#wandering thought

[trailofleaves]

Wandering Thought # 401

The light of the stars takes years and eons to reach us; when that light finally arrives, we see the stars as they were in the past. That same law applies to our understanding of ourselves and to the events of our life as well. We do not see the events that happen to us in their true light except years later after the dust has settled. The river of time flows, and what happened years ago finally catches on to us and we understand the event in its true significance. We understand in retrospect. Who we take ourselves to be at the current moment is in fact the person we were in a certain past. Who we are currently, is always draped in a certain mystery to us. Who we are will forever elude us, and this is on of the joys of being a human.

[thesocklesswonder]

Wandering thought: If Deity made people in its image and people are animals, then Deity must be some kind of shapechanger. I mean, it likely wouldn't pick only one animal to look like it and then make the rest of the animals up. That's a lot of R&D, man

[trailofleaves]

Wandering Thought # 400

Painting, with the painter as the medium, is a reflection of the essence, or the immanent spirit of the object painted — there is a soul shining through the creation, which is the painting, a soul that speaks directly to our soul, captivating us in ways the rational mind cannot comprehend. The same can be said of poetry, or art as a medium in general. Art as a portal, an act of revelation, opening us into the mystic world in which we are already all immersed, from within and from without.

[trailofleaves]

Wandering Thought # 395

A truth that fits all ages — most people never question the basic nature of reality as provided by their society. They take it for absolute and self-evident, and live their lives accordingly.

Our empathy depends on our ideological beliefs, therefore it is highly selective. One person may rejoice in another's suffering, another offering sympathy, while yet another feeling absolute apathy. Our empathy is incumbent on our worldview and our place in the world.

[trailofleaves]

Wandering Thought # 371

We suffer from living too fast. Our thoughts and emotions fidget, arrive and go quickly, fraught with anxiety; nothing in us abides. We cannot change our patterns of behavior and thought because all we seek are quick fixes. We do not know the meaning of stillness and calm. As soon as a quiet moment arrives, an interior shiver drives us to drown it in something trivial. We are the ones eternally escaping from ourselves. We follow the illusion of happiness in the form of consumption — whether relationships, foods, products, sexual stimuli. Everything is present to turn us away from ourselves. Our life has become an ever open mouth, gorging as much as it can, yet emptier and emptier the more and more it fills. We are the eternally disappointed ones, for nothing can any longer touch our hearts. Our lives hold no meaning because we no longer truly give ourselves to anything or anyone. Our faces we have not seen since childhood. And instead of truth we crowned pleasure as the one true source of life. Our worship of individualism has ultimately destroyed our relationship to the world, nature, our families, friends, and ourselves. We are isolated, completely and deeply sealed off. We go on living without really being alive; nothing touching us; nothing holding any value.

The owl of Minerva still has not flown. The dusk has not yet come and with it, the time of truth. Our alienation will deepen still in the decades to come.

[trailofleaves]

Wandering Thought# 364 (On Poetry)

Poetry was my rebellion against a meaningless world drowning in consumption and triviality. Poetry was my clarity, my strength of spirit, my ray of sunlight, my communion with my body, my attentiveness to nature and awareness of it. Poetry was the love, the fire in my veins, my intuition of the unseen ever bursting from the hidden source. Poetry was my rootedness in the sacred and its mystic currents. Poetry was my long, endless journey towards a home always around the corner, always in the next field, but never to be found. Poetry was in my heart, filling it at each moment with the exuberance of being alive. Poetry was the greater-than-life force that I was blessed to carry, that I was blessed that it touched my heart.

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[trailofleaves]

Wandering Thought# 353

The beauty that shocks does not last. Beauty ought to be patient, soft and penetrating, like the light of a burning candle, shrouded in mystery, leading one on, always with a foretaste of a greater mystery. Beauty is a spell filled with a promise, always a promise greater than it delivers, so that one keeps hoping, burning with a longing for more. Beauty transforms the beholder by touching his soul, impregnating him with taste, courage, discipline, uplifting him above the state of the world. Beauty is a seed of light that always gives more than it takes, and its true inheritance is what lives on in the heart and imagination, becoming a part of whatever its beholder touches, sees or lives through. Beauty is light and we are its vessels; beauty is prayer and we are the silence of the vigil forever waiting at the doorsteps of its whisper. Beauty is what lives on from us once we’re gone.

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[trailofleaves]

Wandering Thought # 403

The truly revolutionary of our time is the one capable of imagining a world not bound by capital, production, profit, return on investment. A world where the human being and existence are not distilled into productivity in favor of money, a graph on a computer screen. The revolution is recognizing the unbound richness of the human, music, religion, philosophy, the sacred as the foundation of the profane. The revolution is seeing the current man as dwarfed, belittled, turned into a consumer and a producer, when, in fact, the breath of God dwells in him and animates him. The truly revolutionary is the one who reminds man of what he is.