"Time to leave now, get out of this room, go somewhere, anywhere; sharpen this feeling of happiness and freedom, stretch your limbs, fill your eyes, be awake, wider awake, vividly awake in every sense and every pore."
- Stefan Zweig
Whew, what a first week it was for my little existence, my little humanoid welcoming. I began a new strange scary awkward weird and transforming experience in a couple of human’s lives.
I begin at the beginning.
I fell out of my mom, a female production company last week. Talk about letting go. She was big and fat and she dropped me out, pushing and pushing and exhaled an infantile projection of freedom feeling her pain and my pleasure and I came slathering, slipping through some universal ectoplasm fluid, like a gusher, whoosh, into millions of bright shining suns. A crescendo of angels, luminous spirits, formless forms and shapes swirled like whirling Sufi dervishes along light waves and particles. Such splendor. My last nine months did little to prepare me or allow me to know anything.
I was born dead and slowly came to life.
It’s all sensation.
My tiny black eyes welcomed light energy into my being. I was a galaxy. It was awesome and mesmerizing. I was an Eagle nebula, a gathering of space dust melding, morphing into a solid state, a unified field theory. I was beside myself with wonder and delight. I joined seven billion others. I am another in the stream of life.
Did you know that the world is made up of 98% helium and hydrogen? The remaining atom particles are life and inside these atoms a very small part of that is intelligence. The rest of the pyramid is garbage.
Existence precedes essence.
Most people merrily exist.
Never trust an atom. They make up everything.
"There exists a world. In terms of probability this borders on the impossible. It would have been far more likely if, by chance, there was nothing at all. Then, at least, no one would have begun asking why there was nothing."
- Jostein Gaarder
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"In our ordinary experience, there is the world and there is you. Recognizing this does not mean that you are going against the Buddha's teaching of egolessness. There is definitely something there, which is the working basis and magic of the path. You cannot negate that you taste a good cup of coffee. You cannot say that there is no coffee and there is no you to taste it - there are such things! Mindfulness of life is based on that kind of immediate appreciation."
- Chögyam Trungpa
Mindfulness of Life Read more…
Let me make this perfectly clear.
I have never written anything because it is a Poem.
This is a mistake you always make about me,
A dangerous mistake. I promise you
I am not writing this because it is a Poem.
You suspect this is a posture or an act
I am sorry to tell you it is not an act.
You actually think I care if this
Poem gets off the ground or not. Well
I don't care if this poem gets off the ground or not
And neither should you.
All I have ever cared about
And all you should ever care about
Is what happens when you lift your eyes from this page.
Do not think for one minute it is the Poem that matters.
It is not the Poem that matters.
You can shove the Poem.
What matters is what is out there in the large dark
and in the long light,
Breathing.
- Gwendolyn MacEwen
Afterworlds
"My turn now. The story of one of my insanities.
What I liked were: absurd paintings, pictures over doorways, stage sets, carnival backdrops, billboards, bright-colored prints, old-fashioned literature, church Latin, erotic books full of misspellings, the kind of novels our grandmothers read, fairy tales, little children's books, old operas, silly old songs, the naive rhythms of country rimes.
I dreamed of Crusades, voyages of discovery that nobody had heard of, republics without histories, religious wars stamped out, revolutions in morals, movements of races and continents; I used to believe in every kind of magic.
I invented colors for the vowels. A black, E white, I red, O blue, U green. I made rules for the form and movement of every consonant, and I boasted of inventing, with rhythms from within me, a kind of poetry that all the senses, sooner or later, would recognize. And I alone would be its translator.
I began it as an investigation. I turned silences and nights into words. What was unutterable, I wrote down. I made the whirling world stand still."
- Arthur Rimbaud
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