that a mission can only be something through which I glorify the Lord and something that's focus is Jesus. Although it is not limited to the explicit forms of worship; it may take the form of art, for example (see also: Switchfoot))
It is highlighted even in the scripture above but it's also said beautifully as follows:
" 8 Physical exercise has some value, but spiritual exercise is valuable in every way, because it promises life both for the present and for the future. 9 This is a true saying, to be completely accepted and believed. 10 We struggle and work hard, because we have placed our hope in the living God, who is the Savior of all and especially of those who believe." 1 Timothy 4:8-10 GNT
It is the spiritual ground, where I must be standing firm before anything else and only from there can I move out to do anything.
So let this day be remembered and may purity, love and humility toward God be the things marking the way.
