moving or in stillness
right action can flow
hear it traverse along the songlines
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even before we were born
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i know that you know
that i think i know
what we know
i am
is
i am
what i know
and...
i know what i think
you think you know
but
what am i?
Know Thyself
In this hall light will find you,
Holding hands as the walls come tumbling down,
When they do, I will be right beside you,
The wings of a dove will replace the golden crown.
The church was damaged but still holding on. The massive stone walls were cracked, scraped and in some places holed but the structure looked stronger than ever. In fact, the damage gave it even more charisma, the sense of history and security, the true feeling of a sanctuary despite the fact that the interior was mostly destroyed.
The pews were stacked in the corners of the church, one on top the other. In the middle was a medium-sized bonfire, fueled by pieces of wood gathered from the outside or the pews themselves. There were about two dozen people scattered around the bonfire, men and women sitting down, some were anxiously walking up and down, others pondering and wondering about their task. All but few were deep in thought; those few were too tired to contemplate the nature of their destiny.
The poet was sitting on a chair with his love sitting on top of him and resting on his shoulder. They were both exhausted, in a state of half-awakeness and half-sleep, constantly drifting, prepared for another battle and awaiting the times of peace and prosperity.
There he was as well… Maurits was dressed in the 18th century warrior clothes, the dandy attire filled with hidden weapons and accessories, decorated with only black and white. He was facing the cracked temple of the Jesus on the cross behind which was the cathedral stained glass. Instead of a saint or a prophet, it was shaped in a circle with the symbol of the Flower of Life in the colors of the entirety of the visible specter. He was contemplating whether people even knew what it meant, do they know what he stood for… or has the meaning been lost by literal reading, corrupt leaders or people who think not with their heads.
Everyone in the church wore black and white uniforms, mostly torn and damaged but still functional and recognizable. They all bared swords and knives although none of them looked like soldiers. The only thing that indicated they went through battles were the scratches and bruises on their equipment and bodies and the exhaustion they all shared.
“Excuse me, sir, but I need to enquire… what awaits us here?” a woman softly spoke, facing Maurits who was still gazing upon the crucified Christ. He never showed anxiety or fear, no signs of confusion or doubt, just a face which looked amazed and bewitched by human history and the course it went on. A slight, bitter aftertaste was also notable in the back of his throat.
“We await our next trial, madam. This church is offering us protection from the Grays for now. But they outnumber us greatly and are sure to strike soon enough.” His voice was deep and slightly raspy, it sounded intellectually seductive, a voice which garnered attention with its clarity and presence and commanded contemplation upon hearing it.
“But, sir, please… I do not understand. Why do they attack us? What have we ever done to deserve this?” the woman continued.
Maurits faced her and his expression spoke of a man who had once asked the same question himself. “We are a threat to their ignorance. They feel their authority and life philosophy come under scrutiny and therefore seek to remove us from their sights…and minds. You have done nothing but faced the fog in you and came to conclusions upon which you live your life. You showed courage and control to face yourself despite outside pressures of expectation or the pressures of submission to pre-existing norms … that is all you have done.”
“But that makes even less sense. How does this threaten anyone but maybe ourselves?!” a man shouted, a man which was kneeling on a column and now jumped up in fury and confusion. “If what you speak is true, then the Grays would see us as beacons of hope and would seek our help with their questions!”
“You have just answered it yourself, soldier. Questions! You confuse your own capability of inner examination with that of others. They don’t question themselves. They hold tight to their beliefs, which are never their own, with a fierce grip and most of them would rather die than let go. Whoever comes along and questions the foundations on which they base their whole existence, even if not imposed on them, must be removed by all means. It is a tragedy of humanity that one’s inner quest for self-betterment, understanding and wisdom can pose a threat to another.”
The man walked up and down and shook his head more and more as Maurits talked. “Still it does not benefit us or them if we fight in wars that kill us all. If your words are true, then we are the wiser, so it’s our fault that it has receded to the point of drawing blood. Surely there is a way of telling them that our quest is our own, for our own benefit and the only thing we would like to do is help!”
Maurits held his hands behind his back, his chest exposed, his eyes fiery, determined but simultaneously calming and understanding. He stood in place as the man walked near him, always gazing directly into his eyes. “This is a question of kill or be killed, nothing else. They seek only our submission, not our words of wisdom nor our help. But our submission is impossible because you all know that what is once understood can never be forgotten. You may forget facts, but not lessons. Our complete submission is an impossibility of which even they are aware of. This is way we are engaged at war.”
“Then I give up,” proclaimed the walking man, raising his hands into the air. “If this is a battle of pure survival then our quest is pointless. I don’t wish to be a man of violence when all I want is to offer assistance to others as much as myself. It is a contradiction of which I cannot be a part of.”
“Your point is a solid one and would be true if it wasn’t for one thing. Hope. Our fight is not necessarily for us alone, it is for a notion, an idea and a hope that one day our children may live in a world not preoccupied by fear, confusion and corruption. We must perceiver for the hope that humans may one day transcend the mind of an animal.”
A man who was sitting on the ground near the fire, his uniform in tatters, his skin scratched and bruised, spoke up: “But how can we be sure that it is we who are right? Just because we enquire about life or ourselves does not mean we stand at a higher ground then the Grays. Furthermore, you said they seek submission from us. Why are they so hell-bent on control? What drives them to control those who do not share their views or even those who do? Why do they hold control at such a high esteem?”
“Because they have none of it. When your inner world is a mystery, it inevitably becomes a contradiction, a paradox. The lack of answers leads to lack of control due to the fact that you cannot find cause and effect to your changing moods or your mindset. When dealing with yourself becomes an impossibility, you turn to controlling the world around you. Instead of adapting your view, you adapt those who surround you. When you feel lonely, you demand affection; when you feel powerless, you strive to become an authority… so when you feel a chaos of thoughts and emotions inside you which change beyond your control, you strive to change your environment to fit your current state.”
“So it’s envy that drives them?!” another woman shouted loudly so the voice echoed in the church and interrupted Maurits.
“More than envy; fear. In these minds, chaos rules. After years and years of piling up unresolved traumas, the fear of the world overcomes you; your biggest enemy becomes you. So what do they do? They bury it deep down inside and continue to live under the illusion of safety and a generally perceived normality… everyone is like this, they say. And then a disturbance occurs; they bear witness to one of you, the people who question the things which dig into the painful pasts we all have as individuals, someone with authentic skin and an authentic outlook, someone real… that becomes a threat. When you invest so much of your time avoiding yourself, it pains you beyond measure to see someone brave enough to confront themselves. So at first, they deny. Deny your quests and write them off as pointless and irresolvable. If this does not work, they ridicule you. Put labels on you such as crazy, “special”, insane, deluded, deranged, superstitious, senseless, lost in your own world… if you survive these methods of denial and rejection and you continue with your questioning, then they attack. When their rule, their lifetime attempt at illusionary control is under threat of being dismantled, they will hold no quarter and will kill everything which stands in the way to their control. But rest assured that after they get rid of you, they will surely sanctify you, make you into a symbol of freedom and love. This is a repeating pattern of history, you know many examples and there are many more stories of unsung heroes that you will never hear of. It is also a repeating pattern on every level, from presidents and directors to domestic lives.”
There was silence in the church, only disturbed by the crackling of the fire. Maurits continued: “So to answer your previous question: we are not better than them, we are wise enough to see there is no hierarchy among people nor should there be. We are teachers who know just as much or maybe a tiny bit more than the pupil, but our quest is in learning together! Theirs is the preservation of status quo, not of learning, but staying the same.”
From the back of the church, in the dark, a woman’s voice rang and echoed in the halls: “So what is their ultimate goal? What do the Grays want? We established that they seek control and status quo, but is that all or do they have something bigger in mind?”
Maurits turned to her and although she wasn’t visible aside from her silhouette, he found her eyes like a sniper. “There are those among them who are the extremes of the specter, who truly seek nothing but control, whether it is with power or money or status. But most commonly they seek peace, unity, order and purpose.”
The walking man now stopped in place and glared at Maurits with disbelief: “Wait, wait, wait. Those things sound quite admirable, in my opinion. What do we then stand for?!”
“The absolute same things. The only difference is that we believe in the freedom of choice whilst they, on the other hand, see free will as an opposing threat and an invitation to chaos. They want to rule all institutions of society in order to impose unity, peace and order and are not afraid to use lethal force on all those who do not share their views.”
“So basically…” the walking (now standing) man continued: “they want to rule the world while we want to free it, correct?”
“Now hold on just a second!” another voice rose in the shadows of the church and stepped forward, revealing the face of a young woman: “You keep on painting the picture of control as a negative thing! Surely it is needed otherwise it all really is chaotic, some aspects of control are absolutely vital for survival!”
Voices of approval were heard reverberating all across the church, everyone agreed with the woman. Maurits laughed softly out loud and spoke in an even deeper voice: “Everyone wants to rule the world.”
The same woman now looked baffled and showed an exaggerated expression of confusion and disbelief. An older man with a long, brown beard who was kneeling quietly next to the wall now stood up and spoke: “That is just untrue, sir. I, for one, have no interest in ruling any other human, neither in this room nor anywhere else. My grandmother and grandfather would be another example of people who only wish to enjoy life, share it and not rule over any other being, be it human or animal. They live in a country house, not too far away from here. They do crosswords together, take long walks and plant flowers all day long. I can assure you that they have no ambition of world domination.”
Again the halls were filled with the voices and nods of approval. Maurits cautiously looked upon their faces and smiled a sweet but mischievous grin. “You all mistake the world I am talking about. The world we know is limited by ourselves. By this I mean that all that you know about the world has a source in your senses; you saw it, heard it, touched it, smelt it, tasted it. Within this we must also include your thoughts and emotions, your ideas and revelations, the feelings of pain and pleasure; they all decide your world. So, you see… we all wish to be masters of the world, but for you, and your grandmother and grandfather,” (he nodded to the bearded man) “and all others who share our black and white uniform, it means the acceptance of yourself. Control is a negative term from every conceivable perspective; the only thing we should aspire to is the acceptance of ourselves and others, nothing more.”
The shadowed woman spoke again: “I’m sorry but I’m the first to admit I have problems with my self-acceptance, I’m nowhere near someone who has themselves in check and their will in obedience or has the ability to fully embrace it. I still have my vices. Why then do I have this uniform? I struggle with accepting myself as I am. It seems by your definition that I do not deserve this cloak.”
“Ah, see, here you hit the nail on the head unknowingly! How incompetent is a man who realizes the limits of his competence? You and all of you realize your vices, you know you have them and you realize their spectrum. Which grants you the knowledge that they are vices, that they are black but you also know that they hold a white side for you, they balance out the bad side with the good, the white with the black. You know that your vices are, in some way, necessary for you at this particular for whatever individual reason. The self control in this case is granted through the acceptance of the ying-yang.”
The bearded man had a very interested look as he kept starring at Maurits and wondering, so he questioned: “But let’s say that our vices get the better of us, that the black overrides the white… what then happens to us? Do we become all black? Do we become all evil or something?”
“No sir, becoming all black is an impossibility, as is becoming all white. Everything has a balance whether we see it or not. What would happen if you stepped beyond your control is already evident in the war we are fighting; you would join their side, your black and white would mix to become gray and hence you would lose the clarity of distinguishing between what is negative and what is positive for yourself!”
The woman who spoke at the beginning, who first raised her voice, now spoke with almost a broken-hearted tone: “It’s impossible to become… all white? Isn’t that what we are, in a sense, hoping for? And fighting for?”
Maurits turned to her and smiled a comforting smile, fully understanding the question and the innocence in her voice: “It is what we are fighting for, madam. We fight for transcending that which is animal, to become more than mere flesh, to aspire to the only thing which makes us better than any other fellow being on this Earth: freedom of choice. We fight for the loosening of the chains we put on ourselves, for the freedom to be, the freedom to become, transform, evolve. It is that and that alone which makes us more and abolishing it would result in devolution, regression back into no consciousness.”
“But…what happens if the people choose slavery? What if they want to be controlled? What then?” the walking man asked and very anxiously awaited for the answer. Even his voice was soft and barely audible, shaking as if he had asked a question to which he did not want to hear the answer.
“Then… the entire experiment of free will is lost, then the chance of becoming something better and something more, something greater…it all vanishes and is replaced by the sense of inevitability, the sense of pointlessness. If that happens…we lose. But even then, my friends, we have to give these people a choice. Instead of intimidating them all the time by providing threats and painting the picture of the world as a very grim place, filled with murder, deceit, corruption and evil, we educate them. In place of promoting a lifestyle of decadence, apathy and self-enhancement only via power and money, we show them the real picture, where we are all one; every human is there for a purpose, a purpose THEY decide. We are all equal whether we like it or not. A cook provides equally as much as does any CEO or president of any country. You know, just as well as I do… if we replace fear with love and give these people a choice between freedom or control… they will all proudly wear our uniforms and fight for our cause and the results would be visible within a single lifetime.”
Maurits paused, awaiting another question, but the people were silent. So he finished the thought: “Love only grows out of freedom; the freedom of expression, the freedom of choice… the freedom to be. What the Grays experimented with was growing this flower under artificial light, in artificial soil, watering it with artificial water and giving artificial nutrients. The result was a flower which was…well, artificial. Because, you see, no light made by man can give what the Sun can. The flower knows; it knows what is real and not, it can easily distinguish fake from true. It knows when it is allowed to grow or when she is expected to grow.”
The walking man asked: “So what does happen when we transcend? If we are not all white, then what do we become?”
Now Maurits turned to the couple sitting and drifting on the seat in each other’s arms. They never spoke a word but listened to everything that was spoken. With barely open eyes the poet saw Maurits’s gaze starring directly at them, but he didn’t know what to say. So Maurits spoke: “You will have a live demonstration right in front of you by these two fellow soldiers and healers, is that not so, Prince Vlad?”
“My name is not Vlad and my title definitely not Prince. I rule no one and aspire to no such thing.”
“Precisely! What makes you worthier of the title then?” Maurits smiled with a feeling of pride and honour, which baffled both the poet and his love. “By the understanding that you have for the things I explained, it automatically grants you the title, dear Vlad.”
“And what makes you King in this hierarchy of things where there is no hierarchy, where less control over others and more control of yourself grants you a bigger title? What would make me King?” the poet asked.
Maurits smiled gently and looked into her eyes, gazing with a knowing stare then looked back at the poet and uttered: “A princess.”
He walked to the middle of the church and asked the two to walk up to the middle, where five stairs were leading down to the hall which lead to the main entrance. Baffled, the couple stood up and followed orders and in that moment, the entire church began to shake. The already damaged stones began rumbling, the statue of the Cross began shaking and braking, the glasses of the Flower began coming down.
The people all stood up, quickly grabbed their shields and weapons and looked around in a state of near panic. One of them yelled: “What is happening?!”
Maurits answered nonchalantly without even looking at person: “They are mounting another attack, they’re surrounding the church.” All the people in the castle brought their shields closer to their chests, their swords and guns at arms’ length, scared but ready to fight… everyone except the two, who were looking at Maurits as he started whispering to them:
“You will lead these men and women by example. What they will witness now will give them all the hope they need in this and every other fight. The Grays will be storming the front gate at any moment; all you must do is walk while facing them directly, hand in hand, no weapons held, no defense against them. Walk with courage and determination, walk together and all will be alright. What we will witness you will feel, just hold no fear for what is about to happen. Put your trust into you, each other and watch the world around you acknowledge it and change because of it. Now go!”
Maurits stepped back behind them, the two lovers starred into each others’ eyes and smiled as they always did. As soon as their hands were holding, the spectacle began; both of their skins became covered in the shades of black and white, from the eyes, the face, hands, every part which wasn't covered by the uniform turned either into black or white and they perfectly mirrored themselves. Baffled and amazed, they both starred at each other for quite a few moments. “No fear!” Maurits yelled from behind.
That’s when they turned to the main entrance and stepped on the first stair. The church was crumbling and the front door was being shattered. After a few seconds, it broke and in stormed an army of gray men, indistinguishable from one another, no facial features to recognize, no uniform to bind them; they were completely gray. The only thing that was noticeable was the human figure they occupied and the swords in their hands. Maurits pulled out both of his swords, his eyes covered by the hood of his cloak. The smile on his face was that of expectation and acceptance as he witnessed the spectacle in front of him.
The Grays felt threatened by it, so they stormed them, whilst the others were almost frozen in place and couldn't pull their eyes away from the lovers. The coloring of the skin was sudden, unexpected and incredible enough, but it didn't stop there… because the shades weren't stationary. They began moving like a liquid between them. If before there was a wall between the white and the black, now both reached to each other and connected; it looked like water which was binding to become greater and bigger. The two never stopped walking, but the more they walked, the more intense the spectacle became. In intensified to a point where one of them became completely black and the other completely white, the meeting point of the two was in their holding hands. But even this switched; like water, the shades flowed between them so the one who was white before now became black and vice versa. The speed of this intensified by the second, until the two shades became indistinguishable and all that was seen was light which was dancing around them. Soon, even the two lovers disappeared behind this switching light. The Grays were now just a step away from them and in that moment, the final transformation happened.
Maurits smiled and saw the amazement in the eyes of his fellow soldiers, he saw the spark of hope and understanding which only this spectacle could provide. The Grays were disheartened and in shock.
After the immense shifting light stopped moving, it was revealed. The two lovers disappeared from sight.
They had become invisible.
Invisible and invincible.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z8T9U1giTsA
Maybe this will mean something to someone.
Thom Yorke played surprise DJ set at UNDERCOVER’s 25th anniversary event (UNDERCOVER OF THE NIGHT - 25th Anniversary of UNDERCOVER) in Tokyo tonight (5 September, 24:00-26:00)
http://www.vision-tokyo.com/event/undercover-of-the-night-25th-annivesary-of-undercover ;
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jonio_takahashi’s photo on Instagram
http://instagram.com/p/skNkGXyvS-/ ;
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jonio_takahashi’s photo on Instagram
http://instagram.com/p/skY4PPSvVG/
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kozziiiii’s photo on Instagram
http://instagram.com/p/skaax_PnOZ/ ;
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ninico_’s photo on Instagram
http://instagram.com/p/skk4Z0Fqh5/
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ellirose’s photo on Instagram
http://instagram.com/p/skcaxutF_d/ ;
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yukikosakai’s video on Instagram
http://instagram.com/p/skkUQ0IbjO ;
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ryoyksopp’s video on Instagram
http://instagram.com/p/sknWXSAlFC ;
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angayuka’s video on Instagram
http://instagram.com/p/sknjl7x-eV ;
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tuzzurri17’s video on Instagram
http://instagram.com/p/skrndAQm44 ;
her other videos
http://instagram.com/p/skrTYzwm4i/
http://instagram.com/p/skr8q6wm5Z/
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partial tracklist *in random order
Sidney Bechet – Blue Horizon
Zomby – Rumours & Revolutions
eomac – no name
Mr. Oizo – Positif
Thom Yorke – The Clock (Surgeon Remix)
Boy 8-Bit – Fog Bank
Owiny Sigoma Band – Margaret Okudo - Dub
Radiohead – Meeting in the Aisle
Sidney Bechet Trio – Strange Fruit
MMM – Que Barbaro
Radiohead – Good Evening Mrs Magpie (Modeselektor RMX)
Modeselektor – 200007 (Siriusmo Remix)
Trim - Trousers Remix (Explicit)
Manna Dey, Mohd Rafi, S D Batish, Sudha Malhotra, Chorus - Yeh Hai Ishq Ishq
Joe - Slope
Stefan Goldmann - Fat Tails
Riva Starr - Dance Me (Original Mix)
*thanks to http://noise-jam.tumblr.com , http://twitter.com/chizuru_rh
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Thom Yorke DJing at UNDERCOVER OF THE NIGHT in Tokyo (by yskooooo)
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DJ THOM YORKE in UNDERCOVER OF THE NIGHT ① (by FLOWERS ROMANCE)
check his other videos [X]
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http://www.geek.com/geek-cetera/30-years-of-the-music-industry-looks-like-in-30-seconds-1415243/
you see..i've had...many dreams...
many dreams that are more real than 'here'...and i hate reality for this...because it,very naturally, makes me feel insane.
you see, once upon a time, i was a-float-ing-away in an endless abyss, before i was awakend by a great a many voices sayin' to me, 'awake'....and....' look down below'...and there i saw a great bright glowing ball aflame o' fire. and i said,' eh, how dark it is down there!'
although it was all lit with fire, it was dark, and the voices told me i must go, and so did,.obey the one. this was..a many memories ago. but i remember, in dreaming or in wake-fullness i know. another place is not this. i know...space, very well, as my home.
so i spoke with the many voices and we all agreed (as we always have to) about a mission, to save, any a number of one planet.
i was unsure, afraid that i might not make it back home, but i had to...agree...for when the one voice speaks, it is All.
And so the voices of the multitude persuaded me and i had to go 'there' to this 'earth'...to save it...from..who knows what?
what a terrible fright:
who knew that darkness could look so bright?
so i awoke from my sleep and arrived in my mothers womb, and that darkness was more bright than the place i came from, with these senses, i hardly remember it...and so it is...all is forgotten...
i think i could have been around five years old when i dreamed this, and yet...i don't remember an exact age. it's just a memory that is more comforting to think of as a dream...
i forgot..and so..
carry on...
what was i saying?
the earth needs saving.
i don't know why i'm here. i just know that....
i saw this bright jewel gleaming and i knew...i could get lost there...thats why i was afraid..but i knew i had to come...here, and i knew i could get lost here...and i knew it was worth dying for.
and i want to fufill...a promise.
a promise that i may have even forgotten, but..i know in my heart.
the earth is alive
and we are raping her.
but we can save it, we can save her!!!
i want to be a PART of what i came here for, and the only thing i feel close to home is...something like 'here' this "waste place" so i have hung around and waited...because everything else has seemed less than worth while: "career, business, status, fame, talent...etc" all these things seem to be ...'kindle a'waiting to burn in the fire', to me....
i just want to be a part of the one great good.
and i've sumerized (?) that that
is only
LOVE
i have no great purpose, i have no great cause...
just
TO LOVE
i hope i can return 'home',
wherever that is...
where i came from,
the place where words are spoken..without sound
and colour is like light both sound and taste.
i want to go home...
Can you help me get there?
I'm tired.
X
Love
oh, shit,
what i meant say is...
love is as strong as death
and it will make you die
over and over again,
until you really die.
and some say this
may be
peti mal?
whatever, i don't speak french
but i like it.
does that make sense?
it's up to you to understand what death really is
for all is nothing
and nothing is all
and everything is just a matter of perspective.
but
I FUCKING LOVE YOU !!!
but i want to show you that,
not just write it.
I AM.
Kids Love For Animals ( Poem )
Children’s favorite shows are of animals
I have hours in a playlist that are laughable
Like a camera pecking rooster and fun monkeys
To a mom and a baby miniature donkeys
Videos of wild turkeys and charming geese
Ducks in water and chicks learning to speak
Dazzling ostrich and many free birds
Some you would not want to move towards
A large unique animal is the alligator
The total opposite of the caterpillar
Camels and alpacas are tall and exquisite
But they spit at you when you try to visit
There are also hornpout and catfish videos
and a painted box turtle that is really slow
Beautiful miniature horses and elegant ponies
Border collies herding sheep to earn their trophies
Little kids pig scramble is stunning to see
and a little fawn as precious as can be
Cow’s hair that needs braiding is fascinating
With the most assortment you’ve ever seen
Come to my view with me youtube channel
If the kids are being hard to handle
Just start it up and walk away
To get your housework done for the day
By : Doris Anne Beaulieu
At : https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLWSq_PMWxD9q2V0UVqzX50Y6Y2pDaKISv
Creating A Christmas Tree ( Poem )
Create designer Christmas tree
From squash, to bread, and fun cookies
Instructions made so easily
One from red hat society
Home from the heart season theme
Star wars made a holiday scene
Wonderland can be of little lambs
Making ornaments with your hands
Whatever your style or budget
Your personal touch can be tropic
Focal point of your home can be
Inspired by glamorous jewelry
We can help you get great ideas
With animals and birds all right here
My playlist has ribbons and streamers
A celebration for all dreamers
By; Doris Anne Beaulieu
At : https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLWSq_PMWxD9ozi9kFah-4L2le3b0_BY1P
http://www.evergig.com/artists/Radiohead
#NotYoutube #WatchAndTry #RequestYourFavor Site : www.evergig.com
Tractor Pulls ( Poem )
America’s passion tractor haul
Ford and Farmall want to take it all
Showcasing your tractor is never dull
Case give a strong performance call
See a smokey John Deere tractor
Unleash yourself in an Oliver
Massey Ferguson speeds uncovered
As International pulls with no effort
White’s power with high tractive force
As McCormick is running the course
Agricultural machinery Competition
Fun family oriented tractor pullin’
Opportunities may come and go
You all know it’s a successful show
So let’s go see all the videos
At my youtube playlist channel flow
By: Doris Anne Beaulieu
At: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLeDDBJWyV8iI_mO-Fnllc9jg4Xty_JcEJ
Hi Everyone!
I'd like to share with you one of our new original songs. We're working on our first album, which will be out soon. Hope you like it :)
Facebook: www.facebook.com/anybodytheremusic
Twitter: @anybody__there
Love is All
no thing:
simply the absense of
that which is:
hot
cold!
what of that?!
let us only speak of
what is:
love
for it
is
all
and Lord of us;
all songs
all stories
every sentiment
of all time
rippled through
and through eternity.
we also know
the absence
the no-
thing
the emptiness
the lack of
this all-
thing.
let us speak of that
also
No sound
No light
No hope
All dark
Barren
Almost forgotten
and yet....
Love remembers us
as the light of the stars
amid the darkness!!
how the two are wed
and
one
now and forever-more
we cannot know
one without the other
how beautiful,
how lonely,
how thoughtful.
how perfectly created
we all are,
being.
just as we are...
All is Love.
William Blake - The Tyger
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Rumi - Our Death is Our Wedding
Our death is our wedding with eternity.
What is the secret? "God is One."
The sunlight splits when entering the windows of the house.
This multiplicity exists in the cluster of grapes;
It is not in the juice made from the grapes.
For he who is living in the Light of God,
The death of the carnal soul is a blessing.
Regarding him, say neither bad nor good,
For he is gone beyond the good and the bad.
Fix your eyes on God and do not talk about what is invisible,
So that he may place another look in your eyes.
It is in the vision of the physical eyes
That no invisible or secret thing exists.
But when the eye is turned toward the Light of God
What thing could remain hidden under such a Light?
Although all lights emanate from the Divine Light
Don’t call all these lights "the Light of God";
It is the eternal light which is the Light of God,
The ephemeral light is an attribute of the body and the flesh.
…Oh God who gives the grace of vision!
The bird of vision is flying towards You with the wings of desire.
John Donne - Holy Sonnets X.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so ;
For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture[s] be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke ; why swell'st thou then ?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more ; Death, thou shalt die.
Dylan Thomas - And Death Shall Have no Dominion
And death shall have no dominion.
Dead man naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.
And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.
The auditorium was vast, filled with hundreds of dark red-leathered seats spread throughout its entirety and a humongous wooden stage at the end of it, in the back of which a dark, red curtain was hiding the backstage of this world. The room was dimly lit and every sit had an occupant, stretching from young to old, men and women whom were talking among each other with great ease and light-heartedness about everyday activities, accomplishments and successes. Their speech was not loud and the aura felt easy and relaxing with an aftertaste of great ignorance and denial.
None of them knew why they were there, they were all anticipating a show…was it a single person, a band, a musical performance, a drama, an opera? None of them knew the answer but they all anticipated a spectacle, something reflecting the atmosphere of the room; light-hearted, relaxing and entertaining.
The curtain slightly moved and it captured the attention of everyone, dropping the auditorium into a dead silence, filled with anticipation and an undeniable sense of dread, as if the apparition might endanger the lives of those watching. To some extent, they were right to fear.
Truly, the fears were partly justified, because the person who walked on stage seemed like an apparition; part angel, part demon, black and white in colour and in mirror image, split down the middle. Dressed in a long coat that stretched to his knees, the man was the definition of duality. The left side of the coat was completely white, the right one pitch black. The trousers were in reverse order, the right leg was white and the left one black with fine shoes in mirror image colours. The attire was not the only thing which was tinted in such a way… so was the skin. The right hand was white with black fingernails and black veins which were pushing out beneath the skin, the other hand in opposite colouring.
The most striking thing about this man was his face. Mixture of black in white, going straight down the middle and what scared everyone the most was the fact that it seemed like this wasn't makeup. The right side of the face was white with half of the lips black, the whites of the eyes black, so were the eyelashes and eyebrows and all the wrinkles he made by every facial expression. The hair on the right half was black and everything was perfectly mirror imaged on the left side (so were the wrinkles; the wrinkles on the black half were white which was the biggest indicator that this wasn’t a mask or a façade).
He walked with a slight hunchback which was barely noticeable but not invisible, the eyes were menacing both because of their unique colouring but also for their coldness and vivid rationality. Combined with this was a permanent and perpetual smile which if you looked at it without noticing the eyes would seem a warm and comforting smile but in combination with the entirety of the face and posture seemed frightening and uncomfortable.
He walked to the front of the stage, calmly gazing the vast audience for what seemed an eternity but in fact was only a minute. The auditorium was so silent you could hear the echo of the man’s breath. Finally he moved, reaching into his right pocket and pulling out a white cigarette box, taking out one white cigarette. He lit it with a black lighter which produced pitch black fire, inhaled and then exhaled an angelically white smoke which quickly lifted to the roof of the auditorium.
“For what seems the day
Might be the night,
Your agonizing dread
Another’s pure delight,
Walking in shadows
Convinced to be in the light,
What you perceive to be the darkest Black
Might be the purest White.”
The voice was slightly raspy and deep, a strong baritone which echoed in the entire room. Just like everything about him, the voice held a dual nature; soothing and attractive but also menacing and terrifying. He took another smoke of the cigarette and continued to gaze into the public. There was an intense illusion happening, an undeniable feeling everyone felt but no one would admit; although he might be facing away from you, it would seem that every word and every gesture was intended solely for you and no one else. He looked into no one’s eyes but everyone felt his secondary stare (every member would swear to this) was intended for them and the entire spectacle was a lesson for them in particular. This filled the auditorium with a heavy feeling of guilt and shame but it felt distant, because it balanced out by the fact the man seemed harmless and, in fact, protective and good-willed, here to teach and help.
The man knew this very well, knew the reaction that he induced and was fully aware what the following talk would do to them all. That’s what he was there for, that’s why he is here. He took a few steps to his right, every step echoing with the sound of a giant sledgehammer hitting a brick wall, but followed by the feeling of relief and peace. Everything was dual about this man.
“Forgive them, Father, for they don’t know themselves. I am constantly amazed by the level of acceptance you have for the fog that engulfs your life and how falsely appreciative of it you are. Ignorance may be bliss from a certain perspective, but most of you take that much further and make it gospel. The Gospel of Ignorance.”
He sarcastically smirked but it was not a smile of cynicism, it was one of disappointment and frustration. “What is more blasphemous is that you convince yourselves and each other that this is the way it should be, that the fog is a permanent and perpetual one, one that doesn't go away and can never disappear. That is true, but not because the detailed duality of life between white and black is so webbed it will always remain gray but because you do nothing at attempting to understand it and map it, making it clearer and more precise. You accept the fog not because of its undying nature but because of fear, the fear of introspection, the fear of change, the fear of pain, the fear of knowing yourself.
Because it all begins with you. You are the microcosm of everything happening around you, you are the anger and confusion of this world, you are the problem you complain about, you are the love and salvation in every book you read, movie you see and song you hear, you are the war happening somewhere on this planet, you are the battlefield of the good and the evil. The dust this battlefield produces reaches high and fogs everything in sight, making all appear gray and indistinguishable from everything else. But you just aren’t looking close enough.”
He paused for another smoke and took a minute to view the gazes of the audience. All of them were silent and he read every mind. They were all convinced that he was speaking directly to them, making them confront themselves in front of everyone else. Good, he thought.
“Don’t get me wrong, the web is highly detailed and very complex, filled with hidden corridors, passages and canals. But none of it, at any point, is gray. The fog you witness is not there, it is only in your mind; it is there because you either are not wise enough to see, you purposefully ignore or deliberately deny seeing. For you, it is either white… or black… never gray… Within this understanding lays another path.”
He turned around and faced away from the audience which had the effect of amplifying the expectation and anxiety of the audience. “The full comprehension of one’s stance at what is good or evil for themselves also provides a deeper insight into other perspectives. Understanding yourself is like climbing a mountain; once you reach the top or come near it, once you elevate above the fog which lays below, nearer to the ground, you begin to see other mountain tops and you become conscious and understanding to what others see and how they perceive. You also fully comprehend how misguided and lost the views of those below are, the ones who are lost in the shadows. It is a bitter feeling when you hear the people in the fog shout and scream how pointless and impossible it is to climb to the top and how little is gained from it. And somehow those voices are the loudest and they echo in the mountains and the valleys, rocking those who are climbing to the top.”
The look he offered the audience was chilling and everyone felt this has to be meant for them in particular. Most of the people didn’t return the gaze, they lowered their heads or closed their eyes, some were pretending not to hear, others busying themselves with trivia, trying to ignore the orator. But there was no avoiding, no escaping, no way of running away or ignoring the spoken word, for he had somehow hypnotized them into listening. The power of the speaker was intense, undeniable and unavoidable. You didn’t only listen, you heard.
The man was aware of every thought in the room, of all their sins and profound secrets, they told him all without a single word but just by being and he knew how to make them confront the one thing they never wanted to see.
“You may change your address, abandon your friends and family, run away from your dreams and ambitions, deny your past and your mistakes but there is absolutely no way of preventing these thoughts from surfacing in your conscious, because no matter how hard you suppress them, I will bring them to light… run all you want, I am always in step with you.”
Shivers were felt like a wave hitting each individual in the auditorium. This was understood like a clear threat, a call to arms and a clear shout of retreat, all at the same time. But there was no running, no way of escaping or ignoring. What now?
“Why do you fear me? Why do strive to ignore me, throw me, hit me, kill me and destroy me? Why are you so intent on killing…yourself?”
He kneeled down and spoke more softly: “I am not here to hurt you; my mission is to elevate you above the animal which resides in you, above the everyday, the mundane and trivial. You were given a gift of consciousness, the universes way of helping you realize the immense beauty which lies all around you and within you, yet you so clearly want it gone and dead. It is clear just by looking down any street. All which is seen is the celebration and promotion of the animalistic, that which is holding you down and dragging you back into the nothingness. I know your history… it is filled with two examples; one accepting only the white, only the pure and “holy” and thus denying the flesh, preventing you from comprehending the world in its entirety. The other side is the world today, only in the black, the view of the animal; sex, drugs and rock n’ roll. In this world the soul inside you is robbed of its beauty by denying its existence. No extreme will help you climb to the top. The key is balance.”
He stood back upright and continued: “I am here to help. The harder you try to push me away, the harder I will push back. Or in your terms – Newton’s Third Law of Motion: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. The realization of this will affect your motion, you either continue running in a circle, which over time will gain momentum and drive you to your own demise, or you start climbing to the top of your mountain, to the utmost potential which is you.”
He stopped for five seconds and then loudly proclaimed: “BEWARE OF FALSE PROPHETS! They come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly they are ravening wolves. Many among you are sure that you know precisely what I am talking about and many of you are quick to teach the lessons which you have not even begun to learn. There are many among you who would trade wisdom for dimes and there is a special treatment which will be imposed on those of you who deceive… it will be imposed by me. Hell is on earth and it will be me who shall make sure you feel it. You lead none but yourself, you follow no one but your mind, soul and heart, they are your only true teachers and whoever comes along proclaiming their divinity and higher understanding than yours, say to them: I will not let a blind man lead me. I seek salvation, not oblivion. I seek truth, not lies.”
The auditorium was dead silent and even those pretending to ignore before were now transfixed into starring at this black and white man. We sense truth when it is spoken, read or observed and this was undeniable. The message was as clear as day and the man knew it. He continued:
“I can be your best friend or your worst enemy and it is a decision made by you and you alone. My mission is clear; to make you in the image of the gods you worship. You can be made as such, but you have to want it. If you stray off the route and begin deceiving, lying, cheating, denying, killing, harming, wounding or betraying, it will be me who will shove you back onto the right road. In this, you have no choice. You will not escape yourself, the harder you bite, the more you yourself will feel the bite. Remember, even when I bite back, it is for your own good.”
He looked down and observed the wooden floor beneath him: “There is a bigger picture behind this, the one you won’t see in this version because you are limited by your senses. There is something so much bigger happening than what you can observe or comprehend and it is in no way meant for you to grasp it and understand it… even if you saw the picture behind, it would mean nothing to you because you just wouldn't understand it. You know what you are here to do… you are here to climb that mountain.”
He started retreating back, walking to the back of the stage to go behind the curtain. He was followed by no applause, not one sound; no one could make a noise even if they wanted to. But just before he disappeared behind the scenes, he turned back and whispered; a whisper which echoed and was heard clearer than a scream: “I am you.”
Woodsmen Day ( Poem)
Sport using handsaws
With a toothed edge blade
One or two handed sawing
On a woodsmen fair day
Traditional log rolling
Is a lumberjacks technique
Style used in river driving
The illustration is unique
Springboard tree is branchless
With live action you can’t beat
Platform board is dangerous
A risk if you compete
Block ax chopping
Is a loggers sport indeed
Hard on your back swinging
Be careful of your feet
Woodsmen day activities
Is part of the fair you see
I bring it all to my channel
Cause that’s the place to be
By: Doris Anne Beaulieu
At : https://www.youtube.com/user/Viewwithme2
