Stop all this weeping and swallow your pride;You will not die, it’s not poison.—Bob Dylan, “Tombstone Blues” (1965)
Another great music thread in the offing, Ben. I immediately thought of this one about getting over ourselves from Blood on the Track: "Buckets of rain, buckets of tears, got all these buckets coming out of my ears; buckets of moonbeams in my hand. You've got all the love, honey baby I can stand!" To which I might add a phrase from the psalmist, paraphrasing a bit, 'Weeping may spend the night, but joy comes in the mourning.'By the way, my favorite line from Tombstone is: "the sun's not yellow, its chicken." Now that's genius!
"...You will not die, it’s not poison." Ah...but you will. - Steve M.
"Poison" - as in Derrida's pharmakon?
I always feel quotations like this are a bit like the old rhyme:Sticks and stones may break my bones,but words can never hurt me.I can't decide whether that one is true, either.Yours in Christ - JOHN HARTLEY
And maybe when we know experientially that on our owns we only make a mess, then swallowing our pride becomes acknowledging the truth, and then it's not poisonous at all.Great quote, thanks.-Ann
God bless the mistakes that whet the appetite.
I'm so tempted to make a crude reference to a pop culture colloquialism, but I shall resist - for now.Anyway, swallowing doesn't necessarily mean you get to digest it. If the ego has a stomach, what does it really digest, hmmm? Where is the large intestine and the colon?So, if we do swallow our pride, where's the toilet? By swallowing our pride does our ego commit cannibalism? Or does something else get involved and take of the digestion issues?Love of God, Love for God = vitamins for the ego, nourishment for the soul?Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
In a similar vein:From "Gravity", by A Perfect CircleLost again, broken and wearyUnable to find my wayTail in hand, dizzy and clearlyUnable to just let this goI am surrendering to gravity and the unknownCatch me, heal me,Lift me back up to the sunI choose to live...I fell again, like a babyUnable to stand on my ownTail in hand, dizzy and clearlyUnable to just let this goI am surrendering to gravity and the unknownCatch me, heal meLift me back up to the sunI choose to live...I choose to live...I choose to live...
"Like a Rolling Stone" takes pride as its target. "Now you don't seem so proud About having to be scounging your next meal", i'e., having to swallow your pride. Conceit is from the Latin for conceiving, conception. The fall of pride is the death of thinking too highly of onself. It's difficult to conceive of such a thing.
John Hartley: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.James 3:5 Even so the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great things. Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth!
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