Monday, March 30, 2015
there is no 'non' in life, 'non' doesn't count
i am tired and sad but a relationship which causes imbalance howsoever beautiful stops the ability to walk.i have to return to the source of my very own happiness inside. the absence of illusion is an illusion. there is no non-illusion as there is no non-nothing and no non-being. the acceptance and awareness of illusion belongs to the way to wisdom. to continue to suffer from a recognized illusion once you know better is silly. really, there is always a way out, even if the path can be hard and harsh as we have to act in accordance with our own insufficiency and deficiencies. in the end it doesn't matter what i expect but what i want. the only sin is to act against better knowledge. i share this, it will soon be Easter: please don't glorify suffering. be open for true joy, share when you can, and live as happy as you can. i try.
maybe everybody is a snake
maybe everybody is a snake
coiled up in sleep and
shimmering like a rainbow,
hissing when disturbed
spitting poison on the enemy,
hungrily attacking its prey
or just digesting and tired,
changing hideouts with the seasons
maybe everybody is a monster
lurking underground
moving without sound
with a lust to eat souls
maybe everybody is an angel,
walks in indifference,
has no language to be heard,
but wings made of moonlight
cold and beautiful.
and maybe everybody can fly
but does not know
the ways of the sky.
and just maybe
everybody can be a light
permeating blood and heart
into a dance of joy
coiled up in sleep and
shimmering like a rainbow,
hissing when disturbed
spitting poison on the enemy,
hungrily attacking its prey
or just digesting and tired,
changing hideouts with the seasons
maybe everybody is a monster
lurking underground
moving without sound
with a lust to eat souls
maybe everybody is an angel,
walks in indifference,
has no language to be heard,
but wings made of moonlight
cold and beautiful.
and maybe everybody can fly
but does not know
the ways of the sky.
and just maybe
everybody can be a light
permeating blood and heart
into a dance of joy
Leonce und Lena, Georg Büchner
"Dann – habe ich nachzudenken, wie es wohl angehn mag, daß ich mir auf den Kopf sehe. O, wer sich einmal auf den Kopf sehen könnte! Das ist eins von meinen Idealen. Mir wäre geholfen."
Nun, das geht. Aber es hilft nichts. Ein langweiliges Amüsement, allein, in den Kopf, auf den Kopf zu sehen.
Mit ein klein wenig Mühe kann man sich sogar auf den Kopf spucken.
"Erste Szene
Ein Garten Leonce halb ruhend auf einer Bank. Der Hofmeister.
LEONCE. Mein Herr, was wollen Sie von mir? Mich auf meinen Beruf vorbereiten? Ich habe alle Hände voll zu tun, ich weiß mir vor Arbeit nicht zu helfen. – Sehen Sie, erst habe ich auf den Stein hier dreihundertfünfundsechzigmal hintereinander zu spucken. Haben Sie das noch nicht probiert? Tun Sie es, es gewährt eine ganz eigne Unterhaltung. Dann – sehen Sie diese Handvoll Sand? Er nimmt Sand auf, wirft ihn in die Höhe und fängt ihn mit dem Rücken der Hand wieder auf. – Jetzt werf ich sie in die Höhe. Wollen wir wetten? Wieviel Körnchen hab ich jetzt auf dem Handrücken? Grad oder ungrad? – Wie? Sie wollen nicht wetten? Sind Sie ein Heide? Glauben Sie an Gott? Ich wette gewöhnlich mit mir selbst und kann es tagelang so treiben. Wenn Sie einen Menschen aufzutreiben wissen, der Lust hätte, manchmal mit mir zu wetten, so werden Sie mich sehr verbinden. Dann – habe ich nachzudenken, wie es wohl angehn mag, daß ich mir auf den Kopf sehe. O, wer sich einmal auf den Kopf sehen könnte! Das ist eins von meinen Idealen. Mir wäre geholfen. Und dann – und dann noch unendlich viel der Art. – Bin ich ein Müßiggänger? Habe ich jetzt keine Beschäftigung? – Ja, es ist traurig ...
HOFMEISTER. Sehr traurig, Euer Hoheit.
LEONCE. Daß die Wolken schon seit drei Wochen von Westen nach Osten ziehen. Es macht mich ganz melancholisch.
HOFMEISTER. Eine sehr gegründete Melancholie.
LEONCE. Mensch, warum widersprechen Sie mir nicht? Sie haben dringende Geschäfte, nicht wahr? Es ist mir leid, daß ich Sie so lange aufgehalten habe. Der Hofmeister entfernt sich mit einer tiefen Verbeugung. Mein Herr, ich gratuliere Ihnen zu der schönen Parenthese, die Ihre Beine machen, wenn Sie sich verbeugen.
LEONCE allein, streckt sich auf der Bank aus. Die Bienen sitzen so träg an den Blumen, und der Sonnenschein liegt so faul auf dem Boden. Es krassiert ein entsetzlicher Müßiggang. – Müßiggang ist aller Laster Anfang. – Was die Leute nicht alles aus Langeweile treiben! Sie studieren aus Langeweile, sie beten aus Langeweile, sie verlieben, verheiraten und vermehren sich aus Langeweile und sterben endlich aus Langeweile, und – und das ist der Humor davon – alles mit den wichtigsten Gesichtern, ohne zu merken, warum, und meinen Gott weiß was dazu. Alle diese Helden, diese Genies, diese Dummköpfe, diese Heiligen, diese Sünder, diese Familienväter sind im Grunde nichts als raffinierte Müßiggänger. – Warum muß ich es gerade wissen? Warum kann ich mir nicht wichtig werden und der armen Puppe einen Frack anziehen und einen Regenschirm in die Hand geben, daß sie sehr rechtlich und sehr nützlich und sehr moralisch würde? – Der Mann, der eben von mir ging, ich beneidete ihn, ich hätte ihn aus Neid prügeln mögen. O, wer einmal jemand anders sein könnte! Nur 'ne Minute lang. – Valerio, etwas betrunken, tritt auf. Wie der Mensch läuft! Wenn ich nur etwas unter der Sonne wüßte, was mich noch könnte laufen machen."
Prinzessin auf der Erbse, Princess and the Pea
This illustration came from:
Andersen, Hans Christian. The Snow Queen and Other Stories from Hans Andersen. Edmund Dulac, illustrator. London: Hodder & Stoughton 1911.
When a princess gets older, a woman used to be courted and to have a free choice , she usually cannot change her ways. She will complain. Then she will find pea after pea and then another pea on which she has to bed herself: her self. And then, there is no amount of mattresses which will take the pain.
Nothing at all will help but to leave the bed and walk until she finds her lost heart underneath.
well, this is not a nice story, it is not nice in Grimm's story to decide this way that somebody is a princess, and it is even really bad to make your son marry a princess who has only the quality to feel pain from a pea.
"my" princess has more qualities, for sure.
she is a princess, in essence.
only a bit opinionated and always
ready to give unwanted advice.
but then, i am not nice.
(on: "choosing from top right")
but then, i am not nice.
(on: "choosing from top right")
who will win: the senselessness of suffering on purpose or demand
who will win
my wish to die
or my wish to live
Easter is coming, the glorification of
blood and suffering.
I hate it.
it is there anyway, each day.
why this glorification,
why?
is heaven to be reached by suffering
or through loving?
I think both not but through kindness
and awareness.
My birthday ahead, 65 years, it doesn't say anything to me.
just a number.
but to be just a number is hard to take.
to end as a failed experiment, subjected to it by
choice, free will or not.
this time i managed to say no.
i do not look for suffering.
i cannot glorify it.
please, whoever reads this, do not think
that suffering will make you stronger
or purify you or free you from sin,
there is only one sin,
to act against better knowledge.
Gloria....next post
my wish to die
or my wish to live
Easter is coming, the glorification of
blood and suffering.
I hate it.
it is there anyway, each day.
why this glorification,
why?
is heaven to be reached by suffering
or through loving?
I think both not but through kindness
and awareness.
My birthday ahead, 65 years, it doesn't say anything to me.
just a number.
but to be just a number is hard to take.
to end as a failed experiment, subjected to it by
choice, free will or not.
this time i managed to say no.
i do not look for suffering.
i cannot glorify it.
please, whoever reads this, do not think
that suffering will make you stronger
or purify you or free you from sin,
there is only one sin,
to act against better knowledge.
Gloria....next post
nothing comes from nothing and vice versa
words are not a voice.
presence is not closeness.
the lack of sex between man and woman
is only a symptom for an inability
of being close, nothing else.
to fear closeness may be a deficiency of feeling, a fear to trust
and the idea that there will be a choice for happiness.
there is no choice, either there is joy or it is not there.
nobody can choose relationships, it chooses, life chooses.
it is attraction of the mind. put aside affairs.
happiness happens or it doesn't.
to love is not the wish to be loved.
but not to be loved is no way to go
together with the loved one.
presence is not closeness.
the lack of sex between man and woman
is only a symptom for an inability
of being close, nothing else.
to fear closeness may be a deficiency of feeling, a fear to trust
and the idea that there will be a choice for happiness.
there is no choice, either there is joy or it is not there.
nobody can choose relationships, it chooses, life chooses.
it is attraction of the mind. put aside affairs.
happiness happens or it doesn't.
to love is not the wish to be loved.
but not to be loved is no way to go
together with the loved one.
The White Birch ~ Solid Dirt
though the text is in parts disputable, i do like the song
Take me to the solid dirt
Invert this land
Let the stains revert
Unfold who we are
Through every scar
They used to shine like medals and stars
Take me to were the daughters swim
To tease the boys
Hearts filled to the brim
Make me believe
Your heart will not flee
Into the horizon
Towards the endless sea
Once
I was just a boy
With the urge to destroy
Once
I was just a boy
With scars to deploy
Take me to the spring that scatters
Its restless wings
Among our hearts
And we shall prevail
From this air
That breathes through everywhere
Once
I was a boy
With a need to destroy
Now
I will be a man,
I will rise from this land
Let the bells ring
Let the air sing
Let the hearts bring
Their scars and submit to spring
Through solid dirt
Take me to the solid dirt
Invert this land
Let the stains revert
Unfold who we are
Through every scar
They used to shine like medals and stars
Take me to were the daughters swim
To tease the boys
Hearts filled to the brim
Make me believe
Your heart will not flee
Into the horizon
Towards the endless sea
Once
I was just a boy
With the urge to destroy
Once
I was just a boy
With scars to deploy
Take me to the spring that scatters
Its restless wings
Among our hearts
And we shall prevail
From this air
That breathes through everywhere
Once
I was a boy
With a need to destroy
Now
I will be a man,
I will rise from this land
Let the bells ring
Let the air sing
Let the hearts bring
Their scars and submit to spring
Through solid dirt
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