Sunday, December 30, 2012

literacki

Hommage to They Live!
A horse hair falls into the water and grows into an eel.
Even Aristotle believed that frogs
formed from mud,
that mice sprouted like seedlings in the damp hay.


I used to believe the world spoke
in code. I lay awake
and tried to parse the flashes of the streetlight—
obscured, revealed,
obscured by the wind-sprung tree.
Stranded with you at the Ferris wheel's apogee
I learned the physics
of desire—fixed at the center,
it spins and goes nowhere.


Pliny described eight-foot lobsters
sunning themselves
on the banks of the Ganges. The cuckoo devouring
its foster mother. Bees alighting
on Plato's young lips.


In the Andes, a lake disappears overnight, sucked
through cracks in the earth.
How can I explain
the sunlight stippling your face in the early morning?


Why not believe that the eye throws its own light,
that seeing illuminates
the world?
On the moon,
astronaut David Scott drops a hammer and a falcon feather,
and we learn nothing
we didn't already know.

~Ancient Theories
by Nick Lantz

ars poetica

 

The Barefoot Contessa - Joseph L. Mankiewicz
Le soleil, sur le sable, ô lutteuse endormie,
En l'or de tes cheveux chauffe un bain langoureux
Et, consumant l'encens sur ta joue ennemie,
Il mêle avec les pleurs un breuvage amoureux.

De ce blanc Flamboiement l'immuable accalmie
T'a fait dire, attristée, ô mes baisers peureux,
« Nous ne serons jamais une seule momie
Sous l'antique désert et les palmiers heureux! »

Mais ta chevelure est une rivière tiède,
Où noyer sans frissons l'âme qui nous obsède
Et trouver ce Néant que tu ne connais pas.

Je goûterai le fard pleuré par tes paupières,
Pour voir s'il sait donner au coeur que tu frappas
L'insensibilité de l'azur et des pierres.



~ Tristesse d'été ~Stéphane Mallarmé

literacki


"I know myself only insofar as I am inherent in time and in the world, that is, I know myself only in ambiguity."
— Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Phenomenology of Perception

quoth the madman

Have a nice End of the World ...
"I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees."
— Pablo Neruda

literacki


We were resigned to suffering, thinking that we loved outside ourselves, and we perceive that our love is a function of our sorrow, that our love perhaps is our sorrow…
~Marcel Proust, La Captive

literacki


There will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever really existed or that our species ever did anything at all. There will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything that we did and built and wrote and thought and discovered will be forgotten and all of this will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that’s what everyone else does.
~John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

ars poetica

who would believe them winged
who would believe they could be
beautiful who would believe
they could fall so in love with mortals
that they would attach themselves
as scars attach and ride the skin
sometimes we hear them in our dreams
rattling their skulls clicking their bony fingers
envying our crackling hair
our spice filled flesh
they have heard me beseeching
as I whispered into my own
cupped hands enough not me again
enough but who can distinguish
one human voice
amid such choruses of desire
~Sorrows by Lucille Clifton

Monday, December 17, 2012

quoth the madman

"How do I integrate spirituality into my everyday life?
Throw out the concept of “spiritual life” and “everyday life.”
There is only life, undivided and whole.
~Adyashanti

quoth the madman

Original photo from http://fuckyeahvictorians.tumblr.com/
"Melancholy redeems this universe, and yet it is melancholy that separates us from it."
— E. M. Cioran

literacki

Oslo, 31.  august - Joachim Trier
The simplicity of winter has a deep moral. The return of nature, after such a career of splendor and prodigality, to habits so simple and austere, is not lost either upon the head or the heart. It is the philosopher coming back from the banquet and the wine to a cup of water and a crust of bread.
John Burroughs, Winter Sunshine

quoth the madman

Solar Tempest
لصَّمْتُ بَابٌ مِنْ أَبْوَابِ الحِكْمَةِ، وَإنَّهُ دَلِيلٌ عَلَي‌ كُلِّ خَيْرٍ
Silence is a door from among the doors of wisdom, and it is indeed the guide to all goodness.
 - Imam al Ridha (ع)

quoth the madman

 Let’s play everywhere…
Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible in us be found.
Pema Chödrön

quoth the madman


Surprise !
Waste no more time talking about great souls
and how they should be.
Become one yourself
~Marcus Aurelius Antoninus

dialog

Pinky.
All my life I’ve been searching, wondering, talking without meaning or context. It has been nothing. Yes, I say this without bitterness or self-reproach, as I know that almost all of people’s lives are made this way. My heart is empty. And emptiness is a mirror turned to my own face. I see myself and am seized with disgust and fear. Through my indifference for people, I’ve been placed outside of their society. Now I live in a ghost world, enclosed in my dreams and imaginings.
The Seventh Seal, dir. by Ingmar Bergman, 1957.

quoth the madman

Fuck, this rocks!
You should therefore cease from practice based on intellectual understanding, pursuing words and following after speech, and learn the backward step that turns your light inwardly to illuminate your self. Body and mind of themselves will drop away, and your original face will be manifest. If you want to attain suchness, you should practice suchness without delay.
~Zen Master Dogen

quoth the madman

Drink, asshole, drink it all!  (Source unknown)
Close some doors today. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because they lead you nowhere.
~Paulo Coelho

literacki

Signal
The lesson which life repeats and constantly enforces is “look under foot.” You are always nearer the divine and the true sources of your power than you think. The lure of the distant and the difficult is deceptive. The great opportunity is where you are. Do not despise your own place and hour. Every place is under the stars, every place is the centre of the world.
John Burroughs, The Writings of John Burroughs: Leaf and Tendril

quoth the madman

Can’t keep a good man down.
The sentence “I have something” […] implies that the subject is permanent and the object is permanent. But is there permanence in the subject? Or in the object? I shall die; I may lose the social position that guarantees my having something. The object is similarly not permanent: it can be destroyed, or it can be lost, or it can lose its value. Speaking of having something permanently rests upon the illusion of a permanent and indestructible substance. If I seem to have everything, I have – in reality – nothing, since my having, possessing, controlling an object is only a transitory moment in the process of living.
~Erich Fromm, To Have or to Be?

quoth the madman


The real struggle…is about you: you, a person who has to learn to live in the real world, to inhabit her own skin, to know her own heart, to stop waiting for her life to begin.
~Caroline Knapp

quoth the madman


Be careful what you pretend to be because you are what you pretend to be.
~Kurt Vonnegut

quoth the madman

Roast Your Nuts
As Seneca understood, to free yourself from fear you must work backward. You start with the thought of your mortality. You accept and embrace this reality. You think ahead to the inevitable moment of your death and determine to face it as bravely as possible. The more you contemplate your mortality, the less you fear it—it becomes a fact you no longer have to repress. By following this path, you know how to die well, and so you can now begin to teach yourself to live well. You will not cling to things unnecessarily. You will be strong and self-reliant, unafraid to be alone. You will have a certain lightness that comes with knowing what matters—you can laugh at what others take so seriously. The pleasures of the moment are heightened because you know their impermanence and you make the most of them. And when your time to die comes, as it will some day, you will not cringe and cry for more time, because you have lived well and have no regrets.
~Robert Greene

Monday, December 3, 2012

quoth the madman


What a gulf between impression and expression!
That’s our ironic fate – to have Shakespearean feelings and to talk about them like automobile salesmen or teenagers or college professors. We practice alchemy in reverse – touch gold and it turns into lead; touch the pure lyrics of experience, and they turn into the verbal equivalents of tripe and hogwash.
~Aldous Huxley

literacki

via
It is hard going to the door
cut so small in the wall where
the vision which echoes loneliness  
brings a scent of wild flowers in a wood.
What I understood, I understand.
My mind is sometime torment,  
sometimes good and filled with livelihood,  
and feels the ground.
But I see the door,
and knew the wall, and wanted the wood,  
and would get there if I could
with my feet and hands and mind.
Lady, do not banish me  
for digressions. My nature  
is a quagmire of unresolved  
confessions. Lady, I follow.
I walked away from myself,
I left the room, I found the garden,
I knew the woman
in it, together we lay down.
Dead night remembers. In December  
we change, not multiplied but dispersed,
sneaked out of childhood,
the ritual of dismemberment.
Mighty magic is a mother,
in her there is another issue
of fixture, repeated form, the race renewal,  
the charge of the command.
The garden echoes across the room.  
It is fixed in the wall like a mirror  
that faces a window behind you  
and reflects the shadows.
May I go now?
Am I allowed to bow myself down
in the ridiculous posture of renewal,
of the insistence of which I am the virtue?
Nothing for You is untoward.  
Inside You would also be tall,  
more tall, more beautiful.
Come toward me from the wall, I want to be with You.
So I screamed to You,
ho hears as the wind, and changes  
multiply, invariably,
changes in the mind.
Running to the door, I ran down
as a clock runs down. Walked backwards,  
stumbled, sat down
hard on the floor near the wall.
Where were You.
How absurd, how vicious.
There is nothing to do but get up.
My knees were iron, I rusted in worship, of You.
For that one sings, one
writes the spring poem, one goes on walking.
The Lady has always moved to the next town  
and you stumble on after Her.
The door in the wall leads to the garden  
where in the sunlight sit
the Graces in long Victorian dresses,  
of which my grandmother had spoken.
History sings in their faces.
They are young, they are obtainable,  
and you follow after them also
in the service of God and Truth.
But the Lady is indefinable,  
she will be the door in the wall  
to the garden in sunlight.
I will go on talking forever.
I will never get there.
Oh Lady, remember me
who in Your service grows older
not wiser, no more than before.
How can I die alone.
Where will I be then who am now alone,
what groans so pathetically
in this room where I am alone?
I will go to the garden.
I will be a romantic. I will sell
myself in hell,
in heaven also I will be.
In my mind I see the door,
I see the sunlight before me across the floor
beckon to me, as the Lady’s skirt
moves small beyond it.

Robert Creeley,  “The Door

quoth the madman


Usually when we hear or read something new, we just compare it to our own ideas. If it is the same, we accept it and say that it is correct. If it is not, we say it is incorrect. In either case, we learn nothing.
~Thich Nhat Hanh

quoth the madman


Knowledge is like the ‘snake of eternity’, constantly eating itself and never finishing.
~Austin Osman Spare

literacki


There is no death in the womb that nurtures us, but the desert does not forgive anyone who betrays her. He does not merely die an alien’s death but also lives miserably…his entire life becomes a desert.
Ibrahim al-Koni, The Seven Veils of Seth

quoth the madman


You have projected onto yourself
a world of your own imagination,
based on memories, on desires and fears,
and you have imprisoned yourself in it.
Break the spell and be free.

~Nisargadatta Maharaj

literacki


In fact, God is ‘Nothing.’ Erigena knew that this sounded shocking and he warned his reader not to be afraid. His method was devised to remind us that God is not an object; he does not possess ‘being’ in any sense that we can comprehend. God is ‘He who is more than being’ (aliquo modo supersesse). His mode of existence is as different from ours as our being is from an animal’s and an animal’s is from a rock. But if God is ‘Nothing,’ he is also ‘Everything’ because this ‘super-existence’ means that God alone has true being; he is the essence of everything that partakes of this. Every one of his creatures, therefore, is a theophany, a sign of God’s presence.
Karen Armstrong, A History of God, ”The God of the Philosophers”

ars poetica

ancient-serpent:

L’inferno (1911)















I used to wonder
About living and dying—
I think the difference lies
Between tears and crying.


I used to wonder
About here and there—
I think the distance
Is nowhere.


~Langston Hughes 
 

film


quoth the madman

(via imgTumble)
I’ve begun to learn to become accustomed to change. I know that I will never find peace until I learn to accept that nothing is forever & nothing is certain. Change happens and instead of allowing it to affect my emotions negatively I should take everything as it is and continue living on. The universe sometimes sends me challenges that I do not want, but that I need.I am becoming a better me, not changing myself or becoming a different person.. I’m looking into myself and instead of following the social norm I’m doing what makes me happy, & loving every part of it. All is well in my fortress of solitude & it will continue to be as long as I keep this mind state.
Where the light is brightest, the shadows are deepest.
~Goethe

literacki


"We were resigned to suffering, thinking that we loved outside ourselves, and we perceive that our love is a function of our sorrow, that our love perhaps is our sorrow…"
— Marcel Proust, La Captive

Saturday, December 1, 2012

ars poetica

“Oh where are you going with your love-locks flowing
On the west wind blowing along this valley track?”
 
“The downhill path is easy, come with me an it please ye,
We shall escape the uphill by never turning back.”
 
So they two went together in glowing August weather,
The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right;
And dear she was to dote on, her swift feet seemed to float on
The air like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alight.
 
“Oh what is that in heaven where gray cloud-flakes are seven,
Where blackest clouds hang riven just at the rainy skirt?” 
 
“Oh that’s a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous,
An undeciphered solemn signal of help or hurt.”
 
“Oh what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly,
Their scent comes rich and sickly?”—

“A scaled and hooded worm.”
“Oh what’s that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?”
“Oh that’s a thin dead body which waits the eternal term.”
 
“Turn again, O my sweetest,—turn again, false and fleetest:
This beaten way thou beatest I fear is hell’s own track.”
 
“Nay, too steep for hill-mounting; nay, too late for cost-counting:
This downhill path is easy, but there’s no turning back.”
 
Amor Mundi By Christina Rossetti 1830–1894