So I'm here in my invioble, syllogistic realm, chewing over the hows and whys of daily eccentricity (and especially normality) that captures my mental attention. Instead of my typical confounding of the audience in a dazzling display of rhetoric, I suppose I will toe the line to near-comprehension of my meditations; For those that would concern themselves over it. (On that note, some responding speculation or feedback would be pleasant...)
Considering that life is much of an experiment, I've happened to notice that the "science" to which I hold myself throughout daily endeavors is very much more Aristotelian rather than Galilean. That is, I am much more of a describer and observer than an actual experimenter. Yes, I have conjured some subtle investigations out of amusement, but, for some reason I can't seem to recall, I really haven't put my speculation to action.
One proposal is to simply ask more questions, and be involved...perhaps no matter how invading. It's easy to take quite a liking to this, actually. When encountering moments of thoughtful silence with some, try asking what currently arrests their attention. I've taken a few off guard by it, at least the more profound types, and usually the result invokes a small bit of insight into his or her character...that is, if their answer is honest. I suppose asking about a person's innermost thougths would only appeal to those who are genuinely interested by this sort of thing though- People seeking to challenge paradigms, objectively learn and discover about ourselves...
I would like to bring up an annoyance of mine. Narrow-mindedness accompanied by the sheer apathy to discovery. Especially stereotypic claims and arrogance, of those who learn not on their own but simply digest what has been fed to them since birth, without the slightest consideration. This creates what we would call sheep. Ad hominem reigns their logical capacities, and ignorance is the maintanence man.
I most certainly do not claim infallibility (infact, most of the time I hope my speculations are wrong!) because being corrected means you have got one less viscinity of error of speculation to step within. (Not to mention that I tend to be a cynic, and a cynic being mistaken is a good thing! :D) Though, I will add, that the plains of contemplation certainly are vast and far wider than my perception.
So much so that it is easy to feel that one's mind is so often mired in fog.
Speaking of intellectual peripheries, Why are you reading this? I'm not seeking any sort of flattery; only curiosity permits me to inquire.
I would very much like to know deeply of the workings human mind, heart, soul, (and where God comes in) as well as the eyes: ah yes, perception. One thing that fascinates me exceedingly is circumstancial association. Take for example, an apple. When I say "apple," what do you envsion? Feel? What do you recall? The crisp taste? The vivid red? Delight, or perhaps a fond memory where it was involved? ...or maybe a subconscious aversion to its color? Yes, I am quite aware that many probably do not overthink or even speculate upon the concept and existance of an apple. But that is just it; various objects, colors, place, conditions etc. relatively mean something different to each of us, yet not everything means something at all, yet to some much of it does. Just one thing evokes all sorts of associations, of memory, of conditions. Its incredible, the potentials, the capacities, of the human persona.
I've come to suspect...could this conceptual association be the staple of poetry?
Even in art...especially in art, for me at least. Simply a swoosh of a line here or a particular color there; ah the capacity of design! Evoking withing us inspiration, emotion, a spark of meditation, perhaps. Likewise can be said about music, to be sure.
Lets discuss for a moment the anatomy and physiology of the motor/sensory systems in the human brain. When you decide to move, say, your foot, there is a particular chain of events leading to its movement that occurs in the frontal lobes of the brain.
As my favorite neurologist writes, "Experiments show that the primary motor cortex is concerned mainly with simple movements like wiggling your finger or smacking your lips. An area immediately in front of it, called the supplementary motor area, appears to be in charge of more complex skills such as waving good-bye and grabbing a banister. The supplementary motor acts like a master of ceremonies, passing specific instructions about the proper sequence of movements to the motor cortex. Nerve impulses that will then direct these movements travel from the motor cortex down the spinal cord to the muscles on the opposite side of the body, allowing you to wave good-bye or put on lipstick." Remember learning in grade school that the left side of brain handles the right side of the body and vice-versa?
Anyway, what I wish to know is where art is concerned. What is it that (or perhaps, "how does it?") translate our inspiration, emotion or whim into the action of expressing it upon say, a piece of paper with a paintbrush or the strings of a guitar? Where/How do my feelings come in behind that single stroke? That inclination to a line or shape? How does emotion translate into physical movement? I wonder if it can't be limited to just artistic endeavors either; perhaps a hug, a slap, a kiss. Though I can guess that such processes are probably more primitive; rooting from less complex emotions.
At any rate, I would like to finish off with a quote, and a question. Something in me yearns quietly everyday for some sort of sign of human enlightenment, though I've come to discover is found consistently on a personal basis upon scrutinization; essentially, what I mean to say is to give people a chance. Get to know them. Break paradigms. Yes, I've been dissappointed much- but the diamonds in the rough far, far outweigh the grime. The rough is simply vast terrain just waiting to be explored.
"The world shall perish not for lack of wonders, but for lack of wonder."
So I'd like to know; what's on your mind?
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
To Run, Walk, Dance, or Be Still
As I wander around in and throughout mindful tangents, I've come to establish that the very attitudes and protocols in which I carry myself aren't things I would push onto other people. For example, my ideas on love. Or my honor. Or the things I strive for and the way I choose to do so.
My existance manifests all that I am composed of; woven, of thought and experience and imagination and importantly, ideals that are meaningful to me soley because of one thing: I am me.
The way I savor life, the perspective in which I view it and others. I couldn't possibly claim that my ways are right and the only way to do things. Haha, no where near it actually. I am farfetched in certain things, but I like it. Things that might be overlooked or deemed trivial...tiny intimacies and intricasies about me that no one will ever know nor ever care to know. That is me. And I know there are other things I can hold no judgement upon because I haven't even tasted them, though I make the mistake of doing so regardless.
That is why I refrain.
I couldn't possibly push my paradigms upon others, because they are only the product of speculation and experience combined with the yearning for truth. We are all looking at the same thing from different views. It is still the same thing, only often our opinions and experiences get in the way of seeing things clearly. I say, if you are interested enough to hear my view points, then don't hesitate to ask. I welcome it. Then maybe we can put our views together and make sense of those somethings that elude our comprehension.
There is also a price in this. We risk being victims of other's speculation, as well as our own, and it is prevalent everyday as long as people prefer ignorance and deny objectivity. No, it is prevalent as long as we are human...which isn't a bad thing. I am totally imperfect and make mistakes with every breath. Another reason I know that mere "I" am no source for what is right.
People are always trying to 'correct' me with their viewpoints. Though, its not a form of correction at all but rather a form of stating the perspective-in-question differently. I know their own inhibitions get in the way of finding understanding just as my own do.
There is so much one can learn from the fewest of words, even the smallest of gestures. Language, no, living is laced with endless meanings...and subtleties. Sometimes I laugh and wonder how any of us understand each other at all. [Of course, it goes much deeper than that. Some of us prefer this- for endless reasons, to choose decepetion. And the human race makes it so very easy to decieve and be decieived. I won't hide the fact that I have taken advantage of it.] I think and observe superflously, because humans fascinate me. Often, when listening, I watch and consider not only meaning but feeling and the source from which it originates. I wish to retain and utilize awareness as best one can, one of many reasons being the desire to simply know.
To know. What a delight. To get a little further along these journeys to find the things we are meant to discover.
Yes, this is me. I don't want to tell people how to see things (that's impossible anyway. Oh the art of influence. The artisan is actually the artwork.) and I certainly am in no position to tell people how they should feel about things. That is a jouney in which we are all in progress, an individualized maturity yet to be attained.
I laugh.
After all, it is simply speculation. I dance in it.
And you are free to move however you wish, as long as you continue onward.
Who knows what contemplations there are to be made tomorrow. They vary from day to day so much that often I feel like a different person at the break of each dawn.
And sometimes, I wonder amusingly, how people really know each other at all... if our perspectives are so fickle. But that must be a good thing, I think. It is evidence of growth.
Until the next horizon, my friends.
My existance manifests all that I am composed of; woven, of thought and experience and imagination and importantly, ideals that are meaningful to me soley because of one thing: I am me.
The way I savor life, the perspective in which I view it and others. I couldn't possibly claim that my ways are right and the only way to do things. Haha, no where near it actually. I am farfetched in certain things, but I like it. Things that might be overlooked or deemed trivial...tiny intimacies and intricasies about me that no one will ever know nor ever care to know. That is me. And I know there are other things I can hold no judgement upon because I haven't even tasted them, though I make the mistake of doing so regardless.
That is why I refrain.
I couldn't possibly push my paradigms upon others, because they are only the product of speculation and experience combined with the yearning for truth. We are all looking at the same thing from different views. It is still the same thing, only often our opinions and experiences get in the way of seeing things clearly. I say, if you are interested enough to hear my view points, then don't hesitate to ask. I welcome it. Then maybe we can put our views together and make sense of those somethings that elude our comprehension.
There is also a price in this. We risk being victims of other's speculation, as well as our own, and it is prevalent everyday as long as people prefer ignorance and deny objectivity. No, it is prevalent as long as we are human...which isn't a bad thing. I am totally imperfect and make mistakes with every breath. Another reason I know that mere "I" am no source for what is right.
People are always trying to 'correct' me with their viewpoints. Though, its not a form of correction at all but rather a form of stating the perspective-in-question differently. I know their own inhibitions get in the way of finding understanding just as my own do.
There is so much one can learn from the fewest of words, even the smallest of gestures. Language, no, living is laced with endless meanings...and subtleties. Sometimes I laugh and wonder how any of us understand each other at all. [Of course, it goes much deeper than that. Some of us prefer this- for endless reasons, to choose decepetion. And the human race makes it so very easy to decieve and be decieived. I won't hide the fact that I have taken advantage of it.] I think and observe superflously, because humans fascinate me. Often, when listening, I watch and consider not only meaning but feeling and the source from which it originates. I wish to retain and utilize awareness as best one can, one of many reasons being the desire to simply know.
To know. What a delight. To get a little further along these journeys to find the things we are meant to discover.
Yes, this is me. I don't want to tell people how to see things (that's impossible anyway. Oh the art of influence. The artisan is actually the artwork.) and I certainly am in no position to tell people how they should feel about things. That is a jouney in which we are all in progress, an individualized maturity yet to be attained.
I laugh.
After all, it is simply speculation. I dance in it.
And you are free to move however you wish, as long as you continue onward.
Who knows what contemplations there are to be made tomorrow. They vary from day to day so much that often I feel like a different person at the break of each dawn.
And sometimes, I wonder amusingly, how people really know each other at all... if our perspectives are so fickle. But that must be a good thing, I think. It is evidence of growth.
Until the next horizon, my friends.
Monday, May 12, 2008
UpRooted
I feel as though I have grown much, yet in an instant a child. There is this subtle awareness...an awareness I am afraid to face, about the way I feel towards certain things. Ha ha, that is almost unbearably generic. I suppose the point is that I'm recognizing how little integrity I have towards myself; a cheat to my own.
I am an artist. I cope with the destruction through creation. It feels there are entire worlds I have to speak, incredible emotions and thoughts to express... I'm living in this byzantine brain, in worlds of metaphors. Everything encountered everyday is a mental trigger. I can't seem to get this brain to shut up at night because its running at mach speed for the sake of interpretation. Oh if I could articulate these insane deviations...
At any rate, I suppose that humans seem to fascinate me more and more everyday. They really do. "Expression" itself certainly is something...I think I've alienated myself from it for the sake of observation. I can't tell you how many moments I would love to express the profound beauty I witness day to day- the majority of it being in people's souls- It is nearly devastating. Counterbalances are everywhere, I've come to learn.
The visions of our world are free to be shaped as we see fit. Interesting how perspective affects each of us, specifically pertaining to the flow of time. I can hold an eternity in a single moment, or I can simply have a moment.
Hmm. Truth. Or shall I say words? Now there is something. Our perspectives become our truths, and these "truths" are manipulated into words. It isn't necessarily "true" in the actual sense of the word, but oh how all our varying perceptions can see the same thing differently and state it so. This, my friends, is the very whim of my existance. I laugh at such when perhaps no laughter seems fit to be deserved. I manipulate this entire concept to advantage, as my mendacious side prefers. This involves clamping my ears to unsightly verdicts, denying my being in its entirety, fact. I recognize verdict. I simply overlook these diseases.
And in the long run, perhaps that is the most destructive. To overlook worldly sickness rather than seeking out a cure. Sounds humorously familiar. In the mean time I create, to ease these lies.
I know one thing, however, as I traverse these abstract sentiments. I am waiting for something; though it is difficult to render. I am waiting to be startled.
I am an artist. I cope with the destruction through creation. It feels there are entire worlds I have to speak, incredible emotions and thoughts to express... I'm living in this byzantine brain, in worlds of metaphors. Everything encountered everyday is a mental trigger. I can't seem to get this brain to shut up at night because its running at mach speed for the sake of interpretation. Oh if I could articulate these insane deviations...
At any rate, I suppose that humans seem to fascinate me more and more everyday. They really do. "Expression" itself certainly is something...I think I've alienated myself from it for the sake of observation. I can't tell you how many moments I would love to express the profound beauty I witness day to day- the majority of it being in people's souls- It is nearly devastating. Counterbalances are everywhere, I've come to learn.
The visions of our world are free to be shaped as we see fit. Interesting how perspective affects each of us, specifically pertaining to the flow of time. I can hold an eternity in a single moment, or I can simply have a moment.
Hmm. Truth. Or shall I say words? Now there is something. Our perspectives become our truths, and these "truths" are manipulated into words. It isn't necessarily "true" in the actual sense of the word, but oh how all our varying perceptions can see the same thing differently and state it so. This, my friends, is the very whim of my existance. I laugh at such when perhaps no laughter seems fit to be deserved. I manipulate this entire concept to advantage, as my mendacious side prefers. This involves clamping my ears to unsightly verdicts, denying my being in its entirety, fact. I recognize verdict. I simply overlook these diseases.
And in the long run, perhaps that is the most destructive. To overlook worldly sickness rather than seeking out a cure. Sounds humorously familiar. In the mean time I create, to ease these lies.
I know one thing, however, as I traverse these abstract sentiments. I am waiting for something; though it is difficult to render. I am waiting to be startled.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Wherever You Go...
The day floats by all the same... yet different too. I think nearly all my blogs have at least some undertones on the concepts of passivity and activity. I don’t want to be passive and yet I have no idea where to even begin. When I stand up to go, I halt in uncetainty and ignorance. And to compensate, I write. Because writing is a form of coping, a form of gaining control.
I am terrified of complacency. I am afraid to get a good paying job and nice apartment and settle down etc etc because Im afraid I’ll like it. The simple, self-serving lifestlye of supporting oneself and indulging as a consumer.Because then I won’t want to do anything else; I may lose sight of the things that are really important and are beyond just me...the things that affect us all. I am afraid I will get caught up in america...I am afraid of that kind of "happiness."
Yet in this place...are there no other alternatives?
The worst thing is, everytime I try to get answers, I just can’t have them. Like I have to cut down the invading greenery on my own. But life is about that, isn’t it...Its really not the next thing you can achieve, its the long journey ahead. I know I tend to treat it as both, heh.
I want to know what other people are living for, what they are trying to achieve as "destiny." What are you aiming for in your life? What do you live for?
I am terrified of complacency. I am afraid to get a good paying job and nice apartment and settle down etc etc because Im afraid I’ll like it. The simple, self-serving lifestlye of supporting oneself and indulging as a consumer.Because then I won’t want to do anything else; I may lose sight of the things that are really important and are beyond just me...the things that affect us all. I am afraid I will get caught up in america...I am afraid of that kind of "happiness."
Yet in this place...are there no other alternatives?
The worst thing is, everytime I try to get answers, I just can’t have them. Like I have to cut down the invading greenery on my own. But life is about that, isn’t it...Its really not the next thing you can achieve, its the long journey ahead. I know I tend to treat it as both, heh.
I want to know what other people are living for, what they are trying to achieve as "destiny." What are you aiming for in your life? What do you live for?
Friday, March 28, 2008
Remember Me as a Time of Day
I think this is one thing that everyone can write about. It applies to all of us, and depending on who you are, it rules us too.
Time. How strange that in the same moment things can feel like they are comming down to the minute yet the hours dull and transcend, unfamiliar and intangeble...that it can be so far away.
And when those moments finally come they seem to come only when you're off guard...like, "So soon...?"
Moment. Did you know that its one of my favorite words? Moment. Its capacity alone can be so dramatic. So much can weigh upon it, yet it remains so often overlooked. I kind feel like a moment. It fits me perfectly, heh.
Remember as a Time of Day. Remember me a moment.
Hopefully not one of those moments you regret...
Anyway,One thing I mourn is the slaughter of time. So much of it dies meaninglessly, wasted, when it is now that needs to be considered. The earth pays the price for such. We all do. How can it be acceptable to live on like this?
The time to be seized is now. Nothing can wait; we are far too disconnected. Not a second of agony can allow to pass by unnoticed.
I have something deep in my heart I wish to write about; but that is an entirely different subject...and for an entirely different time. My selfishness intercedes; no matter how necessary these cries in the night must be heard, now, I cannot let my time-frame be seen, my limits revealed...because I am a fool.
My question is, would you wait? Or would you seize this stranger's words
right
now?
I close my eyes and clamp my ears to the verdict.
Time. How strange that in the same moment things can feel like they are comming down to the minute yet the hours dull and transcend, unfamiliar and intangeble...that it can be so far away.
And when those moments finally come they seem to come only when you're off guard...like, "So soon...?"
Moment. Did you know that its one of my favorite words? Moment. Its capacity alone can be so dramatic. So much can weigh upon it, yet it remains so often overlooked. I kind feel like a moment. It fits me perfectly, heh.
Remember as a Time of Day. Remember me a moment.
Hopefully not one of those moments you regret...
Anyway,One thing I mourn is the slaughter of time. So much of it dies meaninglessly, wasted, when it is now that needs to be considered. The earth pays the price for such. We all do. How can it be acceptable to live on like this?
The time to be seized is now. Nothing can wait; we are far too disconnected. Not a second of agony can allow to pass by unnoticed.
I have something deep in my heart I wish to write about; but that is an entirely different subject...and for an entirely different time. My selfishness intercedes; no matter how necessary these cries in the night must be heard, now, I cannot let my time-frame be seen, my limits revealed...because I am a fool.
My question is, would you wait? Or would you seize this stranger's words
right
now?
I close my eyes and clamp my ears to the verdict.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Bury The Sound
The earth reverberates. I stand soley in its lamentation, living, breathing in its suffering and affliction of detachment- your tears are my own, your blood is in my veins, and your sight is mine as well. Our ears are one. I shake my head and sigh at the one futility I cannot let go...
Ο πόνος μου είναι ορυχείο.
This one sigh is felt by the earth and the earth alone. No man can recognize this tangent in me, nor can he discern...
In this way, the earth and I are kin.
There are ghosts in this dimension that observe such whims...If only I could reach out to them. They are intangible.
I run from the noise, I bury its destruction.
Though the sounds they shun are the screams of agony...
I run from their gluttonous laughs- laughs that devour the very souls of the ashamed.
They dismiss the echoes of grief. Their ears prick at the accents of malice, for which they hunger to be entertained.
I run from the noise. I bury its destruction.
In me.
They relish in it. It is the lavish golden calf.
What comes in the silence of forsaken
a healing peace, the angels' passion
a strain of paradise.
Of which you refuse to know.
O latent earth, the blood poured out upon you is poison
like the words of the belligerant...
Shall you fade away in the deafening silence
before you were ever known?
Ο πόνος μου είναι ορυχείο.
This one sigh is felt by the earth and the earth alone. No man can recognize this tangent in me, nor can he discern...
In this way, the earth and I are kin.
There are ghosts in this dimension that observe such whims...If only I could reach out to them. They are intangible.
I run from the noise, I bury its destruction.
Though the sounds they shun are the screams of agony...
I run from their gluttonous laughs- laughs that devour the very souls of the ashamed.
They dismiss the echoes of grief. Their ears prick at the accents of malice, for which they hunger to be entertained.
I run from the noise. I bury its destruction.
In me.
They relish in it. It is the lavish golden calf.
What comes in the silence of forsaken
a healing peace, the angels' passion
a strain of paradise.
Of which you refuse to know.
O latent earth, the blood poured out upon you is poison
like the words of the belligerant...
Shall you fade away in the deafening silence
before you were ever known?
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Scraps
Rain
how it floods the soul
where profanities bubble up from deep cracks
of past and present
over the surface
yet letting something of a piercing grace
take its place.
Cheers
Here's to the outcasts and castaways
the derelicts and lepers
to the refugees and vagabonds
Cheers
Oh how you travel such roads of color
Will none comprehend?
You are a monument against arrogant eyes
standing for the core of humanity.
You are the light of the world.
Let us drink in better days.
how it floods the soul
where profanities bubble up from deep cracks
of past and present
over the surface
yet letting something of a piercing grace
take its place.
Cheers
Here's to the outcasts and castaways
the derelicts and lepers
to the refugees and vagabonds
Cheers
Oh how you travel such roads of color
Will none comprehend?
You are a monument against arrogant eyes
standing for the core of humanity.
You are the light of the world.
Let us drink in better days.
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