Did you ever think again about something you used to give a lot of time to, something you did frequently with passion (no i'm not speaking about masturbation), but some ability you trained hard along the years, (ok that sounds even more like masturbation, but no, god damn it!), something that had meaning for you, and you were understanding the code and rules to do it, something that was a voice for you, a way to express who you thought you were, but now is totally senseless to you and you lost the drive?! (though the ability is still here).
I found back my sentiment for poetry, how i had found how i wanted to make it, my own way, it was easy, and it made sense about why i needed to display it.
But now i see no point for that drama, that wave of emotion, that was supposed to engulf someone, or free myself.
The problem is that words are born from the mind and not the heart.
(An emotion must be acted in the present to take form and meaning, or it becomes a frustration, an emotion must not be thought but lived, when you write you think, but writing consciously and unconditionally doesn't nurture frustration).
You think you share a truth but you're only manipulating the receiver of those words to get you the very thing that you miss in the moment you write, and because poetry is supposed to be emotional this is a psychological manipulation.
At least that's how i feel it now! (let's be clear!)
Words are useful, written or spoken, but for me now they have to be used to reach to someone positively and unconditionally, and i know i'm only sharing a piece of my mind through it, it's not much, it's not important to the scheme of the universe, it's personal and sometimes a call to someone else (when a question is asked, either way), it doesn't require any forced participation and answers, it must give the choice to each one to connect or not without any dramatic manipulations.
I still can read poetry and fantasize about what i perceive of the mind of the author, that's still fine and stimulating, but i refuse to feel manipulated from afar, or from another time period (try to manipulate me in a moment of closeness instead), life must be lived right here right now, where you are and choose to be, and in there you can use words to connect with your present and fullfill your life as you want.
Isn't it maturity?! (youth will call it boredom, please go back to masturbation kid!)
mardi 15 juillet 2014
dimanche 13 juillet 2014
The Art of idleness (Considerations on the origins of unhappiness and conflicts)
"Human beings are only good when they are happy, when they reach the inner harmony, therefore, when they love.
Thus, the misfortune that striked the world, the distress i felt was coming from an inability to love truly."
"Everything that we are unable to accept, to love, to savor with gratitude becomes poison.
On the contrary, everything that we learn to cherish, everything that instills energy represents a life source and a treasure."
Hermann HESSE (rough translation)
Thus, the misfortune that striked the world, the distress i felt was coming from an inability to love truly."
"Everything that we are unable to accept, to love, to savor with gratitude becomes poison.
On the contrary, everything that we learn to cherish, everything that instills energy represents a life source and a treasure."
Hermann HESSE (rough translation)
dimanche 6 juillet 2014
Sorry if i'm morbid tonight
Yesterday during my walk,
not too far from my appartment, on a side road,
i saw a dead kitten,
probably ran over by a car,
i stopped for a moment,
no one was around, it was quite late in the evening,
he was all black but the tips of his paws,
white,
like he was wearing socks.
His eyes were shut tight,
like when someone is pulling out some physical effort,
and his face was frozen on a demonic grin,
a trickle of blood was seeping out of his mouth,
i could see his tainted fangs.
I had some thoughts there,
"Poor guy, he surely didn't deserve this, probably less than any human"
"Would have i been more affected if it was a human lying there?...
probably not.",
right there i understood why people find comfort in an animal, and love him so much
(i'm used to distance myself about that),
no animal deserves to die,
and definitely less than any human,
animals obey the laws of nature,
they never do wrongs,
they never do useless, insensitive acts.
For a second i imagined i should take him by the fur of his back
and put him on a ground area,
in the dirt and grass,
or under a tree,
so that nature can absorb him,
and his decaying body helps other creatures and plants,
but i didn't do it,
(weak),
for fear of bacteria,
and perhaps that someone sees me holding this dead body
and freaks out.
I still have his picture in my mind,
well sorry if you think i'm morbid tonight,
that's a story from my days.
not too far from my appartment, on a side road,
i saw a dead kitten,
probably ran over by a car,
i stopped for a moment,
no one was around, it was quite late in the evening,
he was all black but the tips of his paws,
white,
like he was wearing socks.
His eyes were shut tight,
like when someone is pulling out some physical effort,
and his face was frozen on a demonic grin,
a trickle of blood was seeping out of his mouth,
i could see his tainted fangs.
I had some thoughts there,
"Poor guy, he surely didn't deserve this, probably less than any human"
"Would have i been more affected if it was a human lying there?...
probably not.",
right there i understood why people find comfort in an animal, and love him so much
(i'm used to distance myself about that),
no animal deserves to die,
and definitely less than any human,
animals obey the laws of nature,
they never do wrongs,
they never do useless, insensitive acts.
For a second i imagined i should take him by the fur of his back
and put him on a ground area,
in the dirt and grass,
or under a tree,
so that nature can absorb him,
and his decaying body helps other creatures and plants,
but i didn't do it,
(weak),
for fear of bacteria,
and perhaps that someone sees me holding this dead body
and freaks out.
I still have his picture in my mind,
well sorry if you think i'm morbid tonight,
that's a story from my days.
dimanche 29 juin 2014
Fireworks musing
Do you think fireworks are pretty? Overwhelming colors and twinkling in the night sky cadenced by a long series of deafening explosions? Why would that be alluring and stupefying?! Are we attracted by lights like bugs? are we thrilled over displays of immoderate grandeur?!
I've got nothing against fireworks, even as i recognize it's all going to smoke and dust, and it must be rather costly; some men put effort into mastering a precise ability about fireworks, i give credit to the will and motivation people can put into learning and doing something right.
But why in our actual days feeling that we can only be impressed and entertained by tremendous and over the top events, to brag about how humongous it was to our many acquaintances and few friends, why, why, why can't we be happy and feel empowerment by humbly exploring how that planet is made in its natural form, walking into woods, swimming in rivers, or simply stopping and deeply sense and feel the greatness of what is already, all around us.
(I think those kind of ponderings that i have all the time and that i sometimes spoke aloud to the people around me earned me the label of being a chronic annoying Killjoy, always over thinking and trying to roll over and look under the heaviest rocks, most people find their pleasure and fun in forgetting and absence of reasoning.
Definitely - Not - My - Case! Sorry.)
(This post goes with the post below : learn to experience simple things with the love in you and you won't need fireworks to be entertained and feel fullfilled.)
I've got nothing against fireworks, even as i recognize it's all going to smoke and dust, and it must be rather costly; some men put effort into mastering a precise ability about fireworks, i give credit to the will and motivation people can put into learning and doing something right.
But why in our actual days feeling that we can only be impressed and entertained by tremendous and over the top events, to brag about how humongous it was to our many acquaintances and few friends, why, why, why can't we be happy and feel empowerment by humbly exploring how that planet is made in its natural form, walking into woods, swimming in rivers, or simply stopping and deeply sense and feel the greatness of what is already, all around us.
(I think those kind of ponderings that i have all the time and that i sometimes spoke aloud to the people around me earned me the label of being a chronic annoying Killjoy, always over thinking and trying to roll over and look under the heaviest rocks, most people find their pleasure and fun in forgetting and absence of reasoning.
Definitely - Not - My - Case! Sorry.)
(This post goes with the post below : learn to experience simple things with the love in you and you won't need fireworks to be entertained and feel fullfilled.)
lundi 23 juin 2014
Why not a square apple?!
I'm thinking that to the core the ways the brain learns are few and that we find it frequently amongst humans all around the globe (some of those ways maybe does what we call "geniuses", and maybe the brain of an individual already has several ways to form and to record informations), probably what differentiate us the most, what makes us intellectually unique is the puzzle of informations that we all accumulate during our life, depending on our lifespan, and more or less large according to each one's curiosity, this pile of information is different in every one of us and makes us truly unique; thanks to imagination and using the bricks of informations i have stored i can create something that will have a meaning for myself only, therefore something i will be the only one to know the code to decypher the exact significance; a piece of writing, a painting, a musical score, an utensil, a line on a paper, a sculpture, if i want i can compilate some of the informations in my brain (randomly, or as i want, with my own logic) to expose a unique creation on which others could only imagine an inaccurate interpretation trying de match what they see (hear or taste...) with the pieces of information they have already stored in their brains during their life experience, so they never reconstruct the truth of the main author of this creation, even by asking him questions, and even if the author himself answers precisely and sincerely to those questions, because even the simplest object is created again in someone's mind through one's experiences and will necesarily be different from another, if i ask to think about an apple everyone will picture one's unique and personal apple as function of one's mental circuit, the amount of informations stored, the preferences etc...
So the moral is : be tolerant, because you could never read the mind of another one, accept it, and live positively with it.
(Here are my thoughts, i'm trying to build an opinion on that matter so i expose my pondering that's all! It came first in french so i share the french text too.)
[Et pourquoi pas une pomme carrée
On peut penser que les façons differentes d'apprendre du cerveau sont peu nombreuses et on les retrouve toutes frequement parmis les humains tout autour du globe (certaines des ces façons font peut etre les genies, et peut etre le cerveau d'un seul individu possede deja plusieurs façon de se former et d'enregistrer les informations), probablement ce qui nous differencie vraiment, ce qui nous rend tous unique intellectuellement c'est le puzzle d'informations que nous amassons tous au cour de notre vie, dependant de notre durée de vie, et plus ou moins important suivant la curiosité de chacun, cet amas d'information est different en chacun de nous et nous rend veritablement unique, grace à l'imagination en utilisant les briques d'information que j'aurais stocké je peux créé quelque chose qui n'aura de sens que pour moi seul, donc quelque chose dont je serais le seul à posséder le code pour en déchiffrer l'exact signification, un bout de texte, un tableau, un ustensil, un trait sur un papier, si je veux je peux compiler certaines des informations de mon cerveau (aleatoirement, ou comme il me plait, avec ma propre logique) pour exposer une creation unique dont les autres ne pourront faire qu'une interpretation inexact en essayant de reassembler ce qu'ils voient (entendent ou goutent...) grace au propre pieces d'information qu'ils auront eux meme stocké dans leurs cerveaux durant leur experience de vie, ils ne recomposeront donc jamais la vérité de l'auteur principal de cette creation, même en lui posant des questions, et même si l'auteur repond precisement, car même l'objet le plus simple est recréé dans l'esprit de quelqu'un à travers ces experiences et sera donc forcement different d'un autre, si je demande de penser à une pomme chacun va imaginer une pomme qui lui sera unique en fonction des circuits de son mental, des informations amassées, des images vues, des preferences etc... ]
So the moral is : be tolerant, because you could never read the mind of another one, accept it, and live positively with it.
(Here are my thoughts, i'm trying to build an opinion on that matter so i expose my pondering that's all! It came first in french so i share the french text too.)
[Et pourquoi pas une pomme carrée
On peut penser que les façons differentes d'apprendre du cerveau sont peu nombreuses et on les retrouve toutes frequement parmis les humains tout autour du globe (certaines des ces façons font peut etre les genies, et peut etre le cerveau d'un seul individu possede deja plusieurs façon de se former et d'enregistrer les informations), probablement ce qui nous differencie vraiment, ce qui nous rend tous unique intellectuellement c'est le puzzle d'informations que nous amassons tous au cour de notre vie, dependant de notre durée de vie, et plus ou moins important suivant la curiosité de chacun, cet amas d'information est different en chacun de nous et nous rend veritablement unique, grace à l'imagination en utilisant les briques d'information que j'aurais stocké je peux créé quelque chose qui n'aura de sens que pour moi seul, donc quelque chose dont je serais le seul à posséder le code pour en déchiffrer l'exact signification, un bout de texte, un tableau, un ustensil, un trait sur un papier, si je veux je peux compiler certaines des informations de mon cerveau (aleatoirement, ou comme il me plait, avec ma propre logique) pour exposer une creation unique dont les autres ne pourront faire qu'une interpretation inexact en essayant de reassembler ce qu'ils voient (entendent ou goutent...) grace au propre pieces d'information qu'ils auront eux meme stocké dans leurs cerveaux durant leur experience de vie, ils ne recomposeront donc jamais la vérité de l'auteur principal de cette creation, même en lui posant des questions, et même si l'auteur repond precisement, car même l'objet le plus simple est recréé dans l'esprit de quelqu'un à travers ces experiences et sera donc forcement different d'un autre, si je demande de penser à une pomme chacun va imaginer une pomme qui lui sera unique en fonction des circuits de son mental, des informations amassées, des images vues, des preferences etc... ]
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