#transcedentalism

[kropotkindersurprise]

A funny clip about how the White liberal radical individualist transcedentalist groups of the 60s in the USA tried to come together with the radical Socialist Black liberation groups to solve racism together, and the spectacular failure of that attempt.

From the 2002 BBC documentary series The Century of the Self, by Adam Curtis, about how Freud's theories of psychoanalysis were used to shape modern capitalist society.

[witnesstruesorcery]

[pteridophytafloris]

Black House project

[thelittlebitsofhappiness]

[...] And we were souls, not humans for we were us, but only with the dreams and hopes in us. We were moonlight and waves and sand of stars and sweet morning dew and all the gold that breaths and laughs. We were everything, in a glimpse of divinity frailer than us, and we were nothing. It was all happy then ...

- I have dreams of unbecoming

[mbuckleydesign]

[cine-studies]

☁️// 05.01.17 // ☁️

Working on notes for my 19th Century American Lit exam. These are some of my notes on Whitman and Transcendentalism.

Also featuring motivational post-it with Hamilton lyrics, because it’s getting me through the exam period.

These study diaries have zero consistency in formatting or how often I post them. So yeah. Hope you are ok with that.

[lost-pet-city]

The transcendentalists,,,, are my people.

[boxjellyfish87]

Gnosis Thought is deeper than all speech, Feeling deeper than all thought: Souls to souls can never teach What unto themselves was taught. We are spirits clad in veils;        Man by man was never seen; All our deep communing fails To remove the shadowy screen. Heart to heart was never known; Mind with mind did never meet;       We are columns left alone Of a temple once complete. Like the stars that gem the sky, Far apart though seeming near, In our light we scattered lie;        All is thus but starlight here. What is social company But a babbling summer stream? What our wise philosophy But the glancing of a dream?        Only when the Sun of Love Melts the scattered stars of thought, Only when we live above What the dim-eyed world hath taught, Only when our souls are fed        By the Fount which gave them birth, And by inspiration led Which they never drew from earth, We, like parted drops of rain, Swelling till they meet and run,        Shall be all absorbed again, Melting, flowing into one.

Christopher Pearse Cranch (1813–1892)