Saturday, August 14, 2010

On Democracy and Inequality...

"We cannot call our country a democracy when 1 percent of the population controls nearly half, and the top 20 percent controls 91 percent, of the wealth and the access to power that wealth produces."

-Paul Kivel, Social Service or Social Change?

but if reality is an illusion...

...then how should we live?

time has no beginning or end - whether a circle, or a point, or some other crazy ideas physicists have -

humankind proves it by repeating history again and again:

...society, growth, sex love and pleasure, exploitation growth and pleasure, power and poverty, revolution, war devastation and destruction, revolution, reform, society, growth, sex love and pleasure...

destruction is here, more devastation is on its way, and our revolution is coming.

it might not end up quite like this video, but the (r)evolution is indeed on its way... i know you feel it...

there is no reality

this is an illusion...

Monday, August 9, 2010

Through a Closed Mouth the Flies Enter
by Pablo Neruda

Why with those red flames
are rubies ready to burn?

Why does the heart of the topaz
have yellow honeycombs?

Why does the rose amuse itself
by changing the color of its dreams?

Why does the emerald grow cold
like a drowned submarine?

And why does the sky turn pale
over the June stars?

Where does the lizard's tail
buy its fresh paint?

Where is the underground fire
that resurrects the carnations?

Where does the salt get
that transparent gaze?

Where did the coals sleep
that they got up so dark?

And where, where does the tiger buy
stripes of mourning, stripes of gold?

When did the honeysuckle begin
to know its perfume?

When did the pine tree realize
its fragrant effect?

When did the lemons learn
the same catechism as the sun?

When did smoke learn to fly?

When do the roots converse?

What is water like in the stars?
Why is the scorpion poisonous,
why is the elephant benign?

What does the tortoise meditate on?
Where does the shade withdraw?
What song does the rain repeat?
Where do the birds go to die?
And why are the leaves green?

What we know is so little
and what we presume is so much
and we learn so slowly
that we ask and then we die.
Better to keep our pride
for the city of the dead
on the day of the departed
and there when the wind goes through
the hollows of your skull
it will decipher those enigmas for you,
whispering the truth in the space
where your ears used to be.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

On Science (and other matters of life)...

"Science is a tribute to what we can know although we are fallible."

"We have to cure ourselves of the itch for absolute knowledge and power."

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Kerouac On Being...

On Summer...

(of course, the obvious question is why am I posting all of this?)

-May 29-

A sign in Harvard Yard reads: Every life is big to the person who is living it.


I move through this world
A headclouded wandering.
Experiencing mostly in this mindworld:
I am a dust-covered being.

-June 11-

there is a coming together.
it is slow.

-June 17-

how am i to you
just another walking down the street?
can you look me in the eyes
and not see?
do you not feel these rays of light
exploding from my being?

-June 20-

there were God-clouds today
charging forth from behind
these red brick buildings,

massive and
elegant and

rosy- and halo-trimmed

so profound that they make you
stop and stare,
catch your breath and say,


-June 26-

we are all walking bodies of knowledge and experience.

-June 28-

How is it going,

-July 3-

"A homesickness which home cannot cure." - John Burroughs

-July 4-

My being
is half-woman,

I now find myself
stretching up, and
opening out, and
letting go, and
coming alive.

Align my hips and shoulders,
pull this thread from the crown of my head,
breathe deep and wide
and open your eyes

wake up!
wake up!
be here!
wake up!


I had dinner
with a man,

He is beautiful.

Deep eyes,
far back,
piercing blue,


Adams Apple, guzzle,
grey short stubble
sprinkled on your


smooth - kindness
divine glacier,
I want to touch


the fingerpadtip
of my ring finger
has been buzzing
all day.

and today
during yoga
something opened in my chest
and I felt my heart.

-July 7-

Brands and logos are so strange! If someone is wearing a shirt with only a Nike symbol swoosh on it, they are moving through the world literally branded. They are doing nothing but being an advertisement for them, for that company. Their self/identity/beinghood becomes owned by that company! How bizarre!

So what does that mean about our interactions with others? How are we not judging them based on their costumes, their habits, their thoughts? "Oh, you are this type of person. You are this." But that is false, that is fake. That is part of essentializing others.

In fact, is our perception of all matter and being not simply as symbols? All action and interaction is symbolic action and interaction. We attribute a certain meaning to it all, we have an understanding of it as something. But it is never the thing in itself, and it is never being perceived outside of our own minds.

-July 9-

I realized that my knees are joints.
Now when I bike
I try to draw strength
from the core my being.

What is at the core?


Upon accepting
the illusion of reality -
crazy all amess
where going
nowhere I don't know
here they are
and I cried
still self-conscious of the fact that I
was crying
--why am I twisting my face so?
--why do I believe in this pain?


Everything we do is symbolic - we are always acting, performing, playing, making meaning out of our actions.


I recognize, I realize, that this existential stagnancy is stupefying, deadening, stopping or maybe just slowing, it is just slowing down, because I know! I already know! My sick soul is self-induced, vanity. It is true that it is all false, but as much as Itry to think my way into the falseness, I remain in this reality.

-July 11-

Summer is passing:
Opressive heat bursts -
sweatsticky bodies are cleansed.


Here we are in this crisp
world that resounds with dripdrippings
and the hollow swooosh of tires
splashing through puddles
and we are shuffling side-to-side,
wasting time, nervous, waiting awkward...

In this after-dinner dimness-lit-by-streetlamps
world of wet and
slick dark ground and
big, cool sky
we are kicking quietly at the ground and
looking into each others' eyes and
waiting to kiss.

-July 12-

Screen door swings open:

Candles, wine, fruit flies, and
Two twenty-one-year-old Woman-kids
--out on the back porch
--sitting on the wooden steps
--legs crossed, sandal-tanned bare feet,
--flowy skirts and tank tops;
farmer's market dinner
late-time on a summer night.

Talk of the world -
all of the sad things,
what needs to change-
only ever ends
Heavy, Huge
of impossible, of smallness,
of a deep despair
that plunges arm, twisting, down, into mouth, pink throat tubes clenched between flingerslits and fist, you are - hands to neck - choking. why can't you disappear from the world?

But talk is talk.



You know those dreams
that you have right before bed
about everything you're gonna do tomorrow,
and also about how you're gonna change the world?

Well, where have they gone when you wake up the next morning?

-July 25-

"I was no longer myself, or to be more accurate, no longer as I knew myself to be, a small point of awarenes confined in a body, but instead was a vast circle of consciousness in which the body was but a point, bathed in light and in a state of exaltation and happiness impossible to describe." - Gopi Krishna, Kundalini: The Evolutionary Energy in Man

-August 1-

It's that lavender and rose petals point in life,
or the sweet smell of supple peaches stage

jeweltones against ripe honey-colored limbs,

movement like a soft evening rain -
delicate, dangling, firm.


Life's pupil
Shedding self.


Releasing my story has become my story.
Indeed, my path to not-self is one of great self-absorption.

DuBois on Double Consciousness

"It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his twoness, - an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn assunder." - From The Souls of Black Folk

Ali Farka Touré