The coffee, to speak of, talk of the coffee... that ever used source of inspiration, that way to start whatever. I don't think I should, I mean, fall like everyone before in that cliche, there must be some kind of purpose that compels everyone else, everyone now to stay out of this same path all. No, not the coffee, a tea perhaps?
Here I am sipping from and old mug enjoying an old tune in the radio. The weather is warm and the leaves are gliding from the trees. You are guessing Autumn, good guess. a joyous time in men as it is on earth.
Some old french music filled the room, scattered notes from a piano made me turn inside, make a pause and sip the tea.
Track change, a diversion, merry tunes. A heartbeat, my own? The rythm in everything is easily appreciated in solitude, banned from fostering dreams. This music again and it starts.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Friday, May 25, 2007
Formerly Know VII
He oversaw the whole landscape before him, it was a huge symphony of lights conducted by the sun, shadows were dancing to its tempo and animals seek shelter among them. The wind was cool, the sky was broad and clear.
He sat down gazing life with all splendor, shifting moods rapidly, joy, sorrow, anger all were there. And deep inside him he started to realize that every emotion is made of everyone else, joy is anger as strength, is sorrow as reflection. Joy is life for all of them. Realizing this, he cherished them all as equals, neither rejecting nor summoning them. And Bliss showered over him, as he realized the truth of his heart and therein the truth of the world.
Everything was quiet, peaceful, just a gust of wind whistling trough the trees. A great oak sheltered him, his sword and sleep. My eyelids are lead, but my mouth is quicksilver, so he smiled and snored.
Far from there someone was watching with his piercing eyes, and casted a greater shadow that nigh upon him.
He sat down gazing life with all splendor, shifting moods rapidly, joy, sorrow, anger all were there. And deep inside him he started to realize that every emotion is made of everyone else, joy is anger as strength, is sorrow as reflection. Joy is life for all of them. Realizing this, he cherished them all as equals, neither rejecting nor summoning them. And Bliss showered over him, as he realized the truth of his heart and therein the truth of the world.
Everything was quiet, peaceful, just a gust of wind whistling trough the trees. A great oak sheltered him, his sword and sleep. My eyelids are lead, but my mouth is quicksilver, so he smiled and snored.
Far from there someone was watching with his piercing eyes, and casted a greater shadow that nigh upon him.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Essays
Man is a warrior. Warriors are men. But there is a frequent misconception of the true meaning of being man, of being warrior. That is why we sometimes think not all man are warriors. But I tell you, all men are warriors and if he is not a warrior then he is not a man, they are synonyms.
But man is not born this way, the warrior must be created and in the end as a strange paradox, you will see the warrior was all the way here, it was within you. The warrior must become so he knows it has been for only a warrior recognizes a warrior.
And then again you might ask if you are somewhat curious what is a warrior. Is he a soldier? Is he an overcomer? Is he a fighter? We tend to associate a warrior to violent or bellicose activities, to destruction or aggression and these, in fact, may be a part of the warrior behavior and being, but are not exclusive for him nor are they decisive in his definition.
Warrior is the spirit of fire. The state of fire, the flame within is what turns a human into a warrior. Human is our birthright legacy, our definition and name as the top specie of animal evolution. But it is just there as a to serve as a container, a vessel to ignite and keep burning that which cannot be extinguished. What cannot be extinguished cannot be ignited either, thus the reality of the flame is that it has run through time since eternity.
A warrior is a man of peace, for peace only comes from strength, war comes from weakness. A warrior can afford peace as a man with nothing to prove, nothing to achieve. But until he realizes let there be war, let there be struggle.
Approach to ultimate perception of reality is approach to reality itself, for reality depends entirely on perception and though it might or might not be itself by itself. Total subjectiveness is total objectiveness.
But man is not born this way, the warrior must be created and in the end as a strange paradox, you will see the warrior was all the way here, it was within you. The warrior must become so he knows it has been for only a warrior recognizes a warrior.
And then again you might ask if you are somewhat curious what is a warrior. Is he a soldier? Is he an overcomer? Is he a fighter? We tend to associate a warrior to violent or bellicose activities, to destruction or aggression and these, in fact, may be a part of the warrior behavior and being, but are not exclusive for him nor are they decisive in his definition.
Warrior is the spirit of fire. The state of fire, the flame within is what turns a human into a warrior. Human is our birthright legacy, our definition and name as the top specie of animal evolution. But it is just there as a to serve as a container, a vessel to ignite and keep burning that which cannot be extinguished. What cannot be extinguished cannot be ignited either, thus the reality of the flame is that it has run through time since eternity.
A warrior is a man of peace, for peace only comes from strength, war comes from weakness. A warrior can afford peace as a man with nothing to prove, nothing to achieve. But until he realizes let there be war, let there be struggle.
Approach to ultimate perception of reality is approach to reality itself, for reality depends entirely on perception and though it might or might not be itself by itself. Total subjectiveness is total objectiveness.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Formerly Known V
What am I?
Am I the boy gazing at the rose, or the rose being gazed at?
Am I the body in the stream, or the flow storming down?
Am I the start of the infinite worlds or the end of the only one?
Those questions, tainted my innermost pysche with doom and treachery, inflexions of my latent madness. Mad is he who knows he es bound by fate, he realizes truth inside destiny, we are nothing but puppets of eternity, not owners even of ourselves. Madness is the cure of letting loose the chains of misery called sanity. The knowledge of slavery is the key to freedom.
Only great men are mad, may be it's not my call.
I'll be relieved from this cross, from this weight, in your wings my dear. In your wings.
My body dirty, rotten, son of causality and casuality. Virgin is my spirit as before the first of days. Bow, your head on my shoes, your lips kissing, your hair falling. Realize yourself so you never again serve anyone, until you do... bow down and lick my boots.
The old man thought and spoke in suck ways, and he had a profound trust in this young girl. She seemed like his passed away daughter, but then again, much stronger. She was born in the same day Lizzy (his daughter died) throwing in his face the irony, mocking on the ancient bastard.
Her death set my free... I am old (but not venerable) and I want to be chained again.
That is one of a thousand things that do not keep me awake at night.
Such was the scene, the bearded one with gold hair at his feet, and an atempt being born in a knife and a hand.
Am I the boy gazing at the rose, or the rose being gazed at?
Am I the body in the stream, or the flow storming down?
Am I the start of the infinite worlds or the end of the only one?
Those questions, tainted my innermost pysche with doom and treachery, inflexions of my latent madness. Mad is he who knows he es bound by fate, he realizes truth inside destiny, we are nothing but puppets of eternity, not owners even of ourselves. Madness is the cure of letting loose the chains of misery called sanity. The knowledge of slavery is the key to freedom.
Only great men are mad, may be it's not my call.
I'll be relieved from this cross, from this weight, in your wings my dear. In your wings.
My body dirty, rotten, son of causality and casuality. Virgin is my spirit as before the first of days. Bow, your head on my shoes, your lips kissing, your hair falling. Realize yourself so you never again serve anyone, until you do... bow down and lick my boots.
The old man thought and spoke in suck ways, and he had a profound trust in this young girl. She seemed like his passed away daughter, but then again, much stronger. She was born in the same day Lizzy (his daughter died) throwing in his face the irony, mocking on the ancient bastard.
Her death set my free... I am old (but not venerable) and I want to be chained again.
That is one of a thousand things that do not keep me awake at night.
Such was the scene, the bearded one with gold hair at his feet, and an atempt being born in a knife and a hand.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Formerly Known IV
- What a vicious gratitude you bring here my little one, you pay kisses with blood, and gifts with sorrow... What is in your heart my precious one that makes you hate me above everything?
- ... you think everyone is like you, you can't see farther than your nose, quit bugging me, quit harresing me, go look somewhere else, someone else.
- Your mouth says something completely different than your soul, both are speaking but I choose to listen to the last one.
- ... go away, just go away and never come back, can´t you just understand? I don´t love you and I'll never will.
- That is your broken heart, your fears speaking not you. But if that is your wish, who am I to change the flow of a river, even if it goes to crash on the rocks? Enough is enough. Take care.
An he left with a wound in his chest, the first and last in this battle, he felt strong though and the injury easily healed, but he was in a situation like never before.
- When I was weak, I knew exactly where to go, what to do... I used to stare hipnotized the road ahead with the conviction of that sooner or later I would reach the horizon. But know, that I am strong enough to walk this path, or any to that case I am clueless, without direction (or with all directions at the same time). - He thought, and he continued as he took off his dark hat and put it under the arm - The path has made me strong, but I don't know... shall I keep walking? this path seems worthless.
And she remained there, with her stale face and cold heart looking at him, with great anger and confusion, like a flame in her last breath, she fought. She was alone, not because she wants to, she is because she does not know how to do otherwise.
This fight was fought before, now I am finally triuphant and victory tastes rather bitter.
After all, we are just children pretending to know.
- ... you think everyone is like you, you can't see farther than your nose, quit bugging me, quit harresing me, go look somewhere else, someone else.
- Your mouth says something completely different than your soul, both are speaking but I choose to listen to the last one.
- ... go away, just go away and never come back, can´t you just understand? I don´t love you and I'll never will.
- That is your broken heart, your fears speaking not you. But if that is your wish, who am I to change the flow of a river, even if it goes to crash on the rocks? Enough is enough. Take care.
An he left with a wound in his chest, the first and last in this battle, he felt strong though and the injury easily healed, but he was in a situation like never before.
- When I was weak, I knew exactly where to go, what to do... I used to stare hipnotized the road ahead with the conviction of that sooner or later I would reach the horizon. But know, that I am strong enough to walk this path, or any to that case I am clueless, without direction (or with all directions at the same time). - He thought, and he continued as he took off his dark hat and put it under the arm - The path has made me strong, but I don't know... shall I keep walking? this path seems worthless.
And she remained there, with her stale face and cold heart looking at him, with great anger and confusion, like a flame in her last breath, she fought. She was alone, not because she wants to, she is because she does not know how to do otherwise.
This fight was fought before, now I am finally triuphant and victory tastes rather bitter.
After all, we are just children pretending to know.
Friday, November 03, 2006
Heldlow
I open my eyes, they are dry, they always are, open my mouth and it is dry too. I just had good 8 hours of sleep, sleep full of nightmares. I am starving again, well not "again", I am always starving no matter how much I eat. Food tastes like paper, any kind, all food is like garbage in my mouth.
Water gives me a few seconds of relief, but to few as it seems to evaporate in my throat. Colors don't shine or sparkle and are barely different... All seem greyish and pale. Shadows overcast themselves at all corners, day has little difference from night.
I can barely walk and my spirit is weak, it has almost surrended, my will has faded in the tears of madness and laughs of nonsense. Sounds are either barely perceptible or so loud they make my ears bleed.
I walk a few steps to my broken mirror. It casts a reflexion on my eyes like if it were my soul, broken and set apart. I comb my hair with my hand, spit on it to hold my hair thight. I dress again, this clothes irritate my skin leaving it sore and itchy. I walk through the door.
Two steps and doesn't matter. I am attacked by two men and I am only able to mumble... Thank you. A hit in the head, I'm unconcious, really not much less concious than before.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Universes I
God, is everywhere, in you, in me... By the rocks, everywhere... Not even the slightest piece of existence is lacking God. All is him, him is all. Time, space, matter and energy are one of his manifestation, void, eternity, infinite other ones. Movement and stillness, fluctuation and calmness you can't speak, think or imagine anything that isn't God.
Omnipotence is not, if it is limited by something including itself, that doesn't mean it is a raw unrefined force, quite the contrary is the most powerful yet more sublte thing in existance, for it is as we already talk an aspect of it, or a way to see it. And to say it is something I am not trying to define it because it is undefinable, I am just trying to put it in a way that we can speak of it. It is not bound to the limits of existance either for that would also be a limit, it is then also not existance, both and neither.
I was talking with a friend (who almost finishes his degree in physics) that questions about time, space, matter and energy are doomed to be confined in our mind spectrum inside the universe's territory. How do we compare how are we able to say that something exists? The implicit way, the uncouncious way is to compare it to nothing (with the numbers is the equivalent of knowing that the 0 is everywhere, adding or substracting itself from any numer) . We know that something exists because there are an infinite number of things that do not.
Infinity then is the same thing as non existance, infinite universes is the same thing as no universes at all. If you have a blank page and start writting endlessly on it, it will turn black. It is the same with a different quality.
Infinite recursion, or the eternal return explain this same thing in the dimension of time. If everything that is possible and unpossible (yeap, I am Ralph Wiggum) (for posibilities are created inside the universes, outside this word completely lacks sense) posible and imposible are related to cause and effect this are related to time. Where there is no time or all times are toghether possibilities do not make sense.
Speaking of what is inside our realm is at least irracional when dealing outside. What was time before the Big Bang? What caused it to happen? In where is it in expansion? Nonsense. But be not fooled by this, if you find it irracional or ilogical is because your mind is not used to think in this way, may be it is not able to handle this. It will bring you to a mental breakdown, madness or the good Nirvana.
Buddha said things were impermanent, Nirvana means extintion, where was the flame before it was lit, where is it know that is not here? But I say nothing ever happens how can it be impermanent. Or that everything is always thus it is permanent. Everything happens all the times in an infinite ways of happening. Nothing is gone and nothing has come. This of course speaking of the big picture. Zen negations are used to negate what it isn't to help us realize what it is, but if everything is negating anything is misleading. Of course I understand (well I think I do) why is that, and it is the only way it could be done.
Omnipotence is not, if it is limited by something including itself, that doesn't mean it is a raw unrefined force, quite the contrary is the most powerful yet more sublte thing in existance, for it is as we already talk an aspect of it, or a way to see it. And to say it is something I am not trying to define it because it is undefinable, I am just trying to put it in a way that we can speak of it. It is not bound to the limits of existance either for that would also be a limit, it is then also not existance, both and neither.
I was talking with a friend (who almost finishes his degree in physics) that questions about time, space, matter and energy are doomed to be confined in our mind spectrum inside the universe's territory. How do we compare how are we able to say that something exists? The implicit way, the uncouncious way is to compare it to nothing (with the numbers is the equivalent of knowing that the 0 is everywhere, adding or substracting itself from any numer) . We know that something exists because there are an infinite number of things that do not.
Infinity then is the same thing as non existance, infinite universes is the same thing as no universes at all. If you have a blank page and start writting endlessly on it, it will turn black. It is the same with a different quality.
Infinite recursion, or the eternal return explain this same thing in the dimension of time. If everything that is possible and unpossible (yeap, I am Ralph Wiggum) (for posibilities are created inside the universes, outside this word completely lacks sense) posible and imposible are related to cause and effect this are related to time. Where there is no time or all times are toghether possibilities do not make sense.
Speaking of what is inside our realm is at least irracional when dealing outside. What was time before the Big Bang? What caused it to happen? In where is it in expansion? Nonsense. But be not fooled by this, if you find it irracional or ilogical is because your mind is not used to think in this way, may be it is not able to handle this. It will bring you to a mental breakdown, madness or the good Nirvana.
Buddha said things were impermanent, Nirvana means extintion, where was the flame before it was lit, where is it know that is not here? But I say nothing ever happens how can it be impermanent. Or that everything is always thus it is permanent. Everything happens all the times in an infinite ways of happening. Nothing is gone and nothing has come. This of course speaking of the big picture. Zen negations are used to negate what it isn't to help us realize what it is, but if everything is negating anything is misleading. Of course I understand (well I think I do) why is that, and it is the only way it could be done.
Size also speaks of perception not of reality, some string theories, say that the 10th dimension is contained in the first one recursivity, so it is in fact (if this is true) a self contained totallity in which the biggest is inside the smallest, vibrating chords that make the subatomical particles are the theoretical 10th dimension in which all the other 9 are contained.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Tarantella
Sunset
hiding star
all your light
is fading away
Noon
orange dye
wind blows apart
some withered leaves
Moon
you are
a shinning star
light of sky
Night
quiet force
keeper of secrets
and forbbiden kisses
hiding star
all your light
is fading away
Noon
orange dye
wind blows apart
some withered leaves
Moon
you are
a shinning star
light of sky
Night
quiet force
keeper of secrets
and forbbiden kisses
Monday, October 30, 2006
Formerly Known III
Days, months and years have flown, like water streaming furiously from the mountains to the sea. I sit in front of the cold window at the side of my bed, rain washes the crystals everyday and nutures the trees in the backyard.
I've been resting here since the great fall, the one that withered all forms of vegetation from Veldran, my city. A brown, red and yellow carpet was omnipresent in roads and sidewalks, crushed by the naive peasents in their morning walks.
I swing my chair while I hear the water symphony outside, I could say I understand Haendel's mind but not his heart. No one's heart. You can be in somebody shoes and try to think like them and given the proper background you could, but to feel like somebody else, that is nonsense.
A robin lands on my window and starts hitting with its beck the glass, I stand up slowly and walk to it step by step, one at a time, and open the road to my solitude. The robin glides to the shelves where I keep my books and stares at me.
Celebrate! One is life, one and mine!
Run in meadows, talk with flowers!
Rest at the shadows of forgotten trees!
They cast shelter for the wise and meek.
Kiss those lying lips!
Be reborn, be baptized!
The ashes of past,
Will mix with the land.
Life follows the aging time!
Lose yourself, we are not
You are the universe, the rose and the stone
Calm winds, kind, gentle God
Left without shields at all times prone.
Thus said the little bird into my head. And I sit down again, and continued swinging my chair.
I've been resting here since the great fall, the one that withered all forms of vegetation from Veldran, my city. A brown, red and yellow carpet was omnipresent in roads and sidewalks, crushed by the naive peasents in their morning walks.
I swing my chair while I hear the water symphony outside, I could say I understand Haendel's mind but not his heart. No one's heart. You can be in somebody shoes and try to think like them and given the proper background you could, but to feel like somebody else, that is nonsense.
A robin lands on my window and starts hitting with its beck the glass, I stand up slowly and walk to it step by step, one at a time, and open the road to my solitude. The robin glides to the shelves where I keep my books and stares at me.
Celebrate! One is life, one and mine!
Run in meadows, talk with flowers!
Rest at the shadows of forgotten trees!
They cast shelter for the wise and meek.
Kiss those lying lips!
Be reborn, be baptized!
The ashes of past,
Will mix with the land.
Life follows the aging time!
Lose yourself, we are not
You are the universe, the rose and the stone
Calm winds, kind, gentle God
Left without shields at all times prone.
Thus said the little bird into my head. And I sit down again, and continued swinging my chair.
The will of violence
I was hit by some news this morning, a friend's brother and a friend of him were violently attacked in a bar, both of them had to go to the hospital with several injuries, they where left unconcious to their fate in the floor of the place. There were 7 against 2, seven football players of my "Alma Matter" against to 20 years old boys.
I don't think is fair, do you?
If you want to kill somebody, to unleash all the anger that spreads in all your body it is ok, but do it by yourself, be a man. Even against enemies there must be etiquette, elegance, pride and must of all, Honor.
It is not honorable to beat to death a boy, it is not honorable to fight many against one. It is not fair to kick a living corpse, an enemy that is already slain and about to die. It is fault of this society that doesn't know what is right, what is wrong. That is the problem with relativism... everything is grey, clear grey or dark grey, but you can't completely say black or white or you will be seen as dumb and conservative to the point of stupidity.
Things are black and white, learn to see the line. Bad is bad, good is good there's in no need for new words like "badong" or "gudnab", good and bad where meant to be absolute not relative... To who you might say? To everyone I may answer.
Who is who to tell? - You are to tell. - Why me? - Who else?
We try to skip the responsability of our own judgment and actions, relaying on other people to lean on our opinions. We tend to justify whatever we want (to want is not to think) based on a volatile and ambiguous morality that accepts everything as deppending on something else, light is light only compared to shadow, but could be darkess compared with a brighter light.
Anything goes... that is the cause of all modern problems. Strict morallity? the cause of all the old ones...
This people, this college heroes, are nothing but scum, this are our future role models, as many politicians, actors, and people that have sold their souls like harlots.
I dispice them... And I wish somehow I could bring some justice to this corrupted world.
I don't think is fair, do you?
If you want to kill somebody, to unleash all the anger that spreads in all your body it is ok, but do it by yourself, be a man. Even against enemies there must be etiquette, elegance, pride and must of all, Honor.
It is not honorable to beat to death a boy, it is not honorable to fight many against one. It is not fair to kick a living corpse, an enemy that is already slain and about to die. It is fault of this society that doesn't know what is right, what is wrong. That is the problem with relativism... everything is grey, clear grey or dark grey, but you can't completely say black or white or you will be seen as dumb and conservative to the point of stupidity.
Things are black and white, learn to see the line. Bad is bad, good is good there's in no need for new words like "badong" or "gudnab", good and bad where meant to be absolute not relative... To who you might say? To everyone I may answer.
Who is who to tell? - You are to tell. - Why me? - Who else?
We try to skip the responsability of our own judgment and actions, relaying on other people to lean on our opinions. We tend to justify whatever we want (to want is not to think) based on a volatile and ambiguous morality that accepts everything as deppending on something else, light is light only compared to shadow, but could be darkess compared with a brighter light.
Anything goes... that is the cause of all modern problems. Strict morallity? the cause of all the old ones...
This people, this college heroes, are nothing but scum, this are our future role models, as many politicians, actors, and people that have sold their souls like harlots.
I dispice them... And I wish somehow I could bring some justice to this corrupted world.
Saturday, October 28, 2006
A glimpse
I lay on my bed just by the window recovering from last night (a night of women, alcohol and music), I turn my head and see this glorious aura, the sun was covered by a nearby building's roof, but the halo surrounding it was visible, clear, perfect. I watch mesmerized.
It is just so beautiful.
It is just so beautiful.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Formerly Known II
- Overcome this pain you suffer, the cure you seek is just faith. Embrace your God even against you will, against you doubt... Praised well are those who go beyond their limited logic, their superfluous minds and turn their faces to the light that never fades.
A tall building shrouded in night stands at the top of the hill, many travellers gather here when the lighting storms strike with anger the woods. They find shelter and a place to sleep. A great gate waits in front of the dusty road, taller than three men, wider than a The King's Chariot.
Inside a gallery decorates the entrance hall, paintings of epic battles, legendary heroes and their armies in the battles that made them famous and eternal. The monks, "The order of the Sacred Fire" is known for both, their great mastery with the brush and with the sword.
A crying moan is heard across the cold air that fills this shrine, followed by some rhythmic yet chaotic chant.
- Om medere! tao mits tedem, hill hiaw sur tedem! Sang a monk with frantic agitation.
- Om medere! trial gut nuodem, hill hiaw mits tedem! Answered the rest at once.
Those words were written in golden scripture all along the walls. A kind monk, the one that opened the gates when I was calling, translated them to me.
- God burn! Your mighty flame, your will is the brightest sun!
- God burn! Embrace our hearts, your will is the only sun!
I heard each and every word very surprised of hearing an Hymn to the sun, knowing from local lore that this were people of the night, that darkness filled every corner of this magnificent construction.
- My son, don't be stubborn. Do as I say. You have no choice.
- Don't bother asking again, you already know how my heart works.
I fell asleep, wondering about this strange place that summons travellers hiding them in mist.
A tall building shrouded in night stands at the top of the hill, many travellers gather here when the lighting storms strike with anger the woods. They find shelter and a place to sleep. A great gate waits in front of the dusty road, taller than three men, wider than a The King's Chariot.
Inside a gallery decorates the entrance hall, paintings of epic battles, legendary heroes and their armies in the battles that made them famous and eternal. The monks, "The order of the Sacred Fire" is known for both, their great mastery with the brush and with the sword.
A crying moan is heard across the cold air that fills this shrine, followed by some rhythmic yet chaotic chant.
- Om medere! tao mits tedem, hill hiaw sur tedem! Sang a monk with frantic agitation.
- Om medere! trial gut nuodem, hill hiaw mits tedem! Answered the rest at once.
Those words were written in golden scripture all along the walls. A kind monk, the one that opened the gates when I was calling, translated them to me.
- God burn! Your mighty flame, your will is the brightest sun!
- God burn! Embrace our hearts, your will is the only sun!
I heard each and every word very surprised of hearing an Hymn to the sun, knowing from local lore that this were people of the night, that darkness filled every corner of this magnificent construction.
- My son, don't be stubborn. Do as I say. You have no choice.
- Don't bother asking again, you already know how my heart works.
I fell asleep, wondering about this strange place that summons travellers hiding them in mist.
Practical Discussions I
We can unveil it if we are certain and compromised to do it, reality. Not just as a mental exercise or a philosophical novelty but as a final statement of human life which is in my opinion (oh dreaded opinions... the cause of all trouble in human kind) the most significant approach we could have. My first point of view (in a much reduced yet very broad sense) is that everything is reality; there is not such thing as fantasy, lies or illusions. This might at least cause many of you a sense of negation, discomfort or if I am lucky (sometimes I am) maybe a bit of interest. Infinite universes with thousand suns unfold in an imagination not able to grasp the true meaning of this. We think and we base our life in that thinking. "I think therefore I am" is a quote that has for many centuries now, limited the concept of what we can call life. According to this statement feelings are a by-process or sub-process of the thinking machine (we are our brains, and the body is a tool) emotions as well, and also perceptions that are received and transported by the senses to the brain. We have two realities, the one happening outside and the one inside.
But, have you ever wonder what a brain with no senses would be? What will happen to a healthy brain that happens to exist without those windows of perception? Would this grey mass turn to waste, or would it develop another structure of behaving and thinking? We know of its highly adaptable nature (like when people lose any sense, mainly the sight, the other senses start you behave more keen and accurate, sometimes claiming for themselves many actions usually related to the sense lost) which evolves with the circumstances. ESP? Perhaps but not likely, I do not want to discuss something not yet proved (I know neither disapproved) scientifically; that is one reason, the other one is my knowledge in my subject is far from good.
We make divisions because we think we are divided, thus our reality is divide because as I stated previously we live what we think (this from some time on has become a present dogma not just in psychology but also modern physics) .
Everything is reality just because we are able to speak of it, think of it. We are or at least we have a degree of identification with our thoughts that makes us live what we think, thus we think what we live, our life is our thoughts, bad thoughts bad life.
I know there is no clear order in writing (chaotic thoughts), but well imagine my life.
Formerly Known I
- My name shall echo in your soul for the rest of your life. Dark light will cast the blackest shadows running, following you by your side, in a fiery attempt to strike your heart and grasp its roots deep within. You'll grow weary, weak, pale as a ghost striving to exist, eager to die.
The sword reached the shed, a long, silvery, sparkling gaze of a blade used to bath in red. Kryad Naid, Koriuga Naid, "Living sword, thirsty sword".
The time stopped still, the birds stood immobile awaiting the revival of the mystic flow, machinery more ancient than Gods. Bringer of doom, father of chaos, son of eternity and in itself the essence of life. It froze and with it the whole, portraying and sketching the new come, the new world.
- This charade, the whole cosmic joke guards the last laugh. You my mighty friend are just a slave; of yourself and others... you serve too many masters. Power is but a mere illusion of hope, with some true skill, it must be said... but not yours, no of course not, it is your sword's. And when it quenches its thirst drowned in warm blood, the wind will fly with your mastery to nevermore.
- Stand unworthy revenant and show your face. Tricky is the fate that slowly unfolds itself. If you are that angel of mercy, the bearer of the 7th mark, unleash divine fury not those words, that gibberish. Drop by drop the drizzle runs through the trees, as this clear spot surrounded by forest watches the scene.
They stared at each other, with the rain running down their faces. Both with one hand in the scabbard and the other in the grip, unable to move, to anticipate... Just the wind blowing was heard and a distant cry from a frog. Pines were whistling in frenzy, ready to drink the blood of angels.
Kryor dared to blink.
Jhool took advantage.
Twenty three feet between them disappeared in a moment, as if never there. Jhool sword was already unsheathed and swung with a rapid movement from right to left. His sword was far longer than Kryor's and he took advantage of this, four feet from one another. His sword, the others chest in deep communion were one in for an instant. Kryor's face was paled and his mouth seemed strange trying to utter a word. He was untouched... still something was missing.
The sword reached the shed, a long, silvery, sparkling gaze of a blade used to bath in red. Kryad Naid, Koriuga Naid, "Living sword, thirsty sword".
The time stopped still, the birds stood immobile awaiting the revival of the mystic flow, machinery more ancient than Gods. Bringer of doom, father of chaos, son of eternity and in itself the essence of life. It froze and with it the whole, portraying and sketching the new come, the new world.
- This charade, the whole cosmic joke guards the last laugh. You my mighty friend are just a slave; of yourself and others... you serve too many masters. Power is but a mere illusion of hope, with some true skill, it must be said... but not yours, no of course not, it is your sword's. And when it quenches its thirst drowned in warm blood, the wind will fly with your mastery to nevermore.
- Stand unworthy revenant and show your face. Tricky is the fate that slowly unfolds itself. If you are that angel of mercy, the bearer of the 7th mark, unleash divine fury not those words, that gibberish. Drop by drop the drizzle runs through the trees, as this clear spot surrounded by forest watches the scene.
They stared at each other, with the rain running down their faces. Both with one hand in the scabbard and the other in the grip, unable to move, to anticipate... Just the wind blowing was heard and a distant cry from a frog. Pines were whistling in frenzy, ready to drink the blood of angels.
Kryor dared to blink.
Jhool took advantage.
Twenty three feet between them disappeared in a moment, as if never there. Jhool sword was already unsheathed and swung with a rapid movement from right to left. His sword was far longer than Kryor's and he took advantage of this, four feet from one another. His sword, the others chest in deep communion were one in for an instant. Kryor's face was paled and his mouth seemed strange trying to utter a word. He was untouched... still something was missing.
Freedom
Freedom is only achieved anonymously. It's a quiet state of being in which you start listening to your own voice. No one knows, for no one is you; you need to stare at your insight and believe in that tiny little sound, in fact it's a scream silenced by yourself. Claim freedom but do not advertise, if you are bound to fame, it’s another servitude, another slavery.
It is also achieved by the outer way (being the previous one the inner) because you live in a world, a community made by you and others, yours is a responsibility to this communal living for everything is previously planned and highly structured. You fear of underachieving or leaving the mainstream. You know leaving it's forgoing your surrounds, your protective shield against everything that is or could be. What is? you don't know but it's surely scary or not worth clinging to this idea and possible mischief.
Some might say they are out or never have been in. I am not one to tell for I am not them and cannot know they only can. But since "I" is my personal experience, also is my personal dogma to which I adhere in which I drown. So in order to fantasise about reaching farther and faster... not than anyone, beyond myself I create this, an escape either false or true. Liberation, as far as I am concerned that is all that matters.
Trying... well no trying to try is worthless, reaching, achieving.
Carlo Tussi
It is also achieved by the outer way (being the previous one the inner) because you live in a world, a community made by you and others, yours is a responsibility to this communal living for everything is previously planned and highly structured. You fear of underachieving or leaving the mainstream. You know leaving it's forgoing your surrounds, your protective shield against everything that is or could be. What is? you don't know but it's surely scary or not worth clinging to this idea and possible mischief.
Some might say they are out or never have been in. I am not one to tell for I am not them and cannot know they only can. But since "I" is my personal experience, also is my personal dogma to which I adhere in which I drown. So in order to fantasise about reaching farther and faster... not than anyone, beyond myself I create this, an escape either false or true. Liberation, as far as I am concerned that is all that matters.
Trying... well no trying to try is worthless, reaching, achieving.
Carlo Tussi
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
