Hella Secluded

Ok. It is happening, self quarantine at home. Who would have thought?

– I had started to do a pre – assessment of what this week will look like so I decided to stay at home for this past week.

– It is going to be three more weeks. Who knows how my brain will evolve in this timeframe.

– From a logistical perspective, it is fine, I think, we should be able to go in walks with housemates and we also should be able to have enough food, as in, go to the grocery store and get more groceries. ( We are lucky)

– What is happening there is really interesting since it is the sort of phenomena that we can not see and therefore we have to be guided from an outside source. Get that, all you actions are dictated from afar. From very far far away. How interesting is that? How are we to trust institutions? Are we to assume that they act on our benefit?

– I was having conversations with a few friends and we are in direct accord that it is hard to know what to trust. We do not know what is considered a reliable source. We do know however, that we are to trust each other as much as possible. That is, in the interactions that we have and in the protocols that we decided to follow as a group. I love how we are self organizing our house.

– However, we still, there are some of us who are more reluctant than others when it comes to follow advise and stick to guidelines.

– The food does not worry, me, I actually have not much of a worry, since we have each other, and I know that if I can take care of myself, I can take of others.

– I feel secluded, we should all go on a hike. We are allowed to aren’t we?

– Gosh what is real? I love the recommendation that a friend of mine gave me. It is the book Recognitions, ahh, what a book! The characters suddenly realize that, it is not a matter of truth or lie, it is a matter of understanding what is real and what isn’t!

– This is not as easy as we all think it is. Being secluded, being so removed from our liberties. Not knowing though, it is tougher, not knowing that we may inflict pain in others is also, uncertain, uncertainty is torture.

– We keep ourselves secluded in hopes of not spreading more the virus. The virus, virus, virus. Why can’t we speak with the fire of the soul!

– The best people I know, are the ones who do not hold their experience, I want to be like them I want to be fierce and assertive with my words. Gosh! I need practice.

– For the moment, let’s take the juice of the innocuously brave souls who decide to continue to live in this world.

• Once took a class on probabilistic models and, it was something that left my brain always curious about why did I put all that knowledge in my brain and, why I am not able to use that knowledge instantly, we do I have to go back and search and re learn it. It would help me have more answers in this time of uncertainty.

The park

There has been a moment of fear, of not knowing when; I woke up early in the morning and walked the dark alley to catch the bus.
The bus was, empty, we got to the entrance and then, we, the park ranger and I, had a conversation. He mentioned the word experience and nervousness. As if they were related, and they are, because according with him, I was not comfortable at all.

Naively I set the route, and overarching goal that would allow me to cover a full on wilderness loop. And, that was important, to have a plan. Little by little things came into place.

A first night with a coyote, a second sunset with magnificent views, a third morning with the glory of a peak. Little by little the park consumed me, trapped me, with its view, I felt more and more vulnerable. More overwhelmed.

Sang for hours, admired for days and nights, the loneliness was my strength. I cherished in the morning the opportunity to admire. Nature moved me. It moved me in the most fundamental way, each stream cleaning my senses, each cold dive quenching the nerves.

Connection was there, all around me. Walking made my legs strong. Went to bed with the sunset, woke up with the sunrise. Set my favorite camp. Independence is beautiful but risky.

What would it take to live with such fresh breaths of wonder every day.

To be impacted by beauty.

To not forget who we are, and get lost in oneself, with no questions. Since nature does not questions you for being, it is there for you. It is there.

Is good with

Lalala lalala lalala lalala

I’ve read about Victor Jara, who was also part of one of the songs of “Los Fabulosos Cadillacs”. Can’t believe how he was assassinated by the military. There is too much hate in the media and I am trying to distance myself from it.

The media is so thrilling with stories of death, displacement, and hate, that after all, it is a fantasy trap. It is a movie, playing day after day telling stories and, readers as spectators.

The spectators are desensitized to the world around is. It is evident, we the spectators live and stoic awe and paralytic reflect of news. It is far easier to criticize than it is to take action and make mistakes, although, some repetitive mistakes are what brings us to the state of modern dumfounds.

Sterilization of brains. There was a horrific period of life that, in order to forget had to be filled with joy and peace. So the poet said: “reject anything that offends your soul” and so, I have rejected the common world with its evident inconsistencies and contradictions.

The character isolated himself in journals of hope and ambition, of dreams for joy and peace. However, the instants and breaths passed in front of his nose and he was unable to sense the so called – reality -, since, he had removed himself from it.

Our character got lost in the sea of fears, experimenting with loneliness, embracing youth, forgetting friends, diving into solitude of self movement. The actor, renounced a few big roles hoping for the next big one, the next big swell, the upcoming opportunity.

To be in an infinity set of roles, his duty.

To reflect, in the persistent fear of letting go of his current role, however, peaceful and joyous it maybe. The slithering of his pain, somatic and indecipherable, partially omit-able. When will it be enough? For how long can this last, without voice, without expression, without thrill?

A full moon brought the joy of beauty, another opportunity for the next roll. -The pressure- piles on. A pressure cooker, an unnerved character.

Speak!!! Speak as you wish!!

All the roles, he can not see, all the smiles he refuses to give, all the moments for change, his old dusty role does not allow him to do so, he is committed to finish what he started, a master piece, a life of transcendence, with multiple episodes, of inspiring quest.

All the expressions we did not need to see, all the instances of caving in, all the rage against his loved ones, who he can not see. All the music in his brain, all the melodies of air, all his wrecked drawings, all the resonant dreams.

All potential in his, all the seeds that did not find fertile shelter, all the hopes of his sexuality, all the sounds of home. All his beds and his luggage, all his hairs and his sights. All the white colors of his families, all the black and pure intentions of his self. All the children, who gave them a bad look, the random encounters, the forgotten words.

All invitations he refused, all melodies of change, all poems not written, all nature not discovered, all risks not taken. All fingers not broken.

Viva Víctor Jara!

Let me go

Ever expanding
All encompassing
Ever creating

Ever understanding
Ever flowing
Ever growing
Ever

Ever reflecting
Ever in presence
Ever aware

All permeating
Ever aligned
Ever surrounding

Ever inside
Ever outside
Ever insight

All in here
All in this
Ever evolving

Ever embracing
Ever alive
Ever

Ever at risk
Ever inspiring
Ever in blossom

All in us
All within
Ever in me

Unusual usual

One of the ideas that have carved my mind lately, is related to structure. Structure and, what items are required to have structure and what items are not deemed necessary for it.[ broad statement, don’t know how else to start; do we need structure at all?]

Some minds have to have structure, indefinitely, indecipherable. As ideas come out, if they lack structure, receptors might not get them and isn’t that a communication problem?. On the other hand if there is already a standard set, then it becomes, the pigeon hole standard from where we can not move.

If it all becomes structural then, processes related to evolution of ideas are stuck. And when I talk about processes, the conversation merges to some abstraction, as if one could not grasp the whole of it and had to refrain from stopping to talk about it and then, as mere result of logic, will have to start to graph it with curves and or diagrams or maybe a picture or a quick drawing.

One could say that structure ended when its medium is not robust enough to portrait a message to send a message. And the lack of structure is in thought also, when there is not enough clarity of mind, there is lack of structure and simplicity.

How can we obtain clarity of mind, if we know the signals and the attention spans are diminished and the focus reduced by how we currently live?

Stuck, no answers. For example:

… It appears to me that life is falling throw an abysm of nothingness were futile activities consume the flame of youth and resentment is washed with distractions of illusions in times and memories of potentials. Actions that are not done and yet, another sunset comes determining the illusion has ended once again, another sunset foretells second chances not taken and the hope that some change will come vanishes once again….

Another one:

… In the mist of loneliness I have found nothing but to follow my self in the long path of seclusion of ideas and hopes with the intention of another break of thought will make sense of the labyrinth that I find myself on. Specially, when I realize that I am wrong and that the path I have chosen is full of acting and performances whose real character is not exposed. Specially, since it is so easy to convince one self of a future faithful idea of beautiful days to come….

Finally:

… Loneliness is the measure of my reality and in the jail of thought this circles between potential actions undone and future pleasures unattained. Particularly, the peace of mind needed to carry one self and perform the mundane, the trivial, the non relevant for existence. It is a matter of time when the over thinker will dissipate and the cosmos will continue its trajectory into the unknown, and this wholeness is alone and complete, complete into the unknown…

Paint and the end of the world

Lately, a considerable portion of the actions that I have done are with the intention and understanding that we are not going to be in this earth for a long period of time. And it has proven to be both exciting and painful. Essentially, dealing with the procrastinator inside of us is not easy.

There is not much of a breakthrough in such understanding of the world. I like the word understanding, I love it. It is close to truth, I love it also. Again, as I was saying, this is not much of a breakthrough, it is an understanding that time is valuable.

It doesn’t necessarily mean that we have to spend it on flamboyant projects. I mean the simple actions the menial, a shower, a toothbrushing activity, a hello. They all have value, since you have to do them and are part of the time you spent on earth. It is fascinating to think how much of our time is spent doing activities considered by most of the general public as menial, yet menial, is the life. That is why living a religious life is important. Not a dogmatic, one, but one in which your menial tasks transform into the habit of appreciating the instants of existence. That is your real religion, your everyday behaviour/actions.

Menial I would replace with, with, consequential? No that doesn’t; make much sense; with quotidian, that is too close, maybe, actions. Religious actions; and or, to not sound so connotationaly bias, ritual existence, oh no, I am going too far out; existence. What are your doing with your existence?

That is a really good question. Since a few people understand what existence means or is for. And there might not even be a for. Only an is. And, in order to take the most of out what is, the method of painting as if it was the end of the world is the one that I have found to be the most fitting for this personal understanding of the self.

It is at the top because it means expression. And it means expression with out the excuse having an infinite array of time do it. The expression is now. And it is exciting and painful. Since the truth must be distilled at the instant. Ahh, the substance.

The quote of the truth and the approximation of truth from Tolstoy goes here and fits neatly    – will share it shortly

“But how can men be united in the truth or even an approximate to it, if they do not even express the truth they know, but hold that there is no need to do so, and pretend to regard as truth what they believe to be false?”
The kingdom of God is within you  – LT

Phew – let us breathe

Let us assume for a moment that a human is a political animal.

Then he is, a person who is active in shaping his political landscape. Therefore, he might be inclined to set his attention into the far and reaching considerations of his political view.

His/her/their recognition of the political landscape is bounded by the ability to attend and interact with it. It is the politics of environmental attention. And attention can be set by his perception. ( from now on using -his-)

Attention and perception then are the drivers of the interaction. What you can perceive demands attention.

Attention lately to political struggles directed towards women’s equality/inequality circumstances have left me baffled. Mainly, a large proportion of the rage with regards to what women in quotidian settings see as injustice is directed to men who are not the creators of the injustice; they are the passive spectators of a traditional way of behaviour.

The detachment is clear since the persons who are decision makers are in a position of power and from a position of power is when abuses can be easily carried. Not all men are in the same position of power with regards to politics, which is the gist of discontent. Not referring here to physical power, or psychic power, or intellectual power. Political power can be handed on by simply having access to elite positions. Socio economical positions. Traditional political families. Those are the groups that are being highlighted as having a patriarchal approach that enables abuse against women. And of course they set the threshold, the example, since higher social structures are however in charge of shaping the political attitudes of  their governance. They have created their own tragedy and state of success. Political groups reflect themselves. Their position of success is their despair.

Casually speaking, with the intention of setting aside a new wave of powerful man that can reclaim their political power, elite groups have opened the gates of discontent to the public ( woman ) to hold steady and control raising men at the granular level. An image is projected to enact dissatisfaction, and women, find a vent of anger in the closest culprit, their quotidian men that do not hold a position of political power as great as the releasers of the information, the creators of the attention, the shapers.  That is a detachment, that is; to think that the load of patriarchal behavioral inconsistencies must be spread out evenly among the men population, enraging women at a distance, while the access to political shaping and, to positions of power, is restrained and made narrower as population struggles to find paths into participatory politics.

It is an horrific intimate debate where the worst and the best of our interaction as a species comes afloat. With due intent of reconciliation with the misdemeanor of fellow men have inducted on other women, what makes me guilty of it, in case of it being sought, it is a disassociation,  It will be a temporary believe in the idea that it was, me; the responsible for treating others uncaringly and therefore my instinct should keep at bay. Temporary is dangerous since it tends to become permanent.

The human journey is such a remarkable endeavor that it is by addressing inequalities of thought that we might be able to understand the deepest questions surrounding our night minutes before going to bed. Yet, in the question of feminism ‘I’ stand by the believe that the process of shame allocation should not be addressed by spreading it evenly among men; who, at the end, have stood by the side of their women encouraging them to go on and build whatever we agree that should be built, despite the awful structure of political governance that surrounds the nuclear family. With at this point is not nuclear any more; reintegration reigns with independence, individuality, and self serving lifestyles.

Instead of creating enemies and dividing the genders even further, a developmental reconciliation lies in the close encounters of intimacy where the two become a truly one. And that oneness shines light in the evermore extending oneness of our experience. A one will not divide shame or rage against the other since the other will be the self, and the self can not live in disharmony with itself. Recognition of the wound is mutually indicative of healing process in which the darkest revealed understanding of patriarchal behaviour it is still to be exorcised into the plenitude of a luminous existance.

Reflection on the intimacy of our impulses creates the appropriate set point of dialectical gender equality since those impulses are mutual characteristic of our instinctual behavior. A cultural expression of your deepest fears, angst, and ideals. A repressive impulse is to be addressed at the moment and avoided for it to be held for generations past to create the tissue of anxiety that has led to today’s discussion. The lack of understanding of our own desires, and the historical reprisal of them by the same elites and/or institutions, covey a direct image of the perpetrators of this ideological gender mess. Yet, it is a beautiful time to recognize each other on it, and address structures of power that attend and tilt the soil of politics in such a way that prohibits the ripe harvest of reconciliation and communion.

There are men eager to set the scale even, yet, some of them have found the greatest obstacle, no in the field of participatory politics, instead at home, in their own bed, with a hurting metaphors depressing the anxiety created by media, night after night into their recognizable agent of patriarchal analogy.

Let us both be free. Ways of life can be changed, they demand though, heaps amounts of courage and recognition; the inevitable prelude for change and load balancing, in the journey . Yet, beware, language is a restriction. It is deterministic. And this introduces linguistics in the conversation because at the end it is, gender issues are but a deterministic discourse based on stereotyping humans that have or don’t have a phallus. And language , or in this case, the rhetoric of gender, will block its own advancement.

” Languages are imperfect (because multiple); the supreme language is missing… no one can utter words which would bear the miraculous stamp of Truth Herself Incarnate… how impossible it is for language to express things… in the Poet’s hands… by the consistent virtue and necessity of an art which lives on fiction, it achieves its full efficacy.” Symbolist poet Stéphane Mallarmé:

What is that language we are discussing that is so much needed? That stamp of truth!!  Truth itself incarnated! , that seal of Understating….

That my friends is likely to be found in the mute linguistics of shared intimacy; in a mutual agreement of fusion; in the trust of fear, in the shameless exposure of those fears, in the wordless act of  ….

——-

– This was struck by
beauty
this heart wrecked itself
as a shattered glass

at sight of beauty
yourself projected
this self –

Flow and structure ( taken from them)

There was someone who told me that writting for tha sake of publishing is an unpure act.

Why don’t yoy write to yourself?

The main, motivation is to share and to see what is out there… a reply, maybe, the idea of being listened by someone else. If I write only to myself then myself self is the only listener and dissasociation happens. This has heard.

Why do you write at all?

It is to show that you have a voice something to share beyond the quotidian. Beyond friends. Wow, they are, after all listeners.

Why do you do what you do?

Enchantment. Enchantment from day one in castles and paradises of love and tragedy, of whippings and moans, of jiggles and cuddles. Wow, beauty this has seen.

Boundless reservoir you are not. Said of curiosity, yes you are. Without perversion the images are collected and in the baseness of existance; radiant hope can be found.

Whispers of desire
Calm inevitable storm

Dreams of careses and sheets
Fulfill the path unknown

^This is a code^

Can you interpret it? language falls short, or shoudl I write a book? that is also meta, a pedestrian one, full of explanations, that will be unpure? or is it pure to share?  Even the most base…the pureness of wrong doings, the indesputable jail of dogma, will this have to write a book, without walls and without corners, directly.

Then kindness unbalanced with clevernes, this post is mostly done. If I am kind, and explain in simple language, in universal letters, then it may die, or live for ever. Who knows, if I don’t and write a code, the clever ones, will only know.

In all matter; I don’t know. You caught me unprepared, and this was the one who spoke.

 

All around

All, only, never.

This piece was created as a shared screen looped in the infinitum.

In this post I wanted to address conveying ideas, lunacy, and practical nirvanas.

 

Conveying ideas:

In some previous post I have noticed the rawness of my writting. Noticed the decadence of lenguage and its purest more free form. Not caring for personal categorization, not caring for the audience, and most importantly, not caring for any of what the reader may think.

Not caring for the reader creates and interesting, point. Why write the ideas first? There must be some caring at the end. Then, there is a care from a distance from abstraction and it is a care that resembles a classical alieneation. Well, yes, to all of you I say yes. The sadness  in part is, if we continue with this approach and line of reasoning that; Pulitzer price winners are rated by the quality of the way their ideas are portrayed and not by the idea itself.

Horrible. This will mean that the fundamental substance is not applauded, what it is appreciated is the ease of how the substance is assimilated through parametric lenguage. Substance than can be readily poisonous and base. More base than the lenguage from previous posts.

Then and fundamentally, I am obliged to find help and mix substance with rigidity of lenguage and/or discard Pulitzer prize and obtain a minimum common ground for understanding so brains capture and are not offended. Are eased, are lured into substance. An editor? yes I need an editor, or agency.

 

Lunacy:

The lunacy that surrounds all, inside and outside, is part of life. And therefore, it must be loved. However, lunacy and what surround us, give us the small option to choose.

Technological brains advanced as you can imagine, with a zero respespect for the word and for what it means, not the lenguage, the word; destined to live in a maze. The air , the sound. Sounds that have no beauty, rather be in silence. Eyes that see no beauty, rather have the option to close them.

Technological brains I am sorry , no is my answer. And the reason is that there is no pause no space, no half glass, no lamp. Only, dark energy. Ok, mostly.

Practical nirvanas:

Small interactions that give meaning are but the pragmatic approach to understand life in a close, closer, and infinitesimal time frame. Practical nirvanas are self created delusions to provide meaning among the universe of ideas and spaces. This post, a meal a goal, self created nirvanas. Fewer as time goes by, create the elixir of the inital feeling. And after all, they are practical to give us a space for life, for hope, for the possibility of a better tomorrow. Some say tomorrow doesn’t exist, some say tomorrow is all, it is everything, absolutism.

If we could value them by the amount of energy consumed and also by how much they increase our quality of life, I would like to say, they are worth examining. However, since everyone lives its own individual nirvana, and it is only when collective archetypes are shaken that re adjustment is required; keep enjoying yours.

The majority, mostly, once in a while.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good news travel fast

This post dedicated to the creators of good content.  Not necesary positive, just good content.

In a wonderful evening, over Encinitas, California, there was a magnificent sunset with clouded skies. A decent wave came every 34 minutes and the prospects of a wonderful evening were high.

In such artic oceans for tropical souls, lust for life renders itself omniprescent in the shape of father and daughter playing in the waves.

One after another, the sysiphean journey of water slaming the shore created the scene for these two best, friends, father and daughter to play.

Romantic is the scenography, yet, in the spirit of good news and not only becasue of so, but also , because it was real, we highlight the connectedness of their playfulness.

Humans interact with joy in this Californian evening, the 65 year old or more, or less, who cares; behaves as a 10 year old in cool water with a warm heart. His daughter, feeling older than she appers to be, pushes him under water and tackles the waves as they come, one after another, fall after fall, plunge after plunge, smile and scream, joy is alive on earth.

Thankful for the evident exposition of hope, love, and playfulness; it was suggested to share the good news.

Share the good news always or create them, get diluted in the real human world.