Dear Friends, maybe it’s time to clarify the phrase “Sancho is a hard one” (paraphrasing the words of the song in the link “Sancho does not die”), meaning “Sancho is a tough guy”.

Firstly I dedicated this beautiful song because for me it is like that, beautiful…it seems not enough to push one to find out the meaning of the phrase, googling a bit; I didn’t find the translation on permanent link but using Google Translate I got it and put it below.

I linked it in response to PM after that he felt ungenerously criticized by me.

The song is inspired by Cervantes’ book (I have not yet read it), the refrain says “for love only for love”. This identifies me as interlocutor, my intentions in saying something that may have hurt someone. In fact, before, I thanked PM for his sharing too.

Specifically, Sancho (the grounded one) is thought/dreamed by the author (R. Vecchioni) in love with Dulcinea while he’s complaining of Don Quixote, to whom he is a servant, he (DQ) being in search of glory against the windmills, to win the heart of the same Dulcinea.

“Sancho does not die” alludes to the hope that the grounded love, having deeper roots than the “dreams” of the actions we do towards the glory (in this case our writing/reading egos), could survive to the dream, emerging with real sorrow.

Certainly the thing sounds a bit labyrinthine, at least three levels overlying (book, song, dream, author).
But all this stuff is to say to PM: i’m sorry if I hurt you.

The song: ‘For love only for love’, by the “master of the dream”, RV.

Girl we are lies along the time
hanging like leaves to the Mistral wind
you were not born yet and I already had you in me
like tonight, in this house of Alcazar
but more beautiful to have you it is when I draw you
nothing has more reality of the dream
the world does not exist
the world is not true
and I dreamed of me

For love, only for love
of my eyes, my words
with rotten fruit between the hands
with the woman that there is no tomorrow
For love, only for love
for the lost child on the stairs
as support if the legs are shaking
to see where the others look
no, Sancho does not die

I fought the heart of the windmills
with a crazy old man who pretends to be me
I loved Dulcinea along other hundreds
I sang for her, but why?
In a land of shadows between the earth and the sky
Now I dream of you

For love, only for love
of my gestures, my words
the nights that I confuse them together
and the wine, lazy river in the veins
For love, only for love
of the face that can not return
of the star that can not fall down
Your hand does not know how hold me anymore
For love, only for love
I always played to amaze
For love, only for love
behind a veil that you can not cross
For love, only for love

Hug,

VF

(Please tell me how to find the sharing you did here years ago).

Ok, the point is that just before I had used the same “xxxxx” to simulate precisely that censorship, so no homophobia on my side, nine years in the uniform at least teach goliardery*.

Unfortunately, despite your compliments that I take as sincere, after having sent to hell the beloved MOD, the spell-checker service HE was giving to my comments is interrupted (or maybe there is no relation between the two things) and this exposes me even more to the continuous attack of the red ass bullies (baboons).

This means that what I have to share is not worth the effort of the reader to look beyond my limits of linguistic expression. I do not really know which of the two things, form or substance, creates this situation, or if both things, or what Sam (the soul of SN) would say on it.

No drama, it’s fine an online literary circle that talks about the world of the most iconoclastic of the Masters, I just found the paradox that to make of his iconoclasm a dogma creates a special kind of priesthood, utter self-annihilation, a regardless rebel, a spiteful cynic, a monkey precisely.

In an Italian political forum I’m arguing about the opportunity or not to use in our field of socialist commitment categories like Friend/Enemy by Carl Schimitt. After I have found his “political ontology” a nihilist device I suggested that it would be better not to use it, imho, because the existential level comes first, before the intellectual one.

I also shared the difference of Nietzsche’s nihilism, which sets the stage of the New Man.

All these conflicts here are perhaps due to the confusion of the two levels. But in the end, for me it is ok, even those who look at Osho as a teacher and pragmatically uses his method to have a bit of fun or literary glory, if it is all about this then it is sad, but sadder would be for me spend energy to strike monkeys. Baci.**

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CnVf1ZoCJSo

MOD:
*goliardery:
According to Webster’s Revised Unabridged Dictionary: The satirical or ribald poetry of the Goliards.
According to Century Dictionary and Cyclopedia: A series of Latin poems written in the thirteenth century, satirizing the abuses of the church.
(ABOVE INFO THANKS TO Madhu. WE’D NEVER HEARD OF THIS WORD, THOUGHT IT WAS SOMETHING IN APPROPRIATE Veet HAD CHOSEN!).

**Baci: Kisses.

@Prem Martyn
Thank you for sharing with me the other aspect of what you have shared before, I felt your heart in it.

If you’re following the latest events that bless my new entry here you can easily understand that I do not like cynical judgments in my house, by my people. If it happens I have to ask myself if this is my house or if they are my people, or both the things.

Love (Sancho is a hard one)***.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sQb-pPL3yMA

VF

MOD:
*** Veet, WE DIDN’T QUITE GET WHAT YOU MEANT IN YOUR LAST POST (UNPUBLISHED). PLEASE EXPLAIN EXACTLY WHAT THIS REFERS TO, IE WHO EXACTLY IS Sancho AND WHAT YOU’RE TRYING TO SAY HERE. OTHERWISE, WE’LL JUST DELETE THIS BRACKET.

Not guilty, Your Honour!

From

The Right and Honourable (at least on this occasion!) Ashok

I like it!
Been promoted, have I?
Dunno ’bout all this business with the love letters tho’…
Hope you’re not getting fruity, are you?

Merry Crimbo!

Wish you a beautiful time in Egmond with the friends up there. I don´t travel any more for felt eternities… (The place in Egmond I only visited once in 1984; didn´t feel to repeat it).

All the best for you, and let us know here @caravanserai , how you are doing, will you?

With Love,

Madhu

Clarissa Pinkola Estes

a PS to my morning response( just to show him and others , what is a role model for me , and what NOT ( like some of your responses coping or quite often NOT coping with your own pain, or the pain of others:

“On 15 November 2015, two days after terrorist gunmen attacked the Bataclan theatre in Paris during a concert by the American band Eagles of Death Metal – in which 89 people died – Antoine Leiris wrote an open letter to his wife’s killers on Facebook. At the time, he had no idea of the effect his words would have: “On Friday night, you stole the life of an exceptional being, the love of my life, the mother of my son, but you will not have my hate. I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to know. You are dead souls.” He would not, he added, give the terrorists the “satisfaction” of hating nor of fearing them: “You want me to be scared, to see my fellow citizens through suspicious eyes, to sacrifice my freedom for security. You have failed. I will not change.” And he added that his baby son’s happiness (Melvil was 17 months) would continue to defy them: “Because you will not have his hate either.”

Antoine Leiris (2015)

Recentlely I have been asked ( by Ashok?), why I started to post here ( at all).
Energetically that was connected with a bashing energy and the contempt some of you spread in abundance.

I´ve had the imagination to be able to meet friends of sannyas realms and friends here. Putting stuff up the communication UK SN boards, which neither have, nor are easy to digest und take . And to disolve.

I belong to a scar clan , how Clarissa P. Estes names it. Most of you also do, that´s how I percieve it.

And I have not been a miser these few years try to share quite open and personally my issues about what Parmartha defines as ´calamities´, former ones as present ones.

There´s nobody , who is free of the need of support. Interdependant we all are.
( Antoine as well , who shared with millions , what he had to address to – how he put it ´dead souls´- as well as addressing sentient beings)

And I admit, that I am in need of human support. Interdependant like we all are

No ´island and not habituated on a island.

Madhu