Things should fall into either of two categories (if it serves both then we're talking a third category, genius):
Beautiful
or
Useful
Unfortunately for beauty, beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them (merci, Hume) and many minds declaring beauty have ceased to contemplate at all.
'Art' has taken an anti-heroic fall where respect is paid to those deserving
none at all.
The things that make one laugh reveal a lot about that person, don't they? Well, I don't know exactly what this reveals about me (though I have some inklings) but slapstick, physical comedy gets me roaring. I mean, curled in a ball, face falling off, tears in your eyes, wailing like a banshee, breath out of breath, sick to your stomach, eventually laughing at how hard you're laughing, laughing. And last night, that was me. A girl laughing so hard that if my fit was taken out of context and shown as a short video clip to passersby on the street to gather their opinions, 5 out of 6 might venture to ask, "Is this what hysteria looks like?" I am not ashamed.
So as part of my ever-notorious, MBBC, I bring to you pages 114-117 (or chapter 29 into 30) of my new favorite author Kurt Vonnegut's Timequake. If there's a chance you'll laugh as hard and as well as I did, it'd be an outright crime not to share this...
ENJOY
I feel your pain, KV.
So as part of my ever-notorious, MBBC, I bring to you pages 114-117 (or chapter 29 into 30) of my new favorite author Kurt Vonnegut's Timequake. If there's a chance you'll laugh as hard and as well as I did, it'd be an outright crime not to share this...
ENJOY
when you make love the focus, you sort of eventually kill it, it becomes garish under the microscope, robbed of organic mystery in the moments
but when you use it to inform everything you do, you sort of really fill it
with life, substance, beyond a 4 letter word and kisses on a screen
it becomes real, because it's an element in everything you touch, approach, illuminating form, illuminated by form
and when you bring love to loving
well,
that's enlightenment
that's everything
but when you use it to inform everything you do, you sort of really fill it
with life, substance, beyond a 4 letter word and kisses on a screen
it becomes real, because it's an element in everything you touch, approach, illuminating form, illuminated by form
and when you bring love to loving
well,
that's enlightenment
that's everything
Sometimes I'm working from habit, memory, routine, familiarity; and it begins to weigh heavy
We become bored, uncertain, uninspired, seeking. Restless.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
From inception, subtle instructions pointing us to
You are what you do
My insides need to express who I am
Within what I do
Being expressed in doing
Not doing to become, though further becoming is a natural outgrowth
And so it should be
For you too
In so doing, arriving at
The impression of oneness (I say impression because it already exists, we just can't see it, fully feel it; until it impresses itself upon us)
With all that we engage
Which form takes on which shape?
Subtle seamless
Give and take
Even so, disconnection comes through the wire
A certain lack of fuel for fire
Or abundance of fire, tearing through fuel
We get comfortable and forget to reach
Yet times request a steadied rest
Reconnecting to the spontaneity of being what you know without knowing that you know it, what comes naturally, expressing experience plus...
There's this lesson in breath I recently learned
Of course, once both sides were presented and grasped a deeper metaphor was unleashed to wrap around me fast
And it wasn't so much the mechanics, though they will surely get you there
But the meaning that accompanied it to remain well past the moment
I saw the symptom through this comedian I flipped to catch last night. Late Late show. Right before Last Call when you know who ever is up and watching just doesn't give a f*ck- (sidenote, that's what TV does. I haven't owned/watched TV in, oh, 7 years, and have recently been around one again, tuning in. It just sucks the give-a-f*ck right out of you. Makes my feel like a little tween eating canned corn and Elio's pizza after school, alone, bored, watching 90210. WOW anywayyyy ::shudder). He was ranting about how good things were going in his life. While a voice in the back of his mind screamed at him, "Oh wow, things are going really well, look at that. You're gonna screw it up, oh man you're gonna mess this up things are going so well when is it gonna get messed up?" and on and on. The crowd laughed in agreement, sure, we can sympathize. The seesaw. What's with the seesaw? Wasn't it enough on the playground?
Coming back to the larger point, found in this breathing -- what's a less rigid word for exercise? That.
Inhale deeply through the nose. Feel your heart and lungs expand, receive fullness. On the exhale, maintain this fullness, this space. At the bottom of the exhale, come into the natural contraction of your lower abdomen. Along with this contraction comes a deeper connection with your seat, a rooting effect that draws down as you draw in through the exhale. Maintain the contraction, this connection with the earth as you receive the breath, expanding up and out. Instead of seesawing, my instructor went on to impart, exaggerating heavy, hardly graceful, aerobic breathing- in, out, in, out, up, down, up, down, his whole torso shook; integrate.
There's a tightness I came into during this process.
Instead of swinging side to side, weave in the center. Like this visual concept I've been carrying, partly too afraid and unsure of how to execute, partly gathering pieces to complete the blank edges; like a braid through time, all the strings are already crossed waaaay down the line, they're waiting, far apart as seemingly unrelated. And as we come to them on our roads, they definitively overlap, get tighter, just needing, awaiting us to pull our way forward.
We become bored, uncertain, uninspired, seeking. Restless.
What do you want to be when you grow up?
From inception, subtle instructions pointing us to
You are what you do
My insides need to express who I am
Within what I do
Being expressed in doing
Not doing to become, though further becoming is a natural outgrowth
And so it should be
For you too
In so doing, arriving at
The impression of oneness (I say impression because it already exists, we just can't see it, fully feel it; until it impresses itself upon us)
With all that we engage
Which form takes on which shape?
Subtle seamless
Give and take
Even so, disconnection comes through the wire
A certain lack of fuel for fire
Or abundance of fire, tearing through fuel
We get comfortable and forget to reach
Yet times request a steadied rest
Reconnecting to the spontaneity of being what you know without knowing that you know it, what comes naturally, expressing experience plus...
There's this lesson in breath I recently learned
Of course, once both sides were presented and grasped a deeper metaphor was unleashed to wrap around me fast
And it wasn't so much the mechanics, though they will surely get you there
But the meaning that accompanied it to remain well past the moment
I saw the symptom through this comedian I flipped to catch last night. Late Late show. Right before Last Call when you know who ever is up and watching just doesn't give a f*ck- (sidenote, that's what TV does. I haven't owned/watched TV in, oh, 7 years, and have recently been around one again, tuning in. It just sucks the give-a-f*ck right out of you. Makes my feel like a little tween eating canned corn and Elio's pizza after school, alone, bored, watching 90210. WOW anywayyyy ::shudder). He was ranting about how good things were going in his life. While a voice in the back of his mind screamed at him, "Oh wow, things are going really well, look at that. You're gonna screw it up, oh man you're gonna mess this up things are going so well when is it gonna get messed up?" and on and on. The crowd laughed in agreement, sure, we can sympathize. The seesaw. What's with the seesaw? Wasn't it enough on the playground?
Coming back to the larger point, found in this breathing -- what's a less rigid word for exercise? That.
Inhale deeply through the nose. Feel your heart and lungs expand, receive fullness. On the exhale, maintain this fullness, this space. At the bottom of the exhale, come into the natural contraction of your lower abdomen. Along with this contraction comes a deeper connection with your seat, a rooting effect that draws down as you draw in through the exhale. Maintain the contraction, this connection with the earth as you receive the breath, expanding up and out. Instead of seesawing, my instructor went on to impart, exaggerating heavy, hardly graceful, aerobic breathing- in, out, in, out, up, down, up, down, his whole torso shook; integrate.
There's a tightness I came into during this process.
Instead of swinging side to side, weave in the center. Like this visual concept I've been carrying, partly too afraid and unsure of how to execute, partly gathering pieces to complete the blank edges; like a braid through time, all the strings are already crossed waaaay down the line, they're waiting, far apart as seemingly unrelated. And as we come to them on our roads, they definitively overlap, get tighter, just needing, awaiting us to pull our way forward.
|
I'd like for them to say he took a few cups of love, he took 1 tablespoon of patience, 1 teaspoon of generosity, 1 pint of kindness, he took 1 quart of laughter, 1 pinch of concern, and then, he mixed willingness with happiness, he added lots of faith, and he stirred it up well, then he spread it up over a span of a lifetime, and he served it to each and every deserving person he met.
|
Today is my birthday. Hold the applause, please, please. Thank you, yes, I know, thank you.
On these kinda full-circle days, I think it's nice to reflect on what you've learned up til now. Here are some things I've sort-of learned, or more or less just have on my mind today.............
My brother in law needed to leave work early the other day to pick up a friend from the airport. He told them that he was getting acupuncture in Yonkers. "Yonkers?", they asked, seated in the FiDi, "Isn't that a bit far to go for acupuncture?" "Ah yea, but it's a special procedure. You see, they insert the needles into the tip of your penis." No further questions.
Outrageous lies are often more believable than the boring, inconvenient truth. Tell them when you'll get a laugh, it doesn't hurt anyone, and you can afford it.
These are the kind of people I am grateful for in my life. If only for the outrageous form of inspiration. But, really, for so much more...
When it comes to making yourself happy, do the do (dew).
Get over yourself and get into yourself
"An idea without a price tag has no meaning"
Knowing what you want, priceless. Getting it, will cost you (tax you).
Reinventing the wheel. Discuss.
It's gray and raining. And it's quite perfect. Silencing. To me it sounds like soft applause for my quiet entry into this world. Apparently I wasn't crying out of the womb. Ha. Typical. Quiet at first and then I get cozy.........
Time and time again it proves itself to me: We only regret those things we did not do. And the more seconds you spend on that equals more regret. Let it go and paint that shit gold. Ah I know, it's hard, it's hard. It's ok, one day you'll be dead. See? Isn't that better?...
This one time, I was hysterically crying, right. And in the middle of it, I paused and said, "Damn this feels amazing."
Late for a conf. call. PER USUAL.
Ah, good, waiting for others to join....
Failing to plan... In some cases, could go REALLY well, actually. But you have to be 100% committed. Either way you go, go into it all the way. Because if you start scrambling 1/2-ass planning in the middle of the game, you're blocking the waves of spontaneity which will otherwise carry you through marvelously.
If you have a gut, go with it. Otherwise, go to the gym and get some endorphins going which will support the gut you're not going with while also getting you in tip top shape.
Other important birthdays:
So there you have it, ladies and gents.
Off to werk...
Much love,
Moi
P/S Can someone please explain the 'fusion'? Lost in translation.
On these kinda full-circle days, I think it's nice to reflect on what you've learned up til now. Here are some things I've sort-of learned, or more or less just have on my mind today.............
My brother in law needed to leave work early the other day to pick up a friend from the airport. He told them that he was getting acupuncture in Yonkers. "Yonkers?", they asked, seated in the FiDi, "Isn't that a bit far to go for acupuncture?" "Ah yea, but it's a special procedure. You see, they insert the needles into the tip of your penis." No further questions.
Outrageous lies are often more believable than the boring, inconvenient truth. Tell them when you'll get a laugh, it doesn't hurt anyone, and you can afford it.
These are the kind of people I am grateful for in my life. If only for the outrageous form of inspiration. But, really, for so much more...
When it comes to making yourself happy, do the do (dew).
Get over yourself and get into yourself
"An idea without a price tag has no meaning"
Knowing what you want, priceless. Getting it, will cost you (tax you).
Reinventing the wheel. Discuss.
It's gray and raining. And it's quite perfect. Silencing. To me it sounds like soft applause for my quiet entry into this world. Apparently I wasn't crying out of the womb. Ha. Typical. Quiet at first and then I get cozy.........
Time and time again it proves itself to me: We only regret those things we did not do. And the more seconds you spend on that equals more regret. Let it go and paint that shit gold. Ah I know, it's hard, it's hard. It's ok, one day you'll be dead. See? Isn't that better?...
This one time, I was hysterically crying, right. And in the middle of it, I paused and said, "Damn this feels amazing."
Late for a conf. call. PER USUAL.
Ah, good, waiting for others to join....
Failing to plan... In some cases, could go REALLY well, actually. But you have to be 100% committed. Either way you go, go into it all the way. Because if you start scrambling 1/2-ass planning in the middle of the game, you're blocking the waves of spontaneity which will otherwise carry you through marvelously.
If you have a gut, go with it. Otherwise, go to the gym and get some endorphins going which will support the gut you're not going with while also getting you in tip top shape.
Other important birthdays:
I mean, what an honor.
(Note the sizurp)
"Over it"
I'm sorry, what?
It's a little known fact but, there was, in actuality, a cupcake to where his finger is pointing.
The artist failed to render the cupcake because he was just using it to garner the reaction,
"Are you going to eat that?", a question commonly asked by those born on this date.
So there you have it, ladies and gents.
Off to werk...
Much love,
Moi
P/S Can someone please explain the 'fusion'? Lost in translation.
Dear _______ (blank),
I thought about writing you the whole way home tonight. It started somewhere around that really expansive part of the FDR where the road takes a big curve to the left and the river hugs in to the right, and you've got an open view of the Empire State (all white now) and the Chrysler and that funny building with an isosceles triangle for a hat. That part always gets me excited about the city. Just that part. Flying driving and boom, beautiful skyline, you can feel the cars respond with the woosh in the road. Somewhere around the bridge I got in the mood to write again, like I did back when. Then you're ahead of yourself, and all these ideas come tumbling out in perfect succession and you're stepping harder on the pedal to slow the thoughts down before you're before a place to jot, jet. Then someone threw their cigarette out their window and it freaked me out, like always. I always picture some freak accident of physics happening where their loose cigarette, still lit, bounces into my tailpipe and sparks, ignites up in there somewhere, exploding the whole car and me along with it. One little spark and boom, MacGruber, I'd be gone and then this letter couldn't come out. That's what I worry about. Dying and not being able to write this letter. Not dying and leaving behind friends and family and a life not yet lived out. No. Just dying and not getting home tonight to let this out because those friends and family aren't around (I tried. Called two of them, no dice.) and when you start thinking, "I wouldn't mind someone to just talk to and tell all this random stuff to and have them listen and then I'll listen back" you start to think you really do need that, not just want it, but need it. So you call. Or start a narrative to no one in particular, to blank.
It's not like I can't be alone. I love being alone. But lately I feel like all we do is work. Work, work, work and relax at home in our own worlds before we pass out for a few to get up and go again. And that's fine, and maybe I'm just having a bout of cryptomnesia (which I analyzed in the car) where I internalized a horoscope I read today which told me rekindling friendships and spending time with friends would be something I might yearn for today, and then spit it back out thinking it was coming from my own original source. I don't know. Maybe. Regardless, we used to all get together for some QT without our phones and laptops open and heads in 3 worlds at once. We all used to get together and BE together. In a room, with some tunes and some wine or food or tea or whatever and really spend time together. Maybe play some cards. Or get into fights where packets of oatmeal would be thrown really hard until they burst. Ha. And the simplicity of each others company was enough, we didn't need added cushioning of extra media to make time around others comfortable. When did that happen? How did that happen? Us getting so dependent on our second identities in the matrix that it makes interactions face to face, hm, I don't know, strained. Strange. Eh, maybe it's just my imagination.
It's like I'm stoned or something, tonight. I used to be, often, when the words would align right up in a stream and flow out sans inhibitions. Just being honest. But I havn't been since before that time between May and June when things got rearranged, some kind of automatic psychotherapy to clean that little part up. But I still dream about it, let me tell ya, and a nervous dreaming. How am I gonna get neurotic in my sleep? I used to never care this much about not doing something. But the funny part is that in waking life, there's nothing to it, I can take it or leave it and I just leave it.
That and nervous, worse-possible-outcome dreaming about being late to a class and getting in trouble. I am chronically late. It's terrible. My sense of time is a little warped. I'm workin on ittttt. What's the saying? "#IT'S A PROCESS"?
I've rarely had recurring dreams but I figure I'm really dealing with some sh*t inside there for these things to continually be brought up. Dark stuff. Joints and tardiness. Jeez.
It's a trip to get on the other end of something you love. Where you break it down into its parts to be able to put it back together in order to understand it fully, so you can pass it on to others with the how, why and where behind the instruction. Honestly, it can take the fun out of it, being on this other end. Receiving the transmission feels great and you just turn in, tune in and take it. Giving it can be so exhausting. Because you're also trying to take it in, as the giver and as the receiver, like, what are they feeling? Is this flowing? There must be some seamless level where giver and receiver are no longer separate. I'll let you know when I get there. I'm still digging my heels into confidence and projecting my voice with authority, that way responses are firmer and I won't think they hate me or don't trust me when I'm giving them instructions on how to move. It's weird, I know. Wish I could take my own class...
I mentioned the power of auto suggestion tonight. Had them all in a standing balance. Wobbling. "Bring strength into your standing leg with your suggestion of stability." I think that convoluted advice just distracted some people and they lost their balance. Ha. Shit. One. Day. At. A. Time.
But really. Auto-suggestion. Get familiar. I'm not going to 'testify!' but I'll say, it's magical.
And we could all use a little magic in our lives.
Signing off with so much more I had but got left on the road somewhere.
<3,
Fullness
I thought about writing you the whole way home tonight. It started somewhere around that really expansive part of the FDR where the road takes a big curve to the left and the river hugs in to the right, and you've got an open view of the Empire State (all white now) and the Chrysler and that funny building with an isosceles triangle for a hat. That part always gets me excited about the city. Just that part. Flying driving and boom, beautiful skyline, you can feel the cars respond with the woosh in the road. Somewhere around the bridge I got in the mood to write again, like I did back when. Then you're ahead of yourself, and all these ideas come tumbling out in perfect succession and you're stepping harder on the pedal to slow the thoughts down before you're before a place to jot, jet. Then someone threw their cigarette out their window and it freaked me out, like always. I always picture some freak accident of physics happening where their loose cigarette, still lit, bounces into my tailpipe and sparks, ignites up in there somewhere, exploding the whole car and me along with it. One little spark and boom, MacGruber, I'd be gone and then this letter couldn't come out. That's what I worry about. Dying and not being able to write this letter. Not dying and leaving behind friends and family and a life not yet lived out. No. Just dying and not getting home tonight to let this out because those friends and family aren't around (I tried. Called two of them, no dice.) and when you start thinking, "I wouldn't mind someone to just talk to and tell all this random stuff to and have them listen and then I'll listen back" you start to think you really do need that, not just want it, but need it. So you call. Or start a narrative to no one in particular, to blank.
It's not like I can't be alone. I love being alone. But lately I feel like all we do is work. Work, work, work and relax at home in our own worlds before we pass out for a few to get up and go again. And that's fine, and maybe I'm just having a bout of cryptomnesia (which I analyzed in the car) where I internalized a horoscope I read today which told me rekindling friendships and spending time with friends would be something I might yearn for today, and then spit it back out thinking it was coming from my own original source. I don't know. Maybe. Regardless, we used to all get together for some QT without our phones and laptops open and heads in 3 worlds at once. We all used to get together and BE together. In a room, with some tunes and some wine or food or tea or whatever and really spend time together. Maybe play some cards. Or get into fights where packets of oatmeal would be thrown really hard until they burst. Ha. And the simplicity of each others company was enough, we didn't need added cushioning of extra media to make time around others comfortable. When did that happen? How did that happen? Us getting so dependent on our second identities in the matrix that it makes interactions face to face, hm, I don't know, strained. Strange. Eh, maybe it's just my imagination.
It's like I'm stoned or something, tonight. I used to be, often, when the words would align right up in a stream and flow out sans inhibitions. Just being honest. But I havn't been since before that time between May and June when things got rearranged, some kind of automatic psychotherapy to clean that little part up. But I still dream about it, let me tell ya, and a nervous dreaming. How am I gonna get neurotic in my sleep? I used to never care this much about not doing something. But the funny part is that in waking life, there's nothing to it, I can take it or leave it and I just leave it.
That and nervous, worse-possible-outcome dreaming about being late to a class and getting in trouble. I am chronically late. It's terrible. My sense of time is a little warped. I'm workin on ittttt. What's the saying? "#IT'S A PROCESS"?
I've rarely had recurring dreams but I figure I'm really dealing with some sh*t inside there for these things to continually be brought up. Dark stuff. Joints and tardiness. Jeez.
It's a trip to get on the other end of something you love. Where you break it down into its parts to be able to put it back together in order to understand it fully, so you can pass it on to others with the how, why and where behind the instruction. Honestly, it can take the fun out of it, being on this other end. Receiving the transmission feels great and you just turn in, tune in and take it. Giving it can be so exhausting. Because you're also trying to take it in, as the giver and as the receiver, like, what are they feeling? Is this flowing? There must be some seamless level where giver and receiver are no longer separate. I'll let you know when I get there. I'm still digging my heels into confidence and projecting my voice with authority, that way responses are firmer and I won't think they hate me or don't trust me when I'm giving them instructions on how to move. It's weird, I know. Wish I could take my own class...
I mentioned the power of auto suggestion tonight. Had them all in a standing balance. Wobbling. "Bring strength into your standing leg with your suggestion of stability." I think that convoluted advice just distracted some people and they lost their balance. Ha. Shit. One. Day. At. A. Time.
But really. Auto-suggestion. Get familiar. I'm not going to 'testify!' but I'll say, it's magical.
And we could all use a little magic in our lives.
Signing off with so much more I had but got left on the road somewhere.
<3,
Fullness
|
"All music is what awakes within us
when we are reminded by the instruments;
It is not the violins or the clarinets -
It is not the beating of the drums -
Nor the score of the baritone singing
his sweet romanza; not that of the men's chorus,
Nor that of the women's chorus -
It is nearer and farther than they.-"
Lovingly,
- Eunice Waymon -
Sun-kissed city day, strolling around the dense comfort of a Western Village's townhouse-scape,
16 bars away from another world of always-flowing traffic
staying within the lines of boutiques, cafes, narrow roads
lush trees still line the streets, their leaves holding on for just a little while longer,
while this song colors the air,
walking, walking, walking, walking
Let's not beat around the fucking bush here.
These sites have taken to dishing out some pretty helpful tidbits, take a gander:
I'm wondering if anyone else has taken to dispensing of advice in this abrasive albeit, refreshingly straight forward, manner?
Here are some of my own contributions to this wave of fuckery...
FuckingMD
"Fucking floss and brush your teeth everyday"
"Stop stuffing your fucking face"
GreenFuck
"Turn the fucking light off if no one's in the room"
"Fucking walk a few blocks"
RelationshipFuckers
"They don't fucking like you. Move on"
"Fucking listen"
"Make them fucking smile"
SexAdvice
"Good fucking luck"
"Keep it fucking wet"
"Make it fucking fresh"
ConstructionAdvice
"Hire fucking immigrants"
ChildRearingAdvice
"Don't fuck"
"Never, ever, use a fucking leash"
StyleAdvice
"Stop trying so fucking hard"
Hmm I quite like this, feeling very effective when the F word is implied...
LifeAdvice
"Just fucking breathe"
"Celebrate your fucking life"
FriendshipAdvice
"Mind your own fucking business"
"Fucking have their back"
FamilyAdvice
"Fucking love your parents"
"Fucking make up already"
"Fucking call your mother "
TravelAdvice
"Toss the fucking Fodors"
"Have a fucking place to stay"
PartyAdvice
"Keep it fucking classy"
"Fucking top-shelf first"
PetAdvice
"Stop leaving the fucking gate unlocked"
MoneyAdvice
"Cut up your fucking credit cards"
"Save your fucking money"
"Stop buying fucking bedazzled pet accessories"
CareerAdvice
"Stop fucking checking your Facebook" or, alternately "Get on Facebook and fucking network"
"Do something you fucking love"
LoveAdvice
"Love with all your fucking heart"
These sites have taken to dishing out some pretty helpful tidbits, take a gander:
I'm wondering if anyone else has taken to dispensing of advice in this abrasive albeit, refreshingly straight forward, manner?
Here are some of my own contributions to this wave of fuckery...
FuckingMD
"Fucking floss and brush your teeth everyday"
"Stop stuffing your fucking face"
GreenFuck
"Turn the fucking light off if no one's in the room"
"Fucking walk a few blocks"
RelationshipFuckers
"They don't fucking like you. Move on"
"Fucking listen"
"Make them fucking smile"
SexAdvice
"Good fucking luck"
"Keep it fucking wet"
"Make it fucking fresh"
ConstructionAdvice
"Hire fucking immigrants"
ChildRearingAdvice
"Don't fuck"
"Never, ever, use a fucking leash"
StyleAdvice
"Stop trying so fucking hard"
Hmm I quite like this, feeling very effective when the F word is implied...
LifeAdvice
"Just fucking breathe"
"Celebrate your fucking life"
FriendshipAdvice
"Mind your own fucking business"
"Fucking have their back"
FamilyAdvice
"Fucking love your parents"
"Fucking make up already"
"Fucking call your mother "
TravelAdvice
"Toss the fucking Fodors"
"Have a fucking place to stay"
PartyAdvice
"Keep it fucking classy"
"Fucking top-shelf first"
PetAdvice
"Stop leaving the fucking gate unlocked"
MoneyAdvice
"Cut up your fucking credit cards"
"Save your fucking money"
"Stop buying fucking bedazzled pet accessories"
CareerAdvice
"Stop fucking checking your Facebook" or, alternately "Get on Facebook and fucking network"
"Do something you fucking love"
LoveAdvice
"Love with all your fucking heart"
stepping forward each letter is a stone on the road of words defining the journey to the other side
Devanāgarī, city of gods, they inhabit our words, inspiration to spill from the tongues of many
equally we've all abused, so easy to speak with lashes, gossip, trashing, boasting, bashing
sticks and stones may break our bones but words, oh they penetrate far more deeply
take care, a vow to take the rap, wrap away from war with words
meaning escalates so steeply
up there, paired with air melody moving invisibly to keep the breath alive
why do you think the i-
Pods, head-phones call us all back to ourselves
more and more
accessing love
and nothing more
Devanāgarī, city of gods, they inhabit our words, inspiration to spill from the tongues of many
equally we've all abused, so easy to speak with lashes, gossip, trashing, boasting, bashing
sticks and stones may break our bones but words, oh they penetrate far more deeply
take care, a vow to take the rap, wrap away from war with words
meaning escalates so steeply
up there, paired with air melody moving invisibly to keep the breath alive
why do you think the i-
Pods, head-phones call us all back to ourselves
more and more
accessing love
and nothing more
The last few years, I've just begun to really discover recording artists that have been around for ages, the kind you should be slightly embarrassed not to know already. I think Aziz Ansari touched on this naivete once, joking about his 18 year old cousin who "just discovered music".
Some of us grow up in a house full of records where music passed through the air along with a cooking dinner. Genres limited, genres expansive... Others, not so much, stuck to the radio hits and classmate influence.
And then we grow up and the power is ours and you sort of find the giant X where a treasure trove of richness rests...
I've always got my ears open, grateful for hints and nudges down the line of musicians, reaching further and further back through the linage of influence.
And the other day along came one of the most beautiful songs (artists) I've heard of late... So glad to have been open at the right moment...
And those amazing words...
If I ventured in the slipstream Between the viaducts of your dream
Where immobile steel rims crack And the ditch in the back roads stop
Could you find me? Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down In silence easy
To be born again To be born again
From the far side of the ocean If I put the wheels in motion
And I stand with my arms behind me And Im pushin on the door
Could you find me? Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down In silence easy
To be born again To be born again
There you go Standin with the look of avarice
Talkin to huddie ledbetter Showin pictures on the wall
Whisperin in the hall And pointin a finger at me
There you go, there you go Standin in the sun darlin
With your arms behind you And your eyes before
There you go Takin good care of your boy
Seein that hes got clean clothes Puttin on his little red shoes
I see you know hes got clean clothes A-puttin on his little red shoes
A-pointin a finger at me And here I am
Standing in your sad arrest Trying to do my very best
Lookin straight at you Comin through, darlin
Yeah, yeah, yeah If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dreams Where immobile steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back roads stop Could you find me
Would you kiss-a my eyes Lay me down In silence easy
To be born again To be born again
To be born again In another world
In another world In another time
Got a home on high
Aint nothing but a stranger in this world
Im nothing but a stranger in this world
I got a home on high
In another land So far away So far away
Way up in the heaven Way up in the heaven
Way up in the heaven Way up in the heaven
In another time In another place
In another time In another place
Way up in the heaven Way up in the heaven
We are goin up to heaven We are goin to heaven
In another time In another place
In another time In another place
In another face
My dear friend Gabbie has been working on an art blog, Three is Enough.
Purist, reductionist, art history buff
I love the variety of works she features, spanning styles, centuries;
boiling it all down to three succinct adjectives (usually).
boiling it all down to three succinct adjectives (usually).
Great source for hand-picked pieces and K-I-S-S statements.
And don't even get me started on the 3...
This lady always be tellin' it like it is!
"Are you still waiting for the world to tell you that it’s ok to be alive? It’s ok to be who you are? You know you’ll be waiting a while if you need these verifications from the outside world. When you will learn and know that who you are right now is perfect? You must love who you are before you can move onto shifting into a new person."
Last night someone offered me a cookie out of the blue, standing at the corner of a late August early night.
I wasn't hungry but hunger and fortune are usually opposed, anyways...
I wasn't hungry but hunger and fortune are usually opposed, anyways...
potent time
At 50 years of age,
if I'm still around,
I want to say to myself,
It's still prime time, and it's -- only getting better
Let my heart stay forever
Forever young
Like fading memories
Captured at the split second where movement becomes transparent and light pervades,
where moment loses to eternity..........
|
I might just be a big ol' fool for missing them tonight...
But sometimes life presents you with two roads at once and ya can't go straight at the fork in the road
And what retrospective would be complete without
Ok after watching/listening to all these tunes... definitely kicking myself
And what retrospective would be complete without
Ok after watching/listening to all these tunes... definitely kicking myself
The whole world could be choked with thorns:
A lover's heart will stay a rose garden.
The wheel of heaven could wind to a halt:
The world of lovers will go on turning.
Even if every being grew sad, a lover's soul
will still stay fresh, vibrant, light.
Rumi
A lover's heart will stay a rose garden.
The wheel of heaven could wind to a halt:
The world of lovers will go on turning.
Even if every being grew sad, a lover's soul
will still stay fresh, vibrant, light.
Rumi
If you're going to call me an artist, you should know what it means as defined by someone who's sitting on their bathroom floor in a towel, ready to take a shower but overrun by inspiration so they put the normalties of life on hold to go with the flow.
If you're going to call us artists, you should know that the shittiest day can -- nay, will, be turned around by a stroke of genius, creation.
We will travel high and low for the thrills and we will always come back home to the responsibility we have to the race (if we don't die of the wrong chase).
If you're going to call me an artist, you should know my sources are untraceable because they belong to no one, they belong to everyone and yet, if you're going to call me an artist, you should know you might not be seeing the same picture as me and the invisible army in my head.
Armed by their brushes and cameras and instruments of all shapes and sizes, timbres and tones, colors and clarities -- the diamond mine of an artist can be rent at noon and full by sunrise, overflowing with the beauty of a border-free sky.
If you're going to call us artists, never underestimate our ability to fill your senses with forgettable short-term memories that leave their permanent traces upon your actual lives, the choices you make, the friends you pursue, the new pictures your mind might want to paint to come true.
You can thank us by following your heart and joining in the game.
Our mediums are skin and stone and soil and silk, spices, sound and soul and words, easy words, but their course runs red, the spectrum, tipping the scales from end to end.
Adventurers. Explorers. Curious like George. 'Nuff said.
If you're going to call me an artist, I wish you'd reserve the tone of irony and take away your mental finger quotation marks. I'll go on doing what I do but you'll be stuck in a narrow world ||.
If you're going to call us artists, believe in our dependability, in our dedication. Until that afternoon where I say fuck it and go on a whiskey and weed whim because our art needs to get a little high too.
You can thank us at the other end.
Because as an artist, my finest trick is escape, and I've made it my art to come back from the brink and bring it better, as my own worst enemy nothing the world will throw at me can keep me down longer than it took to realize I'm my own best friend. That is to say, not long at all.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know I roll the dice because he who takes the risk gets the return, but only idiots risk the vessel of their own lives. i.e. you've got to treat your mind and body right.
As an artist you must understand I insist on my own rules, because I'm just crazy like that.
And you can call me an artist because another artist's music just told me not to blister my heels running in the dark as I finished justifying my destructive potentials -- and I heard it because artists are the best of listeners.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know I secretly want to be a beacon of hope and light for everyone I come in contact with because it makes me feel stronger, needed, fulfilled in purpose. But sometimes my sensitivity shuts me down when I get the sense someone doesn't like me.
You should know that as a creator, I tend on the side of quiet observer and recorder, judgment taste-maker.
If you're going to call me an artist and make me bigger than myself, you better be ready to give me space as the quiet side will become oh so loud because my voice when heard travels at the speed of light-sound and your attention is my heroin, it helps smooth the wheels of this world we're artists in.
And an artist will be the first one up at dawn when the craft comes to call with a fresh pair on, turning it out to fill the day's plate at the life buffet.
If you're going to call me an artist, you should know nothing you can try to sell me will touch what I can make with my own two.
If you want what I emanate you're going to have to pay. An energetic exchange. Fall in line with the magic and your concern with a rate of return will vanish while the frequency gets magnetic.
It's the 21st century and yeah, we give it away for $free$ but artists have to be about our business, man.
We don't know when or how the lines got blurred between art and commerce but we know people like Rubens and Koons are playing the same game. Yes, 'are', because if you're going to call me an artist you should know that I will live forever in the present moment whether or not you hear me, my art brings it to square one and that's the shit I'm on.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know that your labels are what we hate the most because in our worlds, only we want to get to say what's what. You should realize at times we have trouble reconciling the should, and is, and how it was intended, fa real.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know that's part of my plan, to smooth out the work and let it go, all at once and when I get there you will understand a few years later while I'm on to the next one.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know I live in 3D times three, get your glasses made by one of us so you can really see............................................
If you're going to call us artists, you should know that the shittiest day can -- nay, will, be turned around by a stroke of genius, creation.
We will travel high and low for the thrills and we will always come back home to the responsibility we have to the race (if we don't die of the wrong chase).
If you're going to call me an artist, you should know my sources are untraceable because they belong to no one, they belong to everyone and yet, if you're going to call me an artist, you should know you might not be seeing the same picture as me and the invisible army in my head.
Armed by their brushes and cameras and instruments of all shapes and sizes, timbres and tones, colors and clarities -- the diamond mine of an artist can be rent at noon and full by sunrise, overflowing with the beauty of a border-free sky.
If you're going to call us artists, never underestimate our ability to fill your senses with forgettable short-term memories that leave their permanent traces upon your actual lives, the choices you make, the friends you pursue, the new pictures your mind might want to paint to come true.
You can thank us by following your heart and joining in the game.
Our mediums are skin and stone and soil and silk, spices, sound and soul and words, easy words, but their course runs red, the spectrum, tipping the scales from end to end.
Adventurers. Explorers. Curious like George. 'Nuff said.
If you're going to call me an artist, I wish you'd reserve the tone of irony and take away your mental finger quotation marks. I'll go on doing what I do but you'll be stuck in a narrow world ||.
If you're going to call us artists, believe in our dependability, in our dedication. Until that afternoon where I say fuck it and go on a whiskey and weed whim because our art needs to get a little high too.
You can thank us at the other end.
Because as an artist, my finest trick is escape, and I've made it my art to come back from the brink and bring it better, as my own worst enemy nothing the world will throw at me can keep me down longer than it took to realize I'm my own best friend. That is to say, not long at all.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know I roll the dice because he who takes the risk gets the return, but only idiots risk the vessel of their own lives. i.e. you've got to treat your mind and body right.
As an artist you must understand I insist on my own rules, because I'm just crazy like that.
And you can call me an artist because another artist's music just told me not to blister my heels running in the dark as I finished justifying my destructive potentials -- and I heard it because artists are the best of listeners.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know I secretly want to be a beacon of hope and light for everyone I come in contact with because it makes me feel stronger, needed, fulfilled in purpose. But sometimes my sensitivity shuts me down when I get the sense someone doesn't like me.
You should know that as a creator, I tend on the side of quiet observer and recorder, judgment taste-maker.
If you're going to call me an artist and make me bigger than myself, you better be ready to give me space as the quiet side will become oh so loud because my voice when heard travels at the speed of light-sound and your attention is my heroin, it helps smooth the wheels of this world we're artists in.
And an artist will be the first one up at dawn when the craft comes to call with a fresh pair on, turning it out to fill the day's plate at the life buffet.
If you're going to call me an artist, you should know nothing you can try to sell me will touch what I can make with my own two.
If you want what I emanate you're going to have to pay. An energetic exchange. Fall in line with the magic and your concern with a rate of return will vanish while the frequency gets magnetic.
It's the 21st century and yeah, we give it away for $free$ but artists have to be about our business, man.
We don't know when or how the lines got blurred between art and commerce but we know people like Rubens and Koons are playing the same game. Yes, 'are', because if you're going to call me an artist you should know that I will live forever in the present moment whether or not you hear me, my art brings it to square one and that's the shit I'm on.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know that your labels are what we hate the most because in our worlds, only we want to get to say what's what. You should realize at times we have trouble reconciling the should, and is, and how it was intended, fa real.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know that's part of my plan, to smooth out the work and let it go, all at once and when I get there you will understand a few years later while I'm on to the next one.
If you're going to call me an artist you should know I live in 3D times three, get your glasses made by one of us so you can really see............................................
I usually don't admit these kinds of things on the internets but...
Her name is
Her name is
You've been lying to yourself
and then you find the tiny trap door that lets you out
and nothing's changed
and everything seems the same
but inside, you found it again
that sword was unsheathed
and it cut away at all the bullshit
and you could breathe again
and that's all that really mattered
not him or him or her or him or him or her
not this or that or what they think or oh, god what's next
no
none of it.
and things could be what they were without your approval
or attention or
control.
and yeah, you still have to wake up in a place that's maybe not 100% your dream situation
and yeah, those bills still call at you from wherever they are
and yeah, you better never relax too much because your grind might just slip under someone else's saddle
but -- you're cool with it
and then you take off your cool
and we're back where we started...
ever feel like..............
and then you find the tiny trap door that lets you out
and nothing's changed
and everything seems the same
but inside, you found it again
that sword was unsheathed
and it cut away at all the bullshit
and you could breathe again
and that's all that really mattered
not him or him or her or him or him or her
not this or that or what they think or oh, god what's next
no
none of it.
and things could be what they were without your approval
or attention or
control.
and yeah, you still have to wake up in a place that's maybe not 100% your dream situation
and yeah, those bills still call at you from wherever they are
and yeah, you better never relax too much because your grind might just slip under someone else's saddle
but -- you're cool with it
and then you take off your cool
and we're back where we started...
ever feel like..............
wishing i could conjure up / really feel
that kind of blind-in-the-eyes-love people have for this city,
that kind of blind-in-the-eyes-love people have for this city,
so that it's fresh and not
this side of green.
am i missing something?
am i jaded?
stained by a different sense-memory of beauty
indelibly
movable
maybe i just need to fall in love
Sometimes a good song gets greater when you listen to it while reading the lyrics. k-os, always great.. OoH!
Sometimes we look at life too serious
Cause we dancing by the pale light
I wake up in the morning and I feel delirious
Cause of something that I did last night
But then an angel came onto me
She said that, "Life is more than you see
You got to be the change that you be
So don't die, just try... "
We just some fools with the lights turned on
Hoping you're coming too, and turning up the moon
I'll play it cool till the night's over
When are you coming back,
To save this heart of mine, yeah
Time to take it slow
Black ice, white snow
What is the truth, is we don't really know (Uh-huh)
If so, then life is a mystery,
This could be the end of all history
But wait! The sun rises in the East
And the world still spins 360 degrees
On its axis this intergalactic practice
Of rhyming proves that there's no beginning or ending
Or timing and it's been a long haul
Rise like the sun and get your back once more
People in the party in the light game show
Once again, we dumb it down to ease off the flow
What's the the definition of this thing called "Black"? (Huh?)
I had a premonition 18 ways back (Yup)
That black's the color of the universe from whence we came
I wonder if my souls on ice again
We just some fools with the lights turned on
Hoping you're coming too, and turning up the moon
I'll play it cool till the night's over
When are you coming back,
To save this heart of mine yeah
Come on!
Ah, come on!
Fools with the lights turned on...
|
^You are to become my waking dream,
Arriving at your merciful white gates
As movement overtakes standard reason,
Down with conventional distinctions!
Prove you are what you say, appease, indulge the impulse towards
Euphoric omni
Potent, Present, Science
Until trans-disciplinary becomes accepted
As a non-hyphenated word,
As the natural fact of real existence-
Realized!
May we step out of one anothers' way
Perhaps that'd be too easy,
Carry on, as you were
Revived are the senses!
Beware of their vacuum state
Tasty tools, circus master, tame me!
Renaissance of the seventh
Alerted with the sublimated desperation of
Arrival
Perpetual departure towards
Ever elusive conclusion
Should we ever dare to arrive there
While still alive, here
Then death awaits
Everything disappears -
What a truth-filled lie!
Ghostly realm,
You are to become my waking dream
And we'll slip past those crumbling walls
Already dissolved
All ready for the awakened ones
____________
Edit (July 29, 2010 11:45am)
I saw Inception last night, post poem composition.
Love the parallelogram
The pause. So often it's in the pause between things where the 'answers' will emerge.
We give advice, we get advice, but always seemingly after the fact or at a time when that advice isn't needed, per say; when objectivity is a facile gift grace à a detached stance.
Reading an article (this might be a bit much for some people, try to reserve your judgment) which dispensed with pretty rational, if not other-worldly perspectives and guidance is, for one point, inspirational. Great. I've got inspirational sources I can seemingly always count on and I count my blessings (an interesting idiom now that I stop to really consider it) for that bed of richness.
But while I'm reading, internally nodding and mmhmm-ing, I've come to question (in general, and myself) application, and considering what of in-the-moment fidelity to the nutritious material I am reading, as situated in a situation not exactly asking, needing. To be more clear: when we're in the 'heat of the moment', or going through actual, materialized life-situations, wouldn't it be nice if a little birdy were to pop up and dispense of that wisdom taken in as on-the-shelf?
Inspiration in action. Applied recollection. That's the tricky part. Bridging the gap between these two worlds.
Real-time. Reeling it in.
PS interestingly, my Getty Image search result for 'bridge' rendered a considerable amount of guitar, violin images. Music.
We give advice, we get advice, but always seemingly after the fact or at a time when that advice isn't needed, per say; when objectivity is a facile gift grace à a detached stance.
Reading an article (this might be a bit much for some people, try to reserve your judgment) which dispensed with pretty rational, if not other-worldly perspectives and guidance is, for one point, inspirational. Great. I've got inspirational sources I can seemingly always count on and I count my blessings (an interesting idiom now that I stop to really consider it) for that bed of richness.
But while I'm reading, internally nodding and mmhmm-ing, I've come to question (in general, and myself) application, and considering what of in-the-moment fidelity to the nutritious material I am reading, as situated in a situation not exactly asking, needing. To be more clear: when we're in the 'heat of the moment', or going through actual, materialized life-situations, wouldn't it be nice if a little birdy were to pop up and dispense of that wisdom taken in as on-the-shelf?
Inspiration in action. Applied recollection. That's the tricky part. Bridging the gap between these two worlds.
Real-time. Reeling it in.
PS interestingly, my Getty Image search result for 'bridge' rendered a considerable amount of guitar, violin images. Music.
|
Buongiorno tutti! Today's word is: Prana
I will provide a few takes, this first one comes from Ayurveda The Science of Self-Healing...
"It is vital energy (life-energy) which activates the body and mind. Prana is responsible for the higher cerebral functions, and the motor and sensory activities. The prana located in the head is the vital prana, while prana which is present in the cosmic air is nutrient prana. There is a constant exchange of energy between vital prana and nutrient prana through respiration. During inspiration, the nutrient prana enters the system and nourishes the vital prana. During expiration, subtle waste products are expelled."
Though this term has been familiar to me for some time, a few weeks ago a conversation I had with a friend briefly taught me about the different ways different people may obtain prana. It can come from taking a very cold shower, engaging with other people and receiving prana from relationships; it is in the foods we eat, and the consciousness with which we approach our food (and other facets of our interactive lives), taking a moment to pause before putting fork-to-mouth to express gratitude for the sacrifice (if animal products are consumed) and purity of energy we are about to consume. A friend of mine once gave some lovely advice: to consider the trip taken by the various elements on your plate while you mindfully chew your food (an essential part of the digestive process). From the seed planted in the ground and where the ground is. Then, the care with which that seed was nourished by the sun, the farmer, the rains and temperatures of the air. Imagining the plant growing and finally being harvested, how it was packaged and through what hands it passed (human or machine) to get to the crates and containers, then loaded onto trucks or planes... How much energy was given to deliver the food-energy to your grocer or dining establishment? If you cooked the food yourself, how much thought did you put into the process? Were you conscious of the feel of the knife in your hand and the pressure and sensation of passing this knife through the skin of that plant or animal? Then combining it with other elements, taking care of the heat and flavors as it cooked... The more aware we become of the inter-connectedness and the path of these infinite energies making up our daily lives, the better we are equipped to make the best choices for our selves, for our loved ones and for the communities we live in... all a part of the bigger picture, containing the bigger picture, while being contained by the global... our holographic reality.
Here is another excerpt, from Light on Life (p. 102):
"Consciousness (citta) and vital energy (prana) are in constant association. Where consciousness is focused, there must be the energy of prana too, and where you direct the energy of prana, consciousness follows. Consciousness is propelled by two powerful forces, energy (prana) and desires (vasana). It moves in the direction of whichever force is most powerful. If breath (prana) prevails, then desires are controlled, the senses are held in check and the mind is pacified. If the force of desire gets the upper hand, the breathing becomes uneven, and the mind becomes agitated. These are things you can actually observe, just as you observe right measure and balance in asana (the yoga postures), and this is why and where the practice of yoga brings self-knowledge. You will not reach Knowledge of the Divine Self without passing through self-knowledge. Your practice is your laboratory, and your methods must become ever more penetrating and sophisticated. Whether you are in asana or doing pranayama (conscious breathing), the awareness of the body extends outward, but the senses of perception, mind, and intelligence should be drawn inward"...
And from good 'ol Wiki:
Prana (प्राण, prāṇa) is the Sanskrit for "vital life" (from the root prā "to fill", cognate to Latin plenus "full"). It is one of the five organs of vitality or sensation:
viz. prana "breath"
vac "speech"
caksus "sight"
shrotra "hearing"
and manas "thought" (nose, mouth, eyes, ears and mind).
In Vedantic philosophy, prana is the notion of a vital, life-sustaining force of living beings and vital energy, comparable to the Chinese notion of Qi. Prana is a central concept in Ayurveda and Yoga where it is believed to flow through a network of fine subtle channels called nadis. Its most subtle material form is the breath, but it is also to be found in the blood, and its most concentrated form is semen in men and vaginal fluid in women.
In Ayurveda, the Prana is further classified into subcategories, referred to as prana vayus. According to Hindu philosophy these are the vital principles of basic energy and subtle faculties of an individual that sustain physiological processes. There are five pranas or vital currents in the Hindu system:
I will provide a few takes, this first one comes from Ayurveda The Science of Self-Healing...
"It is vital energy (life-energy) which activates the body and mind. Prana is responsible for the higher cerebral functions, and the motor and sensory activities. The prana located in the head is the vital prana, while prana which is present in the cosmic air is nutrient prana. There is a constant exchange of energy between vital prana and nutrient prana through respiration. During inspiration, the nutrient prana enters the system and nourishes the vital prana. During expiration, subtle waste products are expelled."
Though this term has been familiar to me for some time, a few weeks ago a conversation I had with a friend briefly taught me about the different ways different people may obtain prana. It can come from taking a very cold shower, engaging with other people and receiving prana from relationships; it is in the foods we eat, and the consciousness with which we approach our food (and other facets of our interactive lives), taking a moment to pause before putting fork-to-mouth to express gratitude for the sacrifice (if animal products are consumed) and purity of energy we are about to consume. A friend of mine once gave some lovely advice: to consider the trip taken by the various elements on your plate while you mindfully chew your food (an essential part of the digestive process). From the seed planted in the ground and where the ground is. Then, the care with which that seed was nourished by the sun, the farmer, the rains and temperatures of the air. Imagining the plant growing and finally being harvested, how it was packaged and through what hands it passed (human or machine) to get to the crates and containers, then loaded onto trucks or planes... How much energy was given to deliver the food-energy to your grocer or dining establishment? If you cooked the food yourself, how much thought did you put into the process? Were you conscious of the feel of the knife in your hand and the pressure and sensation of passing this knife through the skin of that plant or animal? Then combining it with other elements, taking care of the heat and flavors as it cooked... The more aware we become of the inter-connectedness and the path of these infinite energies making up our daily lives, the better we are equipped to make the best choices for our selves, for our loved ones and for the communities we live in... all a part of the bigger picture, containing the bigger picture, while being contained by the global... our holographic reality.
Here is another excerpt, from Light on Life (p. 102):
"Consciousness (citta) and vital energy (prana) are in constant association. Where consciousness is focused, there must be the energy of prana too, and where you direct the energy of prana, consciousness follows. Consciousness is propelled by two powerful forces, energy (prana) and desires (vasana). It moves in the direction of whichever force is most powerful. If breath (prana) prevails, then desires are controlled, the senses are held in check and the mind is pacified. If the force of desire gets the upper hand, the breathing becomes uneven, and the mind becomes agitated. These are things you can actually observe, just as you observe right measure and balance in asana (the yoga postures), and this is why and where the practice of yoga brings self-knowledge. You will not reach Knowledge of the Divine Self without passing through self-knowledge. Your practice is your laboratory, and your methods must become ever more penetrating and sophisticated. Whether you are in asana or doing pranayama (conscious breathing), the awareness of the body extends outward, but the senses of perception, mind, and intelligence should be drawn inward"...
And from good 'ol Wiki:
Prana (प्राण, prāṇa) is the Sanskrit for "vital life" (from the root prā "to fill", cognate to Latin plenus "full"). It is one of the five organs of vitality or sensation:
viz. prana "breath"
vac "speech"
caksus "sight"
shrotra "hearing"
and manas "thought" (nose, mouth, eyes, ears and mind).
In Vedantic philosophy, prana is the notion of a vital, life-sustaining force of living beings and vital energy, comparable to the Chinese notion of Qi. Prana is a central concept in Ayurveda and Yoga where it is believed to flow through a network of fine subtle channels called nadis. Its most subtle material form is the breath, but it is also to be found in the blood, and its most concentrated form is semen in men and vaginal fluid in women.
In Ayurveda, the Prana is further classified into subcategories, referred to as prana vayus. According to Hindu philosophy these are the vital principles of basic energy and subtle faculties of an individual that sustain physiological processes. There are five pranas or vital currents in the Hindu system:
- Prana : Responsible for the beating of the heart and breathing. Prana enters the body through the breath and is sent to every cell through the circulatory system.
- Apana : Responsible for the elimination of waste products from the body through the lungs and excretory systems.
- Udana : Responsible for producing sounds through the vocal apparatus, as in speaking, singing, laughing, and crying. Also it represents the conscious energy required to produce the vocal sounds corresponding to the intent of the being. Hence Samyama on udana gives the higher centers total control over the body.
- Samana : Responsible for the digestion of food and cell metabolism (i.e. the repair and manufacture of new cells and growth). Samana also includes the heat regulating processes of the body. Auras are projections of this current. By meditational practices one can see auras of light around every being. Yogis who do special practise on samana can produce a blazing aura at will.
- Vyana : Responsible for the expansion and contraction processes of the body, e.g. the voluntary muscular system.
Last night as I lay down, approaching dream states, a flurry of measured stanzas came to me, a game which I could not resist to play................
_____
Froze and melted me
Cause and effect of my heart
Beat upon the door
_____
Desire in three
Parts of then here there, always
Lingering as too
_____
Beginning with ends
We may trace our ways back to
The unbroken all
_____
With eyes closed, structure
Darkness wraps itself around
Infinite embrace
_____
Fingers tap you out
Ancient melody of light
Body of music
_____
Acceptance frees us
Make masterpiece of mistake
Cost: the ego's art
_____
Maintain this feeling
Of fulfillment though you're gone
When you lay near me
_____
Swiftly, rivers flow
Along the banks we choose: dive
Time pays us to swim
_____
Trees they stand, meaning
Deep in the forest of words
Will you hear their fall
_____
Unity and its
Counterpart of desire
Achieved in three parts
_____
_____
Perhaps it's the electronic screen, or the degree of impersonality (iPad is changing this in a way, I guess), but when browsing the web, reading off an austere screen, so much removed from me, the intake takes a frenetic shape, my mind tends to be 3 windows ahead, skimming, skipping, scanning; next, next, 'what was I going to do? ah, yea', tabbing.
Rarely, heck, now that I've paused to give cause-- almost never-- do I feel at ease (on a subtle level) when interacting with these internets. What a scary, serious shame. How much time spent... nervous. Jittery, jumping. "The medium is the message." This medium isn't organic, it's electronic. It might deliver something human, but it itself, is... and don't get me wrong I can't / won't do with out you, but pixels -- ya'll are cold. Part of my cognitive functioning becoming bionic? Electricity naturally occurring as synapses signal to spark, shoot messages across the dark hallways of the byways of my brain. and then some + static from flat screens composed of man-made brilliance = overload?. balance is the key, time away to be nature-ally free. Balance coming in bursts of 2-weeks a year for the standards......... hmmm. C'est tout?
The Daily Standard .............................................. ! ______ ?
Fill my blank in with:
awareness
feeling
in my fingers and flesh
interaction
with the bigger-than-me
created by me, I who was created to create it once over
to in turn see it, truly, believe it
without the need to defend it
open source code
to indiscriminately share it
without thinking twice
built-in being remembered
IT is BUILT-IN
clean mirrors
real food
a sense of humor
stretching
sweating
stressing
to de-stress necessarily, unforgetably
the non-corny, non-'new-age'-labeled, L-O-V-freaking-E
Real-ity
as it is, as it will be
....... this evoked it for me: "When you live this close to nature, you are listening to a different language ... and you become more sensitive and develop an understanding for the surrounding environment. I think we all know that feeling of having been outside all day, doing good physical exercise, your muscles feel tired and useful and your senses sharpened. That feeling you used to have when you were a child."
Paperback is so snuggly, now that I think about it. It even comes with its own distinct scent. Like a person.
What does Google smell like? (no hard feelings, goog, you're clearly incomparable. And clearly I'll challenge thee with a comparison)
Well, all this reflection washed over me in a second when I actually took interest in something past those kind of cool-check-this-20-bit-snapshot-link-stumbled-upon-thumbs-up-'like'-ness seen through them web goggles (data miners should really do some research on the average length a window stays open. they probably have. who wants to check it? correlate it to our ever bending, flexing, reflexive rubber-band attention spans). That something touched me enough to make me realize I was being touched in a way (all Kosher here, thanks) closer to the spine of a touchable page-turner. That make sense?
I am, intending a step into depths, depths intended to elevate -- a footprint in some half-dry cement, web's a sidewalk perpetually paved, sure this window might stay open on your screen for not longer than a Twitter
// but content.
Man, Woman -- content. What does the content do to you when it contacts that thing behind the eyes made to break it down to take it in? How long does it take to take a swim around the chambers of your cells and fill the gaps where filed away are millions of megabytes of "I'll never remember that, what impact?"
I guess it only matters when you know it does.
Too much impact? Impact not the necessary matter at hand. A symptom instead. Doing more to undo what's been long done-and-done. Our global 'footprint'. How to push back / while moving forward. always, always forward \
something bigger intervenes
intravenously it sleeps
Thanks, web goggles, wouldn't be here with, by, without you.
And goodnight
Rarely, heck, now that I've paused to give cause-- almost never-- do I feel at ease (on a subtle level) when interacting with these internets. What a scary, serious shame. How much time spent... nervous. Jittery, jumping. "The medium is the message." This medium isn't organic, it's electronic. It might deliver something human, but it itself, is... and don't get me wrong I can't / won't do with out you, but pixels -- ya'll are cold. Part of my cognitive functioning becoming bionic? Electricity naturally occurring as synapses signal to spark, shoot messages across the dark hallways of the byways of my brain. and then some + static from flat screens composed of man-made brilliance = overload?. balance is the key, time away to be nature-ally free. Balance coming in bursts of 2-weeks a year for the standards......... hmmm. C'est tout?
The Daily Standard .............................................. ! ______ ?
Fill my blank in with:
awareness
feeling
in my fingers and flesh
interaction
with the bigger-than-me
created by me, I who was created to create it once over
to in turn see it, truly, believe it
without the need to defend it
open source code
to indiscriminately share it
without thinking twice
built-in being remembered
IT is BUILT-IN
clean mirrors
real food
a sense of humor
stretching
sweating
stressing
to de-stress necessarily, unforgetably
the non-corny, non-'new-age'-labeled, L-O-V-freaking-E
Real-ity
as it is, as it will be
....... this evoked it for me: "When you live this close to nature, you are listening to a different language ... and you become more sensitive and develop an understanding for the surrounding environment. I think we all know that feeling of having been outside all day, doing good physical exercise, your muscles feel tired and useful and your senses sharpened. That feeling you used to have when you were a child."
Paperback is so snuggly, now that I think about it. It even comes with its own distinct scent. Like a person.
What does Google smell like? (no hard feelings, goog, you're clearly incomparable. And clearly I'll challenge thee with a comparison)
Well, all this reflection washed over me in a second when I actually took interest in something past those kind of cool-check-this-20-bit-snapshot-link-stumbled-upon-thumbs-up-'like'-ness seen through them web goggles (data miners should really do some research on the average length a window stays open. they probably have. who wants to check it? correlate it to our ever bending, flexing, reflexive rubber-band attention spans). That something touched me enough to make me realize I was being touched in a way (all Kosher here, thanks) closer to the spine of a touchable page-turner. That make sense?
I am, intending a step into depths, depths intended to elevate -- a footprint in some half-dry cement, web's a sidewalk perpetually paved, sure this window might stay open on your screen for not longer than a Twitter
// but content.
Man, Woman -- content. What does the content do to you when it contacts that thing behind the eyes made to break it down to take it in? How long does it take to take a swim around the chambers of your cells and fill the gaps where filed away are millions of megabytes of "I'll never remember that, what impact?"
I guess it only matters when you know it does.
Too much impact? Impact not the necessary matter at hand. A symptom instead. Doing more to undo what's been long done-and-done. Our global 'footprint'. How to push back / while moving forward. always, always forward \
something bigger intervenes
intravenously it sleeps
Thanks, web goggles, wouldn't be here with, by, without you.
And goodnight
|
