It was just too cold to work today. Not that its too cold outside, it’s the stupid AC. Anyhow…that is my excuse to procrastinate today. Started with web galleries and ended up reading about stuff in the Wiki. Guess everybody has a thing and mine happens to be written words. Anyhow…in between stories in the Wiki, I visited a couple of web galleries. I got kinda hooked to this one. Seems like a lot is going on in these paintings…like there are clues and they all tell a story. Didn’t really get what they all meant…but still…liked them somehow. Just wanted to bookmark the link here.
“So much struggle for meaning, for purpose…and in the end we only find it in each other…our shared experience of the fantastic…and the mundane…the simple human need to find a kindred, to connect…and to know in our hearts that we are not alone.”
The show is a lot like the other freak shows on TV. Its got all the soapy stuff going on…gets on the nerves at times. But it sure says a truth or two that we need to hear. Definitely better than Supernatural. Liked the way they ended season one.
Didn't come to work yesterday. I wanted to, honest to God. Cann't really come if you wake up and find its 3:20 in the afternoon. Can you? I have got to get my act together one of these days.
That’s Samurai Jack, my new hero. He is an old fashioned one. The type that can do no wrong. We could use more like him these days.
Jack is a lone warrior trapped in a futuristic world ruled by the evil, shape shifting monster named Aku, fighting a seemingly lost cause. But however desparate the situation may be, Jack never forgets his code – the honor code of the Samurai. Forever humble, polite and honest he makes his way through the horrid, alien landscpae, never giving his personal welbeing a second thought. He is constantly going out of his way to help others, risking his neck even for the ones who’ve done him wrong, never asking for anything in return. He endures everything – all the trechery, cruely, brute force, fear and madness thrown on his way. He brushes them all off and continues his journey. And in doing so, he brings back hope in the minds of the millions who till now, had taken the all the wrongs for granted.
The mad world shown in the cartoon is not alien at all, its exactly like the one we live in today. The people in it are just as mad, just as miserable and just as hopeless as the mindless robots in the cartoon. Just that in our world, we don’t always recognize the faces of the shape shifting monster that’s running the show and the unsung heroes who are giving their lives fighting the good battle.
We desperately need heroes like Jack…even if just in cartoons and story books.
Forgive me shower for I have been dirty. It has been nearly a week since my last visit. But you must know it wasn’t entirely my fault; I did call on you a couple of times but you were unavailable.
Please don’t get me wrong; I don’t blame you. With the tornado out on a killing spree and the blackout you could only do so much. I know you are trying your best. Besides, you came around soon enough with your generous blessing of running water and there is really no excuse for not seeing you sooner. Please forgive me. You know how easily I get tempted, develop the habit, what can I say,…keeping up the routine seems such a great deal of work…you know.
I am sorry I will stop with the lame excuses. Truth is, I would probably not come and see you even tonight if it weren’t for those damned kids. Yes, I could have easily gone through another day, in those rags, smelling that bad. (Yeah, I know, I am such a pig!) But it was not to be. Imran came and dragged us out into playground to play badminton. Its been a very long time since I played the game you know…(ok, so I wasn’t any good when I played it…big deal!). So the kids kind of caught us off balance you see…(and not like they were really kids…one looked pretty big…I’m sure he is at least 13!)
Anyhow…so they gave us a pretty good beating. But, they really didn’t have to be so mean about it, you know…I mean, I wouldn’t mind if they just made us run around the court from end to end chasing after the damned cork (slippery bastard!)…I could take that, but did they really have to make us roll on the ground like that? I mean, it was one of my best jeans and now it’s got mud all over it, and your friend the good Mr. Washing Machine will have a rough time working on it.
And it’s all their fault! Those damned 12 year olds!
“Say, cats and dogs really like it when you scratch their neck. Don’t they?” “So does cows.” “Yeah? What about goats?” “I don’t know about goats.” “So how are you so sure about cows?” “You know, when you try to milk them, they’d make a fuss, but if you give her a neck scratch she’d stand still. So I figure they like it.” “So, cows are touchy when people try to touch their breasts, eh? How about that!” “Well, of course they are. People are not her bull.” “But bulls don’t really care about breasts. Do they? Say, none of the animals really care about breasts. It’s a man thing! Isn’t it?”
“Hmm…” “Well….but why?” “Well…I dunno…they look good…” “Yeah! But why?” “Well…they feel good” “I know! But why??” “Heck! I don’t care! If it bothers you so much go find a flat chested chick and marry her.” “I never said they bother me. I like ‘em too. But why?” “Who the hell cares?” “What are you saying man! If we stopped asking ‘why’ we’d still be living in caves you know. Nope! We’ve got to figure this out.” “Well…may be it’s because you can…you know…fondle them” “Huh?” “You know…they are soft and you can with them and all.” “Nope! That doesn’t make sense. Fat people are soft all over. If grabbing was the thing then everybody would be running after the fat chicks.” “Well…I just dunno…”
We discussed the issue a li’l more over coffee but weren’t able to come to a satisfactory conclusion. So we decided to take it up with Proton, the cleverest one in the family. He heard us out and the first thing he says to me – “Tell me now, what exactly did you guys see on the way that made you think about it? Paint me a picture. Will ya?” (Told you he is clever.)
Anyway, he went on about how animals look for fitness, physical symmetry and proportions in potential mates but the issue wasn’t really resolved. (Surely, we can hardly call voluptuous women the most fit, or the most proportionate and still, they do have a universal appeal.) I guess I will just put it on my list of unsolved mysterious -
Why does the chicken cross the road? Which came first, the egg or the hen? How does a pair of round things drive a sane man mad so easily?
[Sidr made its way from the coasts to the capital killing about two thousand people on its way. The whole country blckedout during the weekends. I wrote this in candle light,…not because I had something good to write about or something that mattered. Been writing all sorts of messed things lately. Pages fter pages of crap that just wont come together. Still, I just have to put this one down or it feels my head will explode.]
What do you think of poetry? Why is it that poetry, in general, is considered impractical? People say that they discard all logic and sense and just aren’t real enough. Poets are seen as outcasts, a damaged lot trying to escape the realities of life and seeking refuge in make belief. As for the stuff they write, well,…they do score a few points every now and then within certain circles and drunken society parties but that’s as far as they are supposed to go.
I guess its not entirely their fault. ‘Poets’ do seem rather eager to assert their eccentricity. They will take great pains to get the walk, the talk, the dress and the hair right. (Now it’d be pretty awful if they are taken for commonors. Woudn’t it?) They are a delicate sort, unlike the rest and it has to show. Guess, poets are people too; they gotta eat, shit and procreate like the rest of ‘em. So, its quite natural that there will be many who’d just want to put on the uniform, strike up a few lines, wrap ‘em all nice in glossy plastic and try to sell them for more than they are worth, while they still can.
“All the esoteric philosophy of the Oriental countries, when confronted with real life, turned out to be a by-product of the anxiety, neurosis, confusion, and opportunism of the West; that is, of the crisis in the guiding principles of capitalism. In the India of those years there was little room for deep contemplation of one’s navel. ‘An existence that made brutal physical demands, a colonial position based on the most cold-blooded degradation, thousands dying every year of cholera, smallpox, fever, and hunger, a feudal society thrown into chaos by India’s immense population and industrial poverty, stamped such great ferocity on life that all semblance of mysticism disappeared.”
“…the majority exploited a cheap market where exotic amulets and fetishes wrapped in metaphysical sales talk were sold wholesale. These people were always spouting Dharma and Yoga. They reveled in religious acrobatics, all empty show and high sounding words.” [p 84]
“…Became familiar with opium…” “…I smoked many pipefuls, until I knew…” “…I understood why hired hands from plantations, day laborers, richshowmen who pull and pull rickshaw all day long, would lay there dazed, motionless. . . Opium was not, as painted to me, the paradise of the exotic, but an escape for the exploited…” [p 88]
- These words reflect the clarity of thoughts of a great mind, a sound mind that isn’t deceived by the smoke screens of half truths and lies.
Poetry is not about dwelling in madness and spitting out empty words that nobody gets. Even after a hundred years, every word on Tagore’s poems makes perfect sense. True ones can keep it real; they don’t bank on confusion.
There is no real conflict between poetry and facts, there never was. In fact, if one pays attention, they just might help him understand the numbers better. May be one day we’ll finally figure it and then the advancement of science will not be driven by the arms race anymore.
In any case, I wouldn’t worry too much. Poetry will survive amidst all the madness and chaos…It is the one thing that can. Poetry will keep the truth alive if the great cities go up in flames and smokes blacken the skies. Poetry will be the beacon, lighting the way for the children rising from the ashes of the dead worlds,..will tell them stories…of what it once was, and what it could be…again…
Aye! Mankind will live on…and so shall its poetry. For every human child is born with it, and secretly carries it in his heart.
Nowal keeps on complaining that my blog is too depressing. Well…I’d like to take this opportunity to dedicate this movie (yeah! I know I did not produce/direct it, BIG DEAL!) to Nowal and Syed, (popularly known as her better 0.5).
Hope the two of them will cuddle up into a couch one of these days, watch the damn movie and use up a year’s supply of tissue paper. :-)
Father: Every now and then, a person comes along, has a different view of the world than does the usual person. It doesn't make them crazy. I mean... an acute perception, man... that doesn't, that doesn't make you crazy.
Rusty James: Could you talk normal?
Father: However sometimes... it can drive you crazy, acute perception.
Rusty James:I wish you'd talk normal 'cause I don't understand half the garbage you're saying. You know? You know what I mean?
Father: No, your mother... is not crazy. And neither, contrary to popular belief, is your brother crazy. He's merely miscast in a play. He was born in the wrong era, on the wrong side of the river... with the ability to be able to do anything that he wants to do and findin' nothin' that he wants to do. I mean nothing.
Patterson the Cop: What's the big interest in the pet store all of a sudden?
Mr. Dobson: They've been hanging around here.
The Motorcycle Boy: Take a look at the fish.
Patterson the Cop: You're crazy. You're really crazy. And, you know, I've known all about it all along.
The Motorcycle Boy: But they belong in the river. [guesturing at the fish]
The Motorcycle Boy: I don't think they would fight if they were in the river. If they had room to live.
Patterson the Cop: Someone ought to get you off the streets.
The Motorcycle Boy: Somebody ought to put the fish in the river. [starts chuckling to himself]
My life has been like the poems (?) that I write, - “Lost in Introduction” (and a long and tiresome at that) dwelling back and forth aimlessly between obligatory emptiness and superfluous ‘eloquence’, never getting down to that one true line that’d write the rest of the story in impeccable words, meaningful, real words, words that you can touch and let touch you back.
Mediocrity is such a curse.
The story is never told. The book ends with the prologue. The song ends with the intro. Love ends with no promise.
The journey ends with the thought, the ship never sails, The day ends at dawn, on the bed of nails. The story loops in circles with the same vague conclusion – “Almost.”
[good thing I wrote this on a toilet paper. Wasn’t a total loss. For what its worth, I meant every word.]
You ask me if I’ve ever seen it - love of a true kind, The kind we all read about, but could never really find. I tell you I haven’t seen it. But wouldn’t mind if I do. Call me crazy but I’ve got a feeling, You wouldn’t mind much too.
You say that it don’t exist. You say it cannot be. But all the time you long for it, And you want it all for free. You keep on taking as it comes. Then you take some more, And when you are asked to give a li'l, You’ll believe in it no more.
Aint nobody gonna clip my wings Aint nobody gonna take my space Aint nobody gonna slow me down Aint nobody gonna cost me a race.
Then you’d bitch about how they all done you wrong, and love walked out the door.
You want it to be ‘perfect’, - ‘Perfect’ as in easy. Like things’d just happen right, life will just be breezy. You want to cash in on the divine lottery one time and bank on it for life. Ridiculous. Don’t you think?
Here’s a thought -
Nature may give you crops but a farmer's still gotta work the fields. Eyes may show you the colors but the artist must toil to bring ‘em together on a masterpiece The mind may know a million words but you gotta put in a pice of you soul to weave a good poem. What makes you think love will be cheaper?
If only you’d open your heart as easily as you spread your thighs…
For quite a few years now, I’ve been feeling that I’m getting dumber; the brain is slowing down with each passing month and its taking longer to do math, all sorts of math. The other night I was thinking the same thing and since I wasn’t feeling up to doing anything else, decided to work the head a little by trying a few multiplications in the head. Did just one – 5333 by 13. Took me about 3 minutes but I got it correct. Guess doing it on paper would have taken less time. Anyhow, I was happy just to be able to do it.
I thought about the stupid Number 23 movie and started doing all sorts of funny calculations with my name, date of birth and stuff about people I know or used to know. Instead of 23, I started seeing 777 everywhere and got kinda carried away. I saw it even in places it didn’t need to be and tried to figure out how it related to other things around it and all – that’s how obsessed I became with the silly thing. It wasn’t until 5 in the morning that I realized that I was dead tired, had to wake up in two hours and had a long day ahead of me.
Anjan was devastated when Proton got hitched. The idea of a younger one getting ahead was just too much for him. He was practically begging the senior citizens (a.k.a family elders) to end his miseries ASAP since then. Well…he’s finally got his wish.
We drove down to the village on Friday morning to attend his ‘engagement’. Once we got there we figured we might as well make it a full-fledged wedding. I for one was all for it. Even if it was a bit hasty, it didn’t turn out to be such a bad show in the end.
On our way
Almost there
Abid agreed to shave
The girls are ready
The boys aren't
The last smoke
Tensed. Isn't he?
Errmm…guess its too late to turn back?
The ‘blushing’ groom
The lovely bride
For better or for worse
With the ‘senior citizens’
The shopping list
But its all right
“So how many times do you think they had…‘coffee’ last night? ;)”
“Hey, how about some coffee?”
Cute li’l bugger! Aint he?
Bloopers
1. “Damn this toothpaste tastes funny!...The label looks familier…something is wrong though…what is it?...Oh! Got it! Its shaving cream!”
2. “Hey, wake up! We’re leaving.” “Oh hey…did I fall asleep again? Okay lets go.” “Don’t forget to say good bye to the new bride” “Of course I wont! Okay…hey there! We’re going. Wish you two the best! Come visit when you have time, etc. etc….heck…something is not right here…oh yeah! She isn’t this one. It’s the one next to her. Oh well…I have to go. Byee!” [+/-] show/hide this post
I have finally finished reading the book. I don’t think I can describe what I took from it. Instead, I’ll just quote some bits from the last chapter.
“Like archeologists digging down through layers, we have found under the superficial history of the early seventeenth century, just before the outbreak of the Thirty Years War, a whole culture, a whole civilization, lost to view.” (p. 290)
“The Rosicrucian Enlightenment included a vision of the necessity for a reform of society, particularly of education, for a third reformation of religion, embracing all sides of man’s activity – and saw this as a necessary accompaniment of the new science. Rosicrucian thinkers were aware of the dangers of the new science, of its diabolical as well as angelic possibilities, and they saw that its arrival should be accompanied by a general reformation of the whole wide world.” (p. 290)
“The Rosicrucian alchemy expresses both the scientific outlook, penetrating into new worlds of discovery, and also an attitude of religious expectation, of penetrating into new fields of religious experiences.” (p. 284)
“The religious outlook bound up with the idea that penetration has been made into higher angelic spheres is which all religions were seen as one” (p. 282)
“And this illumination shines inwards as well as outward; it is an inward spiritual illumination revealing to men new possibilities in himself, teaching him to understand his own dignity and worth and the part he is called upon to play in the divine scheme.” (p. 291)
“Those who seek above all a regeneration of spiritual life are naturally drawn towards the doctrines which lay the main stress on the idea of life and propose a vitalistic conception of the universe. And the symbolism of alchemy is as apt for translating (into symbolic form) the realities of the religious life, as that of matter and form. Perhaps more apt, because less used up, less intellectualized, more symbolic through its very nature.” (A. Koyrè, La philophie de Jacob Boehme, Paris, 1929, p. 45)”
“Teach me, my God and King, In all things thee to see; And what I do in anything To do it as for thee!
A man that looks on glass, On it may stay his eye Or if he pleaseth, through it pass, And then the heaven espy.
All may of thee partake; Nothing can be so mean, Which with this tincture, ‘for thy sake’. Will not grow bright and clean.
A servant with this clause Makes drudgery divine; Who sweeps a room, as for thy laws, Makes that and the action fine
This is the famous stone That turneth all to gold; For that which God doth tough and own Cannot for less be told.
So sang George Herbert of his Christian religious experiences, and it was such spiritual gold as this that the German Rosicrucian movement sought.” (p. 283, 284)
“Circumstances prevented its application, and after the Rosicrucian, science was allowed to develop in isolation from utopia, and apart from the idea of a reformed society, educated to receive it. The comparative disregard if the social and educational possibilities of the movement was surely unfortunate for the future.” (p. 292)
"What hath put the present Age into so great confusion is the cruel hatred, and spiteful envie which in these days in seen to reign generally amongst men. All help then for these present evils, is to be hoped for from infusing Charity, reciprocal affection, and that sanctified love of our neighbor, which is God’s chiefest commandment, into mankind; we out therefore to employ all our skill in taking away the occasions of those hatreds, which in these days reign in men’s hearts."
Apollo, the archer-god of medicine and healing, light and truth, found the world in a terrible state, and decided to seek the council of wise men to remedy the situation. It was evident that a ‘deep general reformation’ was necessary and the council discussed the subject at length. A lot of proposals were put forth but all, in the end, were considered impractical. As time passed, the council got distracted with trivialities and finally, the idea of general reformation was given up altogether and things remained “as wretched as ever”.
All attempts at reformation failed because they “had produced only rigorous regulations and had not tackled the deep issues”. According to Solon, the wisest of men, “what was mainly wrong with the age was lovelessness.”
Pity. May be the world we live in now wouldn’t be as messed up if the ancient Gods and wise folks could come up with something then. Well…I guess we’ll have to deal with it now, at this age. Who knows, may be there is time to leave behind a different kind of myth for the kids of the future? May be one in which we do fix things up? Time will tell.
"There is life here. anyone reading this is breathing, maybe hurting, but breathing for sure. and if there is any light to come, it will shine from the eyes of those who look for peace and justice after the rubble and rhetoric are cleared and the phoenix has risen.
Affirm life. Affirm life. We got to carry each other now. You are either with life, or against it. Affirm life."
I wanted to show Abid, my bro, the videos I found today. My bro doesn’t care much about poetry but he stayed up till 4 am in the morning downloading all the Suheir Hammad videos he could. (We got a shitty line at home, not as fast as the one I got at work.) And we watched them over and over and over again. We are still watching them. I know I linked this one just 2 posts back, but I just wanted it to keep it on top here, on full view. The shift to Dave’s stand up comedy down there was probably too hasty.
At work. Spent the last 40 minutes trying to draw a mutant crab. Why?
Wanted to blog about all sorts of things. Thought about wring about the things I’ve been reading…wanted to write about Bruno who they burnt at the stakes on February 17, 1600. Thought about writing an ode to the ‘wicked fools’. Felt too tired to do any of that and went to bed early.
Met a couple of school friends who I haven’t seen in a long time. We hung for a while, literally, from a 10 feet tall grill which, it seems, was being used as a road divider. It was pretty relaxing up there, oddly enough. We had a lot of catching up to do; talked about old times and stuff. Was wondering if it’d be appropriate to ask him how the sex was between him and his wife now that she’s had a kid. He kinda guessed and said, “Man! You musta really gotten old! You never had any trouble saying things you shouldn’t before…” Then we were at his old place where we used to hang all the time back in school. As we were coming back, an aunty, mother of another school friend, materialized from out of nowhere and asked me why I don’t study at all these days. My friend told her, - “Aunty, he never did much of that. Did he?” And she says, “well, I guess he is doing okay, considering…”. “And he paid his taxes too!” – my friend added.
Now comes the crab part. As we were getting out, my friends and a new guy I don’t know, grabbed a few cans of condensed milk from a van in the parking lot. They threw me a can but I didn’t want any. And then the milk guy came looking so they made a run for it, so, it was just me standing there with a couple of empty milk cans lying around. I tried to convince the milk guy that it wasn’t me (I even tried to make him smell my mouth to make a point…I think…), without any success. So I ran too.
It was dark and I was running up this mud hill with the milk guy on my tail. (The scene sort of had a Tim Burton anim feel) And then I see this big, pink, part crab, part spider, with huge praying mantis claws, climbing up his back and sitting on his head. I thought I’d tell him and that’d slow him down. Bad move. As he shook it off, it flew off and landed on me. Well, now you know why I woke up before the alarm went off.
P.S: I couldn’t draw the darn crab. The picture up there was made by Asif, my coworker. So, now not only am I wasting my own work time for my personal blog, but his as well. DO NOT TELL THE BOSS.
‘Alchemy’ is a word that’s been following me around for a while now. Think it started with The Alchemist, the Paulo Coelho best seller. Later, I ran into it a couple of times here and there before finding it again in The Rosicrucian Enlightenment by Frances Yates. The mysterious ‘politico-religious’ movement, originating in the early seventeenth century Europe, had roots in the ancient arts of Magia, Cabala and Alchemia and aspired to achieve a new world-view in which advancing sciences would strangely mingle with angelology to establish “a universal reign of mystic and philosophic harmony”. [1]
Needless to say, I’m visiting the WIKI a lot lately to look up all sorts of things the book talks about. (Posted an earlier entry on Cabala.) It seems ‘alchemy’ is not just about man men running after gold (although a lot of that had been going on); the allegories of achieving transmutation of metals and finding cure for all diseases hide a more profound spiritual philosophy. Think the following lines from Rumi’s poem describes it the best –
You are the master alchemist.
You light the fire of love in earth and sky in heart and soul of every being.
Through your loving existence and nonexistence merge. All opposites unite. All that is profane becomes sacred again.
After the third the bliss kicks in. The body floats, the mind at ease. One finally finds happiness In his chemically induced peace.
Nothing troubles me now.
The uncomfortable pillow, the lonely bed, The unending conflicts in the head And all that rubbish said, Written, heard and read, - They couldn’t have mattered less.
Nothing concerns me now.
The inadequacy of reasons, The colors of the seasons, The divine mysteries of God, Or the worldly desires and treasons - Couldn’t provoke any less indifference.
I suffer no grief; I seek no glory. I recall no myth; I remember no story. A pleasant void in memory, Uninterrupted by dreams.
Frid: Do you see little one? The summer night is smiling.
Petra: So you’re a poet too.
Frid: The summer night has three smiles. This is the first between midnight and dawn, when young lovers open their hearts and loins. Look there! On the horizon there is a smile so soft you have to be very quiet and watchful to see it at all.
Petra: Young lovers.
Frid: Did that move you, my little pet?
Petra: Why have I never been a young lover? Can you tell me that?
Frid: My dear girl…console yourself. There are few young lovers in this world. You could almost count them. Love has smitten them both as a gift and a punishment.
Petra: And the rest of us?
Frid: The rest of us. (chuckles)
Petra: What becomes of us?
Frid: We invoke love, call out to it, cry for it, beg for it, try to mimic it. We think we own it and tell lies about it.
Petra: But we don’t have it.
Frid: No, my sugar pie. We are denied the love of loving. We don’t have the gift.
Petra: Nor the punishment.
Frid: Nor the punishment.
Frid: Now follows the second smile of the summer night. For the jesters, the fools…and the incorrigible.
Petra: Then she must be smiling at us.
Frid: Would you like a beer?
Petra: Then she is smiling at us, I said!
Frid: Correct. She is smiling at us.
Petra: Do you want to marry me?
Frid: (Laughs out loud)
Petra: But an hour ago you said you wanted to!
Frid: That was then!
Petra: YOU WILL MARRY ME!
Frid: You’re a strong little sugar plum!
Petra: YOU WILL MARRY ME! YOU WILL, YOU WILL, YOU WILL!
Petra: And the summer night smiled for the third time!
Frid: Oh, yes, my sugar plum, for the sad and dejected, for the sleepless and the lost souls, for the frightened and the lonely.
Smiles of a Summer Night is a famous comedy by Bergman. The parts I enjoyed the most are the dialogues between the servants – Petra the maid and Frid the Groom (the folks on the poster). Spent a considerable amount of time at work trying to find the scripts (don’t tell the boss) but it seems they didn’t make the ‘Memorable Quotes’ list anywhere. I thought I’d go put them here anyway. Hope some of you will enjoy it as much as I did.
Bought a few books to suppress the urge to buy a fancy cell phone (which I have a finally decided to get anyway). Took up The Rosicrucian Enlightenment instead of the Memories of My Melancholy Whores which I have been meaning to read since forever. It’s a really good thing that the Wikipedia is there to help us idiots understand things a little better.
“The Tree of Life, or Etz haChayim (עץ החיים) in Hebrew, is a mystical symbol within the Kabbalah of esoteric Judaism used to understand the nature of God and the manner in which He created the world ex nihilo (out of nothing). The Kabbalists developed this concept into a full model of reality, using the tree to depict a "map" of Creation. The tree of life has been called the "cosmology" of the Kabbalah.
Some believe the Tree of Life of the Kabbalah corresponds to the Tree of Life mentioned in Genesis”
“But the Tree of Life does not only speak of the origins of the physical universe out of the unimaginable, but also of man's place in the universe. Since man is invested with Mind, consciousness in the Kabbalah he is thought of as the fruit of the physical world, through whom the original infinite energy can experience and express itself as a finite entity. After the energy of creation has condensed into matter it is thought to reverse its course back up the Tree until it is once again united with its true nature. Thus the kabbalists seeks to know himself and the universe as an expression of God, and to make the journey of Return by stages charted by the Sephiroth, until he has come to the realisation he sought.”
I’ve just finished watching Bobby, the movie on the assassination of Senator Robert F. Kennedy. The movie had been lying around in my room for weeks; I thought it would be just another political thriller. The only thing I knew about RFK is that he walked in the shadows of his famous elder brother for the most part and later met with the same tragic ending. The movie wouldn’t change that much if it hadn’t been for the actual footages and speeches, especially his speech on Mindless Menace Of Violence. I am pasting it below. This and his other speeches can be found at http://www.angelfire.com/pa4/kennedy/speech.html
City Club of Cleveland, Cleveland, Ohio April 5, 1968
Mr Chairmen, Ladies And Gentlemen,
This is a time of shame and sorrow. It is not a day for politics. I have saved this one opportunity, my only event of today, to speak briefly to you about the mindless menace of violence in America which again stains our land and every one of our lives.
It is not the concern of any one race. The victims of the violence are black and white, rich and poor, young and old, famous and unknown. They are, most important of all, human beings whom other human beings loved and needed. No one - no matter where he lives or what he does - can be certain who will suffer from some senseless act of bloodshed. And yet it goes on and on and on in this country of ours.
Why? What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created? No martyr's cause has ever been stilled by an assassin's bullet.
No wrongs have ever been righted by riots and civil disorders. A sniper is only a coward, not a hero; and an uncontrolled, uncontrollable mob is only the voice of madness, not the voice of reason.
Whenever any American's life is taken by another American unnecessarily - whether it is done in the name of the law or in the defiance of the law, by one man or a gang, in cold blood or in passion, in an attack of violence or in response to violence - whenever we tear at the fabric of the life which another man has painfully and clumsily woven for himself and his children, the whole nation is degraded.
"Among free men," said Abraham Lincoln, "there can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet; and those who take such appeal are sure to lost their cause and pay the costs."
Yet we seemingly tolerate a rising level of violence that ignores our common humanity and our claims to civilization alike. We calmly accept newspaper reports of civilian slaughter in far-off lands. We glorify killing on movie and television screens and call it entertainment. We make it easy for men of all shades of sanity to acquire whatever weapons and ammunition they desire.
Too often we honor swagger and bluster and wielders of force; too often we excuse those who are willing to build their own lives on the shattered dreams of others. Some Americans who preach non-violence abroad fail to practice it here at home. Some who accuse others of inciting riots have by their own conduct invited them. Some look for scapegoats, others look for conspiracies, but this much is clear: violence breeds violence, repression brings retaliation, and only a cleansing of our whole society can remove this sickness from our soul.
For there is another kind of violence, slower but just as deadly destructive as the shot or the bomb in the night. This is the violence of institutions; indifference and inaction and slow decay. This is the violence that afflicts the poor, that poisons relations between men because their skin has different colors. This is the slow destruction of a child by hunger, and schools without books and homes without heat in the winter.
This is the breaking of a man's spirit by denying him the chance to stand as a father and as a man among other men. And this too afflicts us all.
I have not come here to propose a set of specific remedies nor is there a single set. For a broad and adequate outline we know what must be done. When you teach a man to hate and fear his brother, when you teach that he is a lesser man because of his color or his beliefs or the policies he pursues, when you teach that those who differ from you threaten your freedom or your job or your family, then you also learn to confront others not as fellow citizens but as enemies, to be met not with cooperation but with conquest; to be subjugated and mastered.
We learn, at the last, to look at our brothers as aliens, men with whom we share a city, but not a community; men bound to us in common dwelling, but not in common effort. We learn to share only a common fear, only a common desire to retreat from each other, only a common impulse to meet disagreement with force. For all this, there are no final answers.
Yet we know what we must do. It is to achieve true justice among our fellow citizens. The question is not what programs we should seek to enact. The question is whether we can find in our own midst and in our own hearts that leadership of humane purpose that will recognize the terrible truths of our existence.
We must admit the vanity of our false distinctions among men and learn to find our own advancement in the search for the advancement of others. We must admit in ourselves that our own children's future cannot be built on the misfortunes of others. We must recognize that this short life can neither be ennobled or enriched by hatred or revenge.
Our lives on this planet are too short and the work to be done too great to let this spirit flourish any longer in our land. Of course we cannot vanquish it with a program, nor with a resolution.
But we can perhaps remember, if only for a time, that those who live with us are our brothers, that they share with us the same short moment of life; that they seek, as do we, nothing but the chance to live out their lives in purpose and in happiness, winning what satisfaction and fulfillment they can.
Surely, this bond of common faith, this bond of common goal, can begin to teach us something. Surely, we can learn, at least, to look at those around us as fellow men, and surely we can begin to work a little harder to bind up the wounds among us and to become in our own hearts brothers and countrymen once again.
[Found this in the trash. Might as well keep it since theres nothing better]
It is not your fault my dear. It is I who knock that door. Cant seem to resist – the world of make belief There I become what I hate. There I stay, I flip, I forget, That when the night’s run, everybody’s left Theres nothing there, not even regret.
It is not your fault my dear. You are not to blame. It is I who ask for madness, play that silly game. But what am I to do my dear? Must hide the tear Got no place else to go. It’s the ride down hills, gives me the chills, Must go down below.
You have left and so have they The rock, the river, the trees. They’ve driven off far and left me a car, But taken the car keys.
I know my dear, you don’t want me here For it cannot be. But I beg you dear, do sit near When I tell you I love thee. I’ll crawl back my dear, have no fear, To the hole that I belong. And there I’ll stay, day after day, Till they’ll play our song.
Came across an amazing picture by the ParkeHarrisons at Dorian Gray’s blog. Browsed a little to find more pictures by the artist couple. Here are some links –
“House is the best TV show ever!” “No beating Desperate House Wives” “Desperate House Wives eh?” “Yeah that’s what I said.” “kheks” “You got something in your mind?” “Oh not really…am just wondering…” “What??” “That’s a lot of estrogen” “What???” “You know…estrogen….chick hormone…theres must be a lot of that in your system” “Huh?” “One has to be at least half a chick to like that show” “So I’m a chick??” “lets just say you are very much in touch with your ‘feminine side’”
HAHAHA lets take a picture of this. HAHAHAHA …you guys crack us up! Lets have another round. Cheers!
“Whats wrong with the show?” "Nothing is very well made” “Then what are you babbling on about?” “You wouldn’t get it” “No, no, do tell me….Mr Sooo Masculine, enlighten me.” “Kheks. Chill…I just don’t like the show and I wanted to put one over you. Let it go.” “No, tell me, what makes you such a MAN?”
Hey guys, guys, cut it out! What the hell are you doing?? Lets just enjoy the drink!
“How about we walk out of here and I smash your head? Would you get it then?” “You smash my head?? OOO! I'm soo scared!” “That’s right. I smash yours. You are the bigger one, I get it. But I probably had more practice.” [stands up and walks out] “Yeah walkout dumb ass. What else can you do?"
What the hell guys! Shut up already! Go get him.
“okay…I’m shutting up.” “Yeah! Shhhhh!” “Did you just shush me??” “Shhhh” “YOU DIDN’T FUCKIN SHUSH ME. DID YOU?? CAUSE IF YOU DID THAT THAT’D B BAD! REAL BAD” “I wasn’t talking to you” “I DON’T FUCKN CARE WHO YOU WERE TALKING TO YOU. YOU CAN NOT FUCKN SHUSH ME! IF SOMEBODY CAN SHUSH ME THAT SOMEBODY AINT FUCKN YOU! YOU GET IT? DO YOU GET IT ASSHOLE?”
THE HELL WITH YOU GUYS! SHUT THE FUCK UP! WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?? YOU GO AT IT LIKE THIS…I’M GOING THROUH A DEVORCE…I’M STILL SMILING…AND I DON’T SHOW YOU ANY OF IT…ANY OF WHAT I’M GOING THROUGH….
YOU PUT ON A SHOW LIKE THAT…OVER SILLY SILLY THINGS…YOU GOT ANY IDEA WHAT REAL PROBLEMS ARE LIKE??? YOU ARE THE ONLY FRIENDS I’VE GOT …WHY CANT YOU JUST GET ALONG??
Life is starting to feel like a badly made TV show. Only trouble is…the shit in it is a bit too real and you cant switch channels if you don’t like the way they play out.
Watched the red tail light of Masum’s bike go out the gate and disappear around the bend. The last time I will ever see it. Gonna miss that damned ride, if not the son of a bitch that drove it. Reality check - “Was he the last one?”
Shahed in New York Romel in London Rudra in Melbourne Locha in Toronto Masum left for Melbourne today.
Where was I? Was busy with work but that’s not it. Been attending society parties and drinking a bit but that’s not it either.
Whats been happening the last couple of weeks? Been out of town. Visited two dying grannies. (One died last Wednesday) A cousin had a baby. (Good-looking baby boy. Ma, Pa and the baby are all doing well) Noticed that my uncles and their wives don’t look middle aged anymore. (They look ‘old’) Noticed that li’l cousins have grown bigger. Turned 28. (Cousins found a gray hair)
Even with the electricity, the village still goes to sleep pretty early. Went for a walk along the highway at 2 am at night, hoping to find a tea stall open. Got jumped by some stuff I didn’t want to think about. Thought about all that stuff I thought I got figured out and how they seem to fit everything; life, love, God and the rest. Then thought about the 7 year old kid that died on that very highway some 10-15 years back. They’d just made the road; a real nice job too. The kid was tired on his way back from a fair and decided to use the side for a pillow. Wasn’t really the driver’s fault but he still paid the family 7k for their loss. Everybody cried a lot but they also appreciated the new CI sheet roof above their heads. Then I got back to thinking about the stuff that I thought I had figured and found out I had absolutely no idea what they were. I figured I should give ‘em a rest and just concentrate on not walking into the crap, muddy puddles and heavy vehicles on the way. Guess that’s the thing to do.
No matter how well you figure something out after a while you start doubting everything. You don’t bet on the voices in your head, the screams in your heart or whispers in the air, you only bet on numbers – figures and facts that you can see and touch and count. You start wondering if your made all that up – the signs, the Gods, the magic. May be the universe is just playing out the numbers and that’s that.
I thought I hit one of those spells when I don’t really feel anything. I’ve been feeling things all right and they’ve been scaring the shit out of me. So much so I woke up screaming in that morning. The numbers are catching up.
Doing the zombie walk again. Going to the office in the morning, coming back at night, going to society thingies on the weekend and sleeping away all the private time watching Scrubs. Think they aren’t as fun as they used to be but heck, they keep you hooked till 3 am in the morn and after that you feel pretty exhausted to think, feel or dream about anything else. That’s right. I decided to give myself a break and not think about anything for a change. Don’t really care what I’m trying to hide from.
Anyhow, things aren’t as depressing as the above paragraph make ‘em sound. The other day the boys and I came home around 11 and found Imran’s motor bike sitting there all alone in front of the stairs. The bike was locked of course but that’s just an insignificant detail that we chose to ignore. I guess Imran wheeled his bike in again easily enough. A lot easier than carrying it outside for sure. Still, think about parking your bike, locking it, going away for just 10 minutes and then when you come back its not there anymore and then you find it parked on the street outside the gate. You’d probably be very surprised, then you’d try to find out if the lock was broken, then you’d get all confused and try to remember where you had parked it in the first place. May be for a second you’d make yourself believe that that’s where you parked it when you came in cause you were in such a rush but wait a minute, YOU NEVER PARK IT ON THE ROAD! You’d probably look around a little, but there is nobody around. Spookeey!!!
[Ladies and gentleman you’d be glad to hear it said (that) There are two kinds of men – the living and the wed]
~ folk wisdom
The guy I grew up with died (got hitched) this weekend. The smartest, most decent kid in the bunch. He is the silent type; you’ve got to know him well to know how witty he is. Wish I could be more like him. Gonna miss him a lot.
Proton and Rini
“Hey! Aren’t you the older one?” “Errmm…yep!” “Hmm…well…hang in there. You’ll find someone [sympathetic tone]”
How many times did the above conversation take place? Lost count after the second millionth time. (Sheesh! Like loosing a brother wasn’t bad enough!)
Had to take it out on somebody. Bad thing about being the elder brother in a wedding is that you have to act your age; can’t pull anything silly. Or can you? ;)
The Plan
The hit [message reads: Shala (brother in law) No. 1 - I feel so pretty :$]
Was supposed to blog about Pan’s Labyrinth. Couldn’t get into it. Saw Nowal’s Natural Hight list and thought about making my own.
1. Good breakfast, tea and the first smoke – doesn’t happen too often 2. Solving a puzzle you’ve been going at for a while – So I’m a geek. You are reading blogs yourself :p 3. The wet wind on your face 4. Dark clouds looming on the horizon 5. The Rain 6. Water 7. Splashing into the water 8. Swimming 9. Watching her eyes getting drunk 10 Kisses! 11. Feel her breathing getting heavier as you kiss 12. Her head on your chest 13. When she tells you she loves you – yes even when you know she is lying 14. Dipping you nose in her hair – easy to lose yourself in there...sighh 15. Talking with dead poets 16. Talking to God – he’s more available than you think 17. Reading fairy tales – yes they are all true 18. Good jokes – miss the ones with ZB, RB and BB 19. Good fights – been a while 20. Being sincere 21. Books that slap you hard, give you a good shake, leave you breathless, transport you to another time and place or just make you laugh your ass off 22. Running out of smokes in the middle of the night and then finding a couple in an old pack 23. Making a difficult shot and knowing you can make 10 more like that 24. Reading old letters 25. Reading old journal entries 26. Right song at the right moment 27. Doing a good one and resisting the temptation to bank on it 28. The pen writing by itself 29. Good talks – managing to cut the crap and say it right 30. Good food - burrrp!! 31. Getting to know a beautiful mind 32. Van Gogh’s paintings – Road with Cypresses and Star 33. Blackouts on moonlight nights 34. Family get togethers – with all 14 kids 35. Movies that leave you spell bound for the rest of the night 36. Watching animals 37. Saying “don’t give a fuck” - and meaning it too
This is ridiculous! The list will go on and on and on! And to think we are always complain life doesn't throw enough good stuff on our way!
It rained all day today. Started out for work (late as usual) and then I couldn’t get a taxi cause the roads were all flooded. Wasn’t too sad about it. Came home and didn’t know what to do. Went online for a bit, wrote a li’l rhyme for a kitty kat and then watched the rain. When it simmered down a little the crows were all over the place trying to regroup or whatever. Looked like they had a rough ride. Watched two baby crows on the sunset for a bit. (Lookes just like other crows only smaller :p) Poor things were all messed up. Guess they didn’t find the rain very romantic.
Went out in the evening with some friends and got all wet on the way back. It was a good shower. Its amazing how much you can still enjoy it if you can forget about the wallet, cell phone, flash drive and cegerettes in your pocket. It was a good walk.
On the way back, decided to ‘cry in the rain’ a li’l. Did all sorts - the baby wail, the girlie whine, the teenage sob, the heartbreak whimper, the oldie weep, the godfather howl, all of it! Was quite a performance I must say; spooked a lot many passers by along the way. Had a lot of laughs.
Speaking of laughs, I remember we had some during the showers last year as well. We had to go to a clinic to pick up somebody’s medical report. By the time we got there we were soaking wet. Walked up to the information desk with water dripping from my hair, nose, cloths, everywhere. My shoes made a squishing noise at every step and I left a trail of water on my way. Long story short, I was all wet and it was rather obvious what happenned to me. I asked the young lady at the desk about the reports I went for. The receiptionist took a good look at me, put on a sweet sweet smile and asked, - “Is it raining outside?”
“No! I just went for a dip in the lake on my way up here.” What else could you say anyway?
As I was goin' over the Cork and Kerry mountains I saw Captain Farrell and his money he was countin' I first produced my pistol and then produced my rapier I said stand and deliver or the devil he may take ya
Musha ring dum a doo dum a da Whack for my daddy-o Whack for my daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar-o
I took all of his money and it was a pretty penny I took all of his money and I brought it home to Molly She swore that she'd love me, never would she leave me But the devil take that woman for you know she treat me easy
Musha ring dum a doo dum a da Whack for my daddy-o Whack for my daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar-o
Being drunk and weary I went to Molly's chamber Takin' my money with me and I never knew the danger For about six or maybe seven in walked Captain Farrell I jumped up, fired off my pistols and I shot him with both barrels
Musha ring dum a doo dum a da Whack for my daddy-o Whack for my daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar-o
Now some men like the fishin' and some men like the fowlin' And some men like ta hear a cannon ball a roarin' Me I like sleepin' specially in my Molly's chamber But here I am in prison, here I am with a ball and chain yeah
Musha ring dum a doo dum a da Whack for my daddy-o Whack for my daddy-o There's whiskey in the jar-o
Monday morning. Was up all night watching movies. At 5 am went to the bus depot to pick up ma’s fruit basket. Found it easily enough. Brought it home and then threw half the stuff in the trash can. At 6 went out again for breakfast. The sky was dark, cloudy and dreamy. The wind was wet and felt good on the skin. The storm caught up when we were half way down. The road was swamped with paper, paper bags, leaves and leaflets. They were flying around everywhere, dancing about with the wind, whirling mad. It was like dusk, only better. The mad citizens weren’t crowding the streets. No obnoxious noises of silly giggles, macho bullshit or disco cars. The trees looked greener, the sky was a dark blue gray. And against them picture the red Krishnochura’s dancing down on the street, creating a flowery red carpet. Felt like jumping about, felt fantastic. Started telling my bro how lovely I thought everything was. Figured soon enough that my talk was spoiling the moment and shut up.
By the time we reached the restaurant it was raining mad. They still hadn’t opened so we waited in the landing smoking. Loved everything I set my eyes on. The occasional rickshows (even with their ugly banglalink curtains), the green vegetable van, the morning walker in white sweat shirt, the lady with the up side down umbrella, the blush that followed the incident and the subsequent good humored smile.
I wondered about all the things I’d seen in those couple of hours and thought if I’d be able to write about them. Like, painting a picture that’d show ‘em all. I knew that I couldn’t. But it didn’t get me down at all. Was happy to be back home, under a roof, watching the rain outside, smoking the last one in the pack, feeling the eyelids getting heavy. Slept like a baby after a long time.
It was hot. The electricity went out to make us more ‘comfy’. A baby in the next building started crying. Sounded a lot like a wailing cat. I joined in without thinking. Guess the baby got quite a shock and stopped crying. May be it’s a good thing. Or may be it’d be a bad memory s/he will carry around forever. Sorry li’l fella. Dint mean to be a prick. Don’t take it to heart. Gonna meet a lot many insentive morons like these in the years to come.
Feels just like those days A good 10 years back, Smoked a hell lot less back then Much less than a pack.
The world’d seem so big. Had lotsa holes to dig. All those years ago When I wasn’t such a pig.
As I was saying It was a long time ago. Then may be not that long Just 10 years back or so…
Had just given up a shell, Was coming back from hell, Brought some stories back Was damned eager to sell.
A crazy time it was, Many years ago, They’d hand me a colored glass Every place I’d go.
Everybody was there Except for the muse. May be she was there too, I was just too damned confused.
Some’d beck and call. “Lets dance!” – they'd say. “Heck, you do it on your own.” “I aint gonna play”.
They’d telll me to go ‘n fake it, To claim what isnt mine, I’d tell ‘em to go fuck it. Cheap thrills suit me fine!
Feels just like those days When the roads were many and wide. Heck, think I’m gonna do it. Gonna enjoy this ride! =D
Had my palm read for the first time in my life. During a smoke break at work (I take a lot of ‘em), Liton mama came up to me and asked me if I’d like to have my palm read. Why not! He looked at it for about 5 minutes and this is what he found out –
1. I’m gonna have a natural death. No bullet in the head. (told ya! Hah!) 2. Will have to go to the doctors once in a while; with nothing major though. (So there…no reason to cut down on smokes) 3. Gonna be happily married. (didn’t say how many times though) 4. Gonna have okay money. 5. Will eventually move abroad and spend a long time there. But the first attempts to move are going to fail. (sighhh…) 6. “You feel God very deeply!”. (At this point he looks at me with a puzzled look and it seemed he expected an explanation.) 7. I am a philosopher! (Lol! Okay, okay hold your gutts in people. More on the way.) 8. “Unusually romantic!” (:$) 9. Got a mean temper. Say rash thing at the heat of the moment. Good thing is simmer down quickly enough and try to see the other side of thing. 10. If a small thing helps somebody, I’ll go on and do it. (aww…aint I nice! ;) 11. Gonna do my life’s work after 40. (ahh….that gives me some time! =D) 12. My religious beliefs are going to change drastically. Will become a proper muslim later in life. (This is the one he repeated and underlined)
Seems Mama, the happiest guy at work, has been analyzing me for a while. No wonder it makes me a li’l uneasy when he asks me how I’m doing. He actually wants to know. (only fair since I’ve been doing with everybody since forever.) I have a feeling that number 12 is the actual message he was trying to deliver. But never the less, all of it was nice. In fact, wouldn’t mind one bit if the writings on my hands turn out to be true. Wont mind that at all.
The reason they forbid you to find out about your future, is that you’d take it all for granted and stop trying. Does that mean I will have to cut down on the smokes after all? Shucks! Its not fun anymore somehow!
I hate. I hate all of it. I hate the red lampshades, pretty and dim, Hate the bunch sitting in the corner, looking serious and self assured, being just as confused as the rest of them the whole time. Hate the kids sitting next, The boys trying to be men And the girls, polishing their neils to rip their hearts out.
Hate the fat fuck up front who thinks he’s gotten away with it. who is trying to believe that he is somehow better than the rest. And his fat girlfriend should really give it a rest; All that sexy moves on that body – positively vulger.
Hate the traffic outside the window Slow, noisy, stuck and mad. Trying to get ahead anyway they can, Making a bigger mess for themselves and everybody else.
Hate the people of the town, gone mad, Possed by cell phones. Just as noisy and menacing as the traffic, And just as pathetic.
Hate my cell phone. Ringing all the time, messing up my life, Taking away my peace and pissing me off. And then not ringing at all.
I hate Me. The schmuck, stuck in the mud And can not get out. The looser who thinks he can figure it out, That he must catch a glimpse of the moon on the water. Only to find himself tongue tied, - The fool! Trying to hide behind words – vague, meaningles, deceitful. The no good bimbo should really give it a rest And accept the fact that math wins everytime And all the rest is crap.
I hate to believe; Hate not being able to believe
I hate me, for turning like the rest of them - bitter, noisy and unfeeling.
I hate you When you decide to fall from grace And become one of us.
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