Mars
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Four Cardinals of the Heart (2nd is the link above):
With the last, you hear what Odysseus longed for. To me, these four represents the four seasons: winter, spring, summer, autumn. Like our lives: darkness, living, blessing, burning. And these were the names of that lovely young lady.
The revelation was in the summer of 1988, as a young man of 25 curious how the original would sound compared with the synthersized reproduction on the radio. Daphnis at Chloé, by Maurice Ravel, just after the Nocturne (, Interlude) and Danse Guerrière: Lever du Jour. Not only the opening of the day, the resurrection of life out sleep and slumber, but rebirth of the conciousness. A few weeks later, with this music in my head replaying over and over, I invited a lovely young lady to witness sundawn on the edge of the world. She asked me to conquer the world with her, but the echos of this grieving memory are like the thunder from ocean clouds afar, stirring the fallen leaves wherever I walk. Yet, when replaying, I wander through time, invisible dancing.
Edit: the very spot is some 50 meters behind my avatar.
Odd to read my critisism of current affairs, politics and social desintegration (avoiding to colour it collapse) is likened as a certain, positive mood. Being from a somewhat political family and education myself (my fathers course and save my own electronic education), gettings these common things in a less fragmented fashion, to ‘solve the puzzle’, is what I consider as my left hand duty to lift it with my right hand. Destruction in ones own interest is the predators habit to rule the increasing emptying land, the barren desert, the wasted land. Creation however, even if initiated by those who prefer to have it as ‘the great miracle’, is of another league. How much effort (&) for what reason, cause or salvation are laborious stones erected, rude or polished, to co-ordinate the actual society to raise from the mud of savage to abundance of aware (sans conjugations)? But this awareness has its price: we are not able yet to raise from the mud enough to be responsible, the now most succesfull species conquering the earth to possess it, to mark us in the landscape, mutulating ourselves in bloody wars, and act and live as sincere concious beings, gazing at the stars we’re made off. The tidal waves of human kind are verocious nibblings and of short swell. Fall is coincidence of fruit and decay – my most favourite season by so bittersweet memories. But due south blossom awakes.
Let us keep on track with our guiding helmsman JC. What’s in an abbreviation!
Odd to read my critisism of current affairs, politics and social desintegration (avoiding to colour it collapse) is likened as a certain, positive mood. Being from a somewhat political family and education myself (my fathers course and save my own electronic education), gettings these common things in a less fragmented fashion, to ‘solve the puzzle’, is what I consider as my left hand duty to lift it with my right hand. Destruction in ones own interest is the predators habit to rule the increasing emptying land, the barren desert, the wasted land. Creation however, even if initiated by those who prefer to have it as ‘the great miracle’, is of another league. How much effort (&) for what reason, cause or salvation are laborious stones erected, rude or polished, to co-ordinate the actual society to raise from the mud of savage to abundance of aware (sans conjugations)? But this awareness has its price: we are not able yet to raise from the mud enough to be responsible, the now most succesfull species conquering the earth to possess it, to mark us in the landscape, mutulating ourselves in bloody wars, and act and live as sincere concious beings, gazing at the stars we’re made off. The tidal waves of human kind are verocious nibblings and of short swell. Fall is coincidence of fruit and decay – my most favourite season by so bittersweet memories. But due south blossom awakes.
Let us keep on track with our guiding helmsman JC. What’s in an abbreviation!
If we perceive any input to our senses as a metaphor in a distinctive, tuned language, then dreams are truely in focus of this other sense which seems to switch off at daylight. One can say that dreams are another perception of the fragmented reality, where the awake mind has it own (corresponding) part. Most people will be satisfied by such an idea, but it can or will be very frightening if our dreams come to life before our very eyes. Then you close your eyes, shake your head as if to cleanse the mind, and when you have a closer look at it again, it is gone. That’s why I consider time as reciprocal.
‘The menu is not the meal’ is a phrase of an inspiring fellow, to which this website is devoted.
In the old Sumer, the moon is a man: Nanna. His daughter the most praised goddess Innanna, Queen of Heaven and Earth.
Until she responds to the cries from (her own unknown) another self, meeting the goddess of the underworld Ereshkagil, being the mirrorring side of herself, who renders this magnificent goddess, stripped from her regalia, to a corpse, saved by unreal creations (invoked by the scraps under his fingernails of her grandfather Enki), sacrificing her most beloved spouse Demuzi to avoid the darkness forever, or better accept both sides of nature, darkness and light into the reality, to ultimately become a true devine being, as guiding star, eight-rays radiating power lifting her worshippers to these immortal and fertile mud planes.
Polarities proove very relative.
jamesn, not spect on this topic…
“…to bring your own personal program into this relationship…” is our personal (heroes) journey indeed. So much we’re priveledged to be aware of this, were the vast majority of mankind endure utter dispair. What bitter fruit hangs from the manmade poplar tree, unsurpassed failure by irrational beasts calling themselves demigods.
On the same plane, being able to understand the ultimate coincidences happened in ones life and releasing the gains of life and acceptance of the inevitable oblivion, is in direct contrast to and inconceivable for the many of man/womankind. Stuck to hope and old stories told, a promise of better, in subordination to their choosen deamons.
Every human equipped with two hands, sides, perspectives. Yet so few to grasp any fruit. If at all old enough to reach for this distant star. Autumn thoughts.
jamesn, not spect on this topic…
“…to bring your own personal program into this relationship…” is our personal (heroes) journey indeed. So much we’re priveledged to be aware of this, were the vast majority of mankind endure utter dispair. What bitter fruit hangs from the manmade poplar tree, unsurpassed failure by irrational beasts calling themselves demigods.
On the same plane, being able to understand the ultimate coincidences happened in ones life and releasing the gains of life and acceptance of the inevitable oblivion, is in direct contrast to and inconceivable for the many of man/womankind. Stuck to hope and old stories told, a promise of better, in subordination to their choosen deamons.
Every human equipped with two hands, sides, perspectives. Yet so few to grasp any fruit. If at all old enough to reach for this distant star. Autumn thoughts.
Oh Stephen, now you’re hitting bull’s eye!
Language… I’m blessed being dutch because we’re used to learn besides dutch also english, french and german. Three germanic and one romanic, members of the the same group yet very distinct (nomative vs verbative {is that the proper word?}). But in utter contrast: there are more languages in Papua-New Guinea then in the rest of the world, mainly by it’s extreme accidented landscape, shouldering english to mandarin to hopi to latin to hindi: the other is an alien, and taste good by the way.
How things and experiences are cast in words is nature, nurture, environment and interpretation (read: the the tale of the winner). Each speaker of a languge considers its own as the perfect representation of the right sounding words. Splash and gush suffice in english, but sounds as ‘spetter’ and ‘plons’ in dutch. My daughters first sounds sounds as pwa-pwa-pwa-pwa, which I take as curious variation (!).
Where does it come from? Apes evolving, mumbling, the males on hunt (MwuhMhuh!, meaning mammoth {english is strange: mother-moth?}), the woman more sedentary invent, unfold and refine speech, civilizing the game-loaden males on returning to their primitive settlement. The world is infinite, and hence the various languages.
Just into the reading of Sumerian history, an almost complete civilisation emerges from nowhere with a equal male-female balance (a requirement for a true and fruitfull culture) with an extreme steep developing language, wedges in clay is the technology only. A marvalous mythology, much copied, unsurpassed in it’s origins.
Ramblings are ok, and lots of references sweep through my memory and the pile of unread books grows out of my chimney (that’s certainly not english, but I’m sure you’ll understand), and I’ve not even mentioned Chomsky! (Now I did.)
On metaphors, the menu is not the meal: your perception of reality is not the reality, but only your perception of it, and hence it is not the reality. Ceci, c’est n’est pas une pipe. Your senses are impaired, your vocation crippled.
…correspondance… getting equal.
About the Pacific, tranquil it is and silent stones erect gazing to the distant ocean clouds. What stories from there? Throwing a chicken, a pig and a bunch of bananas into the canoe and they start rowing Rigel Kentauris as guide to the end of the world. The greatest seafarers of all history, unsurpassed by Vikings, Columbus-folk or oriental mariners alike. And guess what: they do have a legend of a deluge too!
The said department about those stories is one meager shelf only…
There is not only this remarkable (unknown to me so far) and enlighting oriental bridge: …The legend is that two lovers, Zhinü, a weaver girls, and Niulang, a cowherd fell in love… , but also between corresponding ancient tales alike in the occident, to name Daphnis and Chloë only. And frequently investigating the the mythology department in the local and abundant bookstore, none of these or those are available that easely alas. Any more references are welcome!
Yet this striking mirroring image where uni-formed man offer their supportive shoulders to the cooperative choosen promise building these temporarily featherlight bridge to reach for the untouchable heaven bringing it down to an earthly paradise… and all in heartly reds.
The second quote seems to link to The Hero’s Journey about the the life of JC as a teacher. A fast scan…
In THJ 1st ed 1990, page 102: “…You see a student wake up to a whole new life possibility. That’s a wonderful moment in teaching when that happens because…” Close, but a different quote.
No other hits alas. Maybe in a dialogue or interview.
Oh and I love Japanese myths.
