Every art is perfection, given the right perspective and distance.
Our mind is boundless in it’s imagination. Boundless ergo infinite in it’s ability to imagine. Infinity is beautiful. In mathematics and in philosophy. When we measure with it, nothing is too small nor is it too big, nor can the smallest fraction ever be realised. It is to say, 1% of infinity is infinity and therefore no idea can ever be too small.
Realise your ideas, the possibilities are boundless.
I’m a world away but when I woke up this morning, the news of yet another senseless act of terrorism. This time, it’s in Boston. I’ve never been to Boston but I know of her name – furthermore, the Boston Marathon’s name. Shit happened. Fucking silly senseless act of terrorism.
I suddenly feel even more silly. Why do I have a more emotional response to a bombing in Boston compared to the almost daily events in the Middle East? Why is there a current global exchange rate for life? Just like currency rates, why are certain deaths or sufferings not as valued as others? Where is our sympathetic limit? How is the fabric of empathy woven?
I believe culture and media shape our mind – and in turn builds our biases. We value those we understand through shared language and culture. Our perception of “What we know is good, what we do not, is evil”. That’s how others will see us too.
We see the world as a collection of bubbles, not quite divided by geographic borders but the reflection of our different layers of familiarity. For this, I feel sorry for ourselves. We have never left our savannah tribal villages. We still look at the world as one built up of “us and them”. Because of this, the world will never be short of terrorists.
It’s a bit of a dark day for me. Boston is a little closer to me and the rest of the world, a little further. Let’s not compare other people with us but take time to understand and learn their uniqueness.
A poet’s work should not be limited by rhyme, it cannot be shackled by language, it cannot be truly painted with colours, when expressed, only the surface can be observed but not it’s depth, it can be as deep as thought, the deepest chasm of the mind. Lost to the world but perfectly lucid in it’s place. On board a vessel of consciousness flowing on a river of subconsciousness. Quiet contemplation brewing, emotions churning, the drums of reasons beating, familiar voices stirring, like a crowded room, each with a direction of it’s own, trying to find a melody, trying to find truth, expressed in art, so we all wait for the quiet poet to exhale.
The quiet discussions and sometimes disagreement,
They start out in the quiet corner of contemplation,
They rationalise, they theorise, and sometimes, they surprise.
These voices are but our conscious mind,
Going through our thoughts every time,
People give them names, devil and the angel,
It’s just the conscience that make us mentally able.
Cogito ergo sum, we think therefore we exist,
No need to be afraid and fall to your knees.
These voices are not strangers, it is your own.
Your singularity and your cognitive tone.
It’s the voices of reason, making you who your are.
These noisy friends make your head like a Friday night bar.
There be mischievous whispers
and good for nothing calls
where it overwhelms ones safety
and makes the person fall.
For those with strange friends in the head,
Please take your medication before bed.
e = 1/K
where e = Ego. K = Knowledge.
“The more the knowledge, lesser the ego
The lesser the knowledge, more the ego”
– Albert Einstein.
We add new pages every moment. New experiences, emotions, insights. The only parts written in pencil are regrets.
I for one, hope that my book will be a long and interesting one before the final chapter is added. The final chapter would be written by someone else and titled: Obituary.
Our assumptions, modeled and then proven become science. We can sit around and listen to stories but the truth is so remarkable. Scientific truth.
There is no point fearing things we do not know when we find comfort in lies.
Life is but a fleeting moment of consciousness.
It should be lived to spread happiness.
Building memories for those around us,
Spreading smiles and an occasional blush,
Have you made another person smile today?
Or at least make their tears go away?
Have you managed to share a giggle,
Who deserves your touch, just a little,
Once you have made the difference,
You can sleep with a satisfied conscience 🙂
As an atheist, I don’t think there is a need to fear death. The correct emotion to cast at the state is probably anger or hate.
I hate death because it robs us of consciousness. It robs us of experience. It robs us of our dreams. It snatches away our purpose.
Because I hate death, I live. I want to push boundaries of my experience and enjoy what my senses can absorb while I’m lucid.
There is a funny spin to life. If there is no death, life cannot be sustained (besides the overpopulation issue). There is no purpose or drive to live. There is no point to fall in love, procreate and have an improved version of yourself. Why do we die? So we can live forever.
Sumo Articulations 