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The Golden Key- |
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One
of my favorite stories as a child was "The Golden Key",
by George MacDonald. I've decided to put it up here to share
with everyone. Enjoy!
The Golden Key
By George MacDonald
There was a boy who used to sit in the twilight and listen
to his great-aunt’s stories. She told him that if he could
reach the place where the end of the rainbow stands he would
find there a golden key.
“And what is the key for?” the boy would ask. “What is it
the key of? What will it open?”
“That nobody knows,” his aunt would reply. “He has to find
that out.”
“I suppose, being gold,” the boy once said, thoughtfully,
“that I could get a good deal of money for it if I sold it.”
“Better never find it than sell it,” returned his aunt.
And the boy went to bed and dreamed about the golden key.
continue
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categories:
writing |
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Poetry? - |
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Diamond
Mind:
It is the mind that is clear, transparent.
Imagine a diamond in a stream of water. You could not see the
diamond at all.
Like the diamond in the stream, you should be just as clear
in the stream of life.
Or instead, imagine a shaft of light.
If there is nothing in it, the light is invisible.
You can only see the light when there is something there to
reflect it.
Now into this shaft of light, place a diamond.
The diamond gives brilliance to the light, making it bright,
colorful, shining.
Such must your mind be within the beam of life that is the now.
Untitled 1:
There are charcoal briquettes in my grill.
By the time the food for the party is prepared,
they will have become diamonds.
Untitled 2:
That which is within you and moves you,
loves
that which is around you.
Bliss.
Rocks
Searching for enlightenment is like being a man holding onto
rocks on the sea floor.
Each rock he comes to, he lifts.
Some rocks contain bubbles beneath them.
Yet no rock, no matter how big the bubbles underneath, is going
to allow him to breathe freely.
Let go of the rocks, learn to swim.
The air that is within you will lead you to the surface.
One day, your head will break the waves and you will breathe.
Yggsdrasil:
I am the Tree.
My sap begins in my roots, below the ground.
It slithers up my legs and rests in my stomach, or twines further
up amongst my branches.
My thoughts are as leaves, spread out to catch the light from
above, singing songs of joy.
If I am lucky, these thoughts will bear fruit,
fruit that is sweetened by my sap and the soft summer sun…
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writing |
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Hello - |
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My
apologies for the lack of new posts.
I
am working on a new story, as it's been too long since I've
put up some writing here. I've also got a few new art pieces
to post and hopefully a good group of pictures from a day spent
wandering around southern Manhattan. These would all be up now,
if it wasn't for that pesky "real life" and that "job"
that keep getting in the way...
Anyway,
to breathe a little life back into this space, I am posting
some scribblings from my notebook. For the sake of using a recognizable
label for the googlebots, I will call them poetry. If you don't
like that, well, I'm sorry (for you). More will be coming soon,
and you can always check my
research log, which I update more regularly but less specifically.
There's
actually a lot of Kafka up there now, which is strange as I
am not a big fan of his novels. But that would explain my recent
dream of being caught in the courts system for doing something
that I hadn't known was a crime. I was given a summons which
I couldn't understand, and was later told by someone who was
either Aleister Crowley dressed as a bureaucrat, or my 8th grade
history teach (a nice guy who bears no resemblance to Crowley)
that "they" were going to be making an example of
me. However, my feelings about being "made an example"
were more towards boredom than fear, so I'm not too
worried about it...
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Tychs: 1- |
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Everyone
likes a good panorama. So do I, except that I call them tychs
As in "dyp-" or "trip-".
Yeah,
I know that's technically not correct, but fuck it. I like the
word.
Here's
a few I've put together over the years, from HK,
the Chelsea Art District, Roosevelt Island, and my bedroom window.
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categories:
photography |
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Sakura Festival '08 - |
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As
promised long ago after that vote I held, here is the second
requested group of older images.
These are all from the Sakura Festival at the Brooklyn Botanic
Gardens.
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categories:
photography |
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Late June - |
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More
recent random photos, from a walk around the Chelsea Art Galleries,
and a walk along the Brooklyn Promanade on a different day.
Wish
I had written down the names of the artists and the galleries
I took these at...
I think that cat image is by ElboeToe, and the first one might
be a Swoon piece.
Funny, it's the street art that I remember, more than the gallery
pieces.
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categories:
photography |
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Links? - |
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So
apparently there is a different between ".jpg" and
".JPG". A link with one will not open a file with
the other...
Well,
that's all fixed now. All the recent photography is now actually
viewable.
My
apologies for the lack of professionalism...
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The Roof is on Fire - |
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Some
photos from my rooftop. The sun and the clouds in New York lately
have been amazing.
Plus, I am apparently under a major flight-path for La Guardia
airport...
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categories:
photography |
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Untitled 5 - |
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Here
is some new artwork. I did all five one after another, and I
like the way they play off each other.
All
are :
8" x 8" @ 400dpi
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categories:
art |
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Essay 1: Icebergs - |
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I heard the relationship between the conscious mind and the
unconscious mind described as an iceberg:
The
part above the water is the conscious mind, the part below
(which we cannot see) is the unconscious, and the iceberg
as a whole functions as the total self. This metaphor is usually
used to show that there is much more to our “self” than what
is contained within our conscious awareness.
What I want to do is examine this iceberg-as-self metaphor
and see how much farther I can go with it. To take the first
step, I would like to point out that the iceberg is floating
in water, and that the iceberg is also made up of water.
So, to expand the metaphor, what is it that the self floats
in? I would say it floats in the world, in reality, this present
point in the space-time continuum. Reality washes around us
just as the water washes around that iceberg. And just as
the iceberg is made up of frozen water, so too can the self
be seen as made up of frozen moments of reality, in the form
our memories.
Once we have captured them, these frozen moments no longer
come and go, no longer coalesce around us and fade away. We
chose to retain these memories as parts of our self, for whatever
reason, and we cannot, or will not, let them go. And so, just
as frozen water makes up an iceberg, these frozen waves of
reality make up what we think of as our “self“.
Contained in our conscious mind are the memories of which
we are aware, and like the top of the iceberg, they float
above the watery reality that washes around us, because reality
can only touch our conscious mind at the waterline of the
5 senses.
Below the conscious mind is the unconscious mind, supporting
our consciousness within the wash of reality. The unconscious
mind is larger then the conscious mind, in order to act as
a counter-weight to keep the conscious mind afloat amidst
the moving waves. Since it is in such intimate contact with
these waves, the unconscious mind is much more aware of their
movements than our conscious mind ever is, and it reacts to
them more strongly, to counteract the pressures they exert
upon the self.
Yet in the end, the conscious and the unconscious are both
parts of the whole self, separate and distinct from reality,
and both are moved back and forth upon its waves.
I can hear a complaint: “But my conscious mind also includes
the things around me. I look up and I am conscious of that
tree standing outside my window.” But really, although you
see this ‘tree‘, the only reason you recognize it as a ‘tree’
is because of the frozen moment of time when you, as a child,
asked “what is that?” and someone replied “it is a tree”.
So the iceberg metaphor has been extended to suggest a self
made up of frozen moments of reality, floating on (and within)
an ever changing sea of reality. We pick up impressions and
memories as we go along, and that‘s pretty much all there
is to it.
But really, do we only consist of frozen memories carried
through time? Are we mere gatherers of information, recorders
and aggregates of what we have seen and experienced?
Continue
reading...
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categories:
writing |
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earlier
posts ----> |
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