Animals...With Lightsabers

What the heck?

http://www.animalswithlightsabers.com

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Letter Ten, Paris 1908 - Rilke

Letter Ten
Paris
The day after Christmas, 1908 

You must know, dear Mr. Kappus, how glad I was to have the lovely letter from you. The news that you give me, real and expressible as it now is again, seems to me good news, and the longer I thought it over, the more I felt that it was very good news indeed. That is really what I wanted to write you for Christmas Eve; but I have been variously and uninterruptedly living in my work this winter, and the ancient holiday arrived so quickly that I hardly had enough time to do the most necessary errands, much less to write. 

But I have thought of you often during this holiday and imagined how silent you must be in your solitary fort amongst the empty hills, upon which those large southern winds fling themselves as if they wanted to devour them in large pieces. 

It must be immense, this silence, in which sounds and movements have room, and if one thinks that along with all this the presence of the distant sea also resounds, perhaps as the innermost note in this prehistoric harmony, then one can only wish that you are trustingly and patiently letting the magnificent solitude work upon you, this solitude which can no longer be erased from your life; which, in everything that is in store for you to experience and to do, will act as an anonymous influence, continuously and gently decisive, rather as the blood of our ancestors incessantly moves in us and combines with our own to form the unique, unrepeatable being that we are at every turning of our life. 

Yes: I am glad you have that firm, sayable existence with you, that title, that uniform, that service, all that tangible and limited world, which in such surroundings, with such an isolated and not numerous body of men, takes on seriousness and necessity, and implies a vigilant application, above and beyond the frivolity and mere timepassing of the military profession, and not only permits a self-reliant attentiveness but actually cultivates it. And to be in circumstances that are working upon us, that from time to time place us in front of great natural Things - that is all we need. 

Art too is just a way of living, and however one lives, one can, without knowing, prepare for it; in everything real one is closer to it, more its neighbor, than in the unreal half-artistic professions, which, while they pretend to be close to art, in practice deny and attack the existence of all art - as, for example, all of journalism does and almost all criticism and three quarters of what is called (and wants to be called) literature. I am glad, in a word, that you have overcome the danger of landing in one of those professions, and are solitary and courageous, somewhere in a rugged reality. May the coming year support and strengthen you in that. 

Always Yours,
R. M. Rilke

I happened upon this today as I was reading at lunch and it resonated within me. I hope you enjoy. - Rod
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Kissing Mick Jagger

Okay I am about to confess to
the strangest dream that I have had in
well a long time all in all
picture an antebellum mansion
whose décor cries decay and decadence
in scatted boxes upon the floor where
a stranger tells me that Mick has
always had a crush on me and I
should take the time to tell him good-bye
I climb a sweeping staircase to a room
cluttered with half packed boxes and items
scattered about the floor and furniture
in the center of the clutter sits Mick and
he is sorting through junk to select keepsakes
and placing them in a small wooden box brightly
painted with egrets in flight and secured with
a small golden lock he rises and greets me
with the comfort of an old friend and asks me
if Shelly told me, well, if Shelly told me
I nod and he, apologetic, says he hopes it
does not make me uncomfortable I tell him
that it does not that I am flattered he say
she felt that I should know before he leaves and
asks if he can have a kiss goodbye I
lean into him and kiss him full upon the
mouth the kiss is soft and tender with
just a hint of passion hidden
in the edges near the taste of mandarin oranges 
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Notes on the Necessity of Reinvention

walking down the long tiled halls of

this industrial vessel listening to the

murmuring voices of the crew of this

lost Dutchmen I contemplate the

necessity of reinvention and the

circumstance of temporal reincarnation

deep in thought I am watching my feet

pace the gleaming floor and my friend

traveling in the opposite direction asks

what are you looking at Rod and I

reply time travel I am watching the future

if I look at the space just ahead of me just

one pace further down the hallway I can

see the future not far into it but far enough

that I am time traveling into a land colored

with the necessity of reinvention and the

circumstance of temporal reincarnation

my friend pauses and after a moments

consideration advises soberly don't trip

 

entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem

I drove to work this morning in a heavy winter fog. Visibility was about fifty yards or less for the whole of the drive, which gave the commute a very surreal feeling. I was listening to Melissa Etheridge on the stereo -

 

"Change"

 

And so it goes, this too shall pass away, it cuts so strange

The only thing that stays the same is change

The only thing that stays the same is change

 

I'm not so sure where I have been

I don't know just where I'm going

Hard as I hold it in my hand

I can't stop the wind from blowing

 

And so it goes, this too shall pass away, it cuts so strange..."

 

I think Melissa is one of the great American songwriters - a brilliant story teller, a keen observer of the human condition, and a talented artist.

 

We're sliding into the third week of February.  2010 opened quickly for me and has been moving just as quickly around.  I am resolutely focused on making those choices that keep life simple. I focus on being in the moment that I am in, doing the thing that I am doing, making those choices that still the monkey mind.

 

I was talking with my lover T.R. last night, who has been a great and enthusiastic supporter of my taking those moves toward a state of tranquility (after the particular challenges 2009 had presented) and we were discussing making simple choices - today as that conversation reverberated inside of me I realized that, to a great degree it means attempting to live the philosophical principle of Occam's Razor. Philosophically Occam hit on one of the Tao's three greatest treasures - simple in actions and in thoughts you return to the source of being.  I want to do my best this year to stay focused on that and return, as closely as possible, to my source of being.

 

entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem

(entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity)

 

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Occam%27s_Razor

Emptiness

I dreamed last night of a simple wooden serving tray and a voice that said "empty the vessel". It reminded me of where the Tao says that the worth of a vessel lies in it's emptiness.
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Neruda: On The Shore of Blue Silence

“Let us look for secret things somewhere in the world on the blue shore of silence or where the storm has passed rampaging like a train. There the faint signs are left, coins of time and water, debris, celestial ash and the irreplaceable rapture of sharing in the labor of solitude in the sand.”

 

-Pablo Neruda, “On the shore of blue silence…”

Poetry: I, Who...

I, Who...
I, Who...
I, Who...what?
Fell from grace
Rather violently
Rolled turbulently
A sudden storm
Crashing lightning
Driving hail
Pounded tin
Stripped corn
Shattered glass
Tiny shards of which
Dug deep into flesh
A splintered crown
I, Who...wore a
Splintered crown of
Shattered glass
The color of lightning.

I, Who...

I, Who...
I, Who...
I, Who...what?
Fell from grace
Rather violently
Rolled turbulently
A sudden storm
Crashing lightning
Driving hail
Pounded tin
Stripped corn
Shattered glass
Tiny shards of which
Dug deep into flesh
A splintered crown
I, Who...wore a
Splintered crown of
Shattered glass
The color of lightning.
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Layers

All of life is layered. The trick to simplicity is not in denying the layers or in an attempting to “un-layer” life. The trick is to simply recognize each layer in itself, to simply accept each layer for what it is, nothing more and nothing less.

In the last three months I went, rather rapidly, rather violently, through a succession of layers. To describe the last three months as turbulent would be an understatement. Yet in the other layers of life there was little or no turbulence. Some of those layers remained smooth and tranquil.

The strength I drew from those layers helped me move through the rough buffeting of the more turbulent layers. The tranquil layers were the three constants in life – faith, friends and family. I cannot, with words, do justice to the strength and solace I found there. All I can do is will my thanks to the universe and bow my head in prayer and tell each of the people who supported me – simply thanks. Thanks for being one of the tranquil layers.