Wittgenstein once asked a friend, "Tell me, why do people always say it was natural for man to assume that the Sun went round the Earth rather than that the Earth was rotating?" His friend replied, "Well, obviously, because it just looks as though the Sun is going round the Earth." To which Wittgenstein responded, "Well, what would it have looked like if it had looked as though the Earth was rotating?"
Music
Apoptose, Arcana, Amber Ayslum, Northaunt, Ruhr Hunter, Diary of Dreams, Love Spirals Downwards, The Elemental Chrysalis, Lycia, Death in June, Frozen Autumn, Sigur Ros, Bella Morte, In the Nursery, Lake of Tears, Northaunt, Deutsch Nepal, Sophia, Faith and the Muse, Dead can Dance, Portishead, Mazzy Star, Radiohead, Placebo, Patti Smith
Television
Your television is lieing to you
..
Books
Friedrich Nietzsche:
Beyond Good and Evil, The Will to Power, Ecce Homo, The Antichrist, The Birth of Tragedy & The Generalogy of Morals, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
Arthur Schopenhauer:
The World as Will and Idea, The Basic of Morality, On the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason, On the Suffering of the World
Miscellaneous:
G.W.F. Hegel, Immanuel Kant, Karl Marx, Karl Popper, Theodor Ardorno, Aurelius Augustinus, Aldous Huxley, Albert Camus, Max Weber, Hermann Hesse, Franz Kafka, Bible, Buddhas Teachings, Quar'an, Torah, Dalai Lama, Jachym Topol, Daniel Grohm, Julia Cameron, Daniel Goleman, Samuel Shem, Sogyal Rinpoche, Patti Smith, Eckhardt Tolle, Erich Fromm
Silentspace's Details
Status:
In a Relationship
Here for:
Networking, Friends
Zodiac Sign:
Taurus
Silentspace is just another sOul in isOlation Posted at 5:02 PM Jun 19 view more
Silence has fallen And my burned out inner self Has been plunged into Complete darkness And not so long ago The spark of my stray soul Used to glow in Thousands of irrational colors
I always said that it was impossible to live and be aware, that is how ‘we’ began but ‘we’ need more. The further forwards ‘we’ went, the more ‘we’ needed to imagine other landscapes, other conquests. I’m blind on earth but I know the way, the same gestures repeated over and over daily, I know all the tastes, the artificial flavors, I’m capable of not breathing. My hand don’t grope, I know the way and I invented new turns, other landscapes, the further forward I go, the more I must leave my habits behind. So I imagine that things are not what they seem, that my life is changing, that boredom wears off. A hole under my foot appears that I never felt. I can keep on walking because I want more, always more. Nothing serious can ever happen. If I suffer, I could die and suffering will not last. I had to stop my thoughts at night to sleep even though I can sleep, thinking of money even though I can work or do anything I want. I had to feel fear to live.
But why should I go further in this erroneous dream? The people are blurry, the sea is unchained, I find nothing real. Neither that which is striking, nor that which troubles in this aimless mixture where even violence has gone soft. The hard water no longer rips up the dust and truth hides, hides to die as an arbitrary shape in all the glasses of the world, all the seas.
The day is running out of breath, and the night, the tide trash builds up in front of my door. Dead time like the blades of a helicopter going up and down, up and down. I wait day and night, the rising tide in front of my open door. My feet never get wet, dirty, neither does my head or my heart.
I always had too much memory.
I can describe in detail places, the weather, the mood of 20 years ago. My friends are surprised, they who can hardly even remember the very special events in their lives. Details invade me, I go over and over it all. My friends slowly tire of all my regrets; I am not good company. Especially because for some time, the shadow that follows me is not mine. It is much smaller and lighter and sometimes I can hear it whispering, laughing, telling stories or even whine a bit when I move too fast and it is tired. I really believe that I recognize this shadow. I talk with it and only it pleases me. I get the feeling the world is slowly moving away and soon it will only be my shadow friend and me. There will come a day when I will no longer be able to stand, we think that day will never come but it is not always because of old age. Far from the pack, my words will glide over the smooth bodies of others, we will no longer understand each other and I will already be long gone. In the crowd which I never liked, I will feel even less apt at elbowing out a place for myself. I'll slide down the slope. In the wind, under the tree, it is ashes that will flow over my hands. The screens of the world will show films in an unknown dialect, the images will be unfamiliar to me and emotionally empty. No tears in my eyes which no longer want to see neither beauty nor ugliness, neither the insipid nor tragedy, nothing will ever resemble what I loved because I will love no more.
I am a veil between tomorrow and yesterday, a changing image, I do not exist. In my dreams I foresee what I lost, something that I never had, something that was never like an immutable body, a fragment of eternity, a tireless summer. I am only passing by, I carry in me the death of every moment, I do not really exist.
This space is dedicated to the spirit of seabluedreaming
Changing changes, non-stop moving in non-existent matter of matters … my own thoughts ad absurdum within days. Inside turned out and no more outside let in. Emotions shut down behind closed doors. The inside resolved in it's own acid poisoned images and feelings.
Silence has fallen upon my burned out inner self I am tired of tiresome words Let there be silence
It's a prediction. Or a feel?! I closed this book and my collection of empty pages, I wanted to find the atmosphere of a warm painting. Dark colors with a single source of light in the middle, one man, seen from behind. Everything reinvented differently, neither overpopulation nor clans. Individuality the mistress of each row, red, the white hole. The shadow glides gently. I forget about time and let go. My hand is cold like the first day. The first feeling of tranquility and of suffering. It's time to sleep and let be carried and to die a bit while sleeping. The shadow slides over my hand which is almost cold now, it is time to die. In a year I will come back, the air will be warm and the weather clear, I will go dream by the water. Faded out and born again. Only a memory, that's what I am.
I saw another moon in the sky. I tried to imagine this moment. It was a moment my mind will always chase to ease the storm that plagues me. When silence has tied me up so tight that I can’t breathe, with blackness so vast upon me, heavy on my mind, when I am lead through my own nightmare, a vision of terror right before my eyes, this moon was a torch that would ever burn and give me light as I closed my eyes. I still believe that the moon and I were meant to be one. Each dawn I die a bit more when I know you are gone. Wandering pale under cold skies fading grey, my shadows slowly closing me in, I want to sacrifice all I am for a last moment.
There is always someone else talking in my head. I find myself thinking over and over again - the same. Crucified emotions struggle to survive in a world of confusion. Distance is innocense. Monuments of obstacles. Wings of stone. Victimized innocent. I whisper gently: It's deceiving, but that's all right. Fools are not to blame.
I get a funny feeling, It comes from deep inside. I get all mad and angry. Wanting to go and hide.
My doctor calls it depression, My friends say it's just me. But the thoughts and feelings, No one will ever be able to see.
Some say I'm psycho, Some say I'm just weird. It's like I'm a different person, And the old me just disappeared.
I get really edgy, I want to commit suicide real bad. Then I get a headache, Followed by feeling sad.
I wish I could get help, I wish it would go away. Maybe if I keep looking in me real hard, It will some day.
I cannot stand still: time is dying, I am dying: Time is farewell!
Restless I wander through the landscapes of my mind like a dead leaf carried on a gale. Black emptiness surrounds me. A chill drips silently. Everything becomes a naked experience in a world that is addicted to fiction. Collective insanity, anxious, boredom at unease, identity lost in pseudoneeds - produced labels; Never Enough fuels the engine of shallow satisfaction. Profit the only blind aim pursued with absolute ruthlessness. The masses are the mirror reflection of the One - behind bars; the lifeless objects to be used, then discarded and finally disposed on the landfills of greed and power - the lawmakers. Hungry ghosts label, price and consume the pieces of dead meat from the shelves of corporation - corruption. Loneliness has filled me. Robbed of my imagination, my creativity, my ability to think and act for myself, I want to stop the waiting for nothing. With no home and no exit in sight, knowing it’s just an illusion, I wander with the masses in pain to find … find!? … My spirit is calling; and my soul is crying; and my shadow is weeping. But one day when hopes or fears passed, I close my eyes and after the dark, I know, the earth will take me back, and knead and shape me into something else - a tree, a bird, or even a cloud - but please not into me again.
The absence of unhappiness doesn't mean happiness
The absence of suffering doesn't mean well-being
Not to judge doesn’t mean to have compassion
Not to hate doesn’t mean to love
To be free from desire doesn’t mean to be needless
Thinking to be doesn’t mean being
The sun, the clouds, water, birds and insects have a purpose. What is mine?,
Tick tock
tick tock
Tick tock - time is fleeting, time is passing by. I am only passing by. Only a fleeting image is what I am. I know I am but don’t know why.
Trouble
Trouble
Trouble
That’s what they say. They say that I should fear this and that. I hear the church bells and don’t know what they are calling upon on. The true God of eternity? Trouble they say. You are in trouble. They say that they are my friends and want to help me. But I know they lie. I only see emptiness in their souls, darkness, like a cold grave. They have hateful minds and are trying to pass on their hallucinations. We are in trouble. Distorted bells sound for God. But what does it all mean?
Unwrap me from this white linen shroud and clothe me With leaves of jasmine and lilies; Take my body from the ivory casket and let it rest Upon pillows of orange blossoms. Lament me not, but sing songs of youth and joy; Shed not tears upon me, but sing of harvest and the winepress; Utter no sigh of agony, but draw upon my face with your Finger the symbol of Love and Joy. Disturb not the air's tranquility with chanting and requiems, But let your hearts sing with me the song of Eternal Life; Mourn me not with apparel of black, But dress in color and rejoice with me; Talk not of my departure with sighs in your hearts; close Your eyes and you will see me with you forevermore.
We shall not always plant while others reap The golden increment of bursting fruit, Not always countenance, abject and mute, That lesser men should hold their brothers cheap; Not everlastingly while others sleep Shall we beguile their limbs with mellow flute, Not always bend to some more subtle brute; We were not made to eternally weep. The night whose sable breast relieves the stark, White stars is no less lovely being dark, And there are buds that cannot bloom at all In light, but crumple, piteous, and fall; So in the dark we hide the heart that bleeds, And wait, and tend our agonizing seeds.
Pazuzu:Assyrian/Babylonian demonic god of the underworld. Sometimes he is associated with being a protector against pestilential winds, especially from the West. Amulets of Pazuzu were placed near or hung around pregnant women’s necks for protection. Pazuzu forced the demoness Lamastu, said to prey on unborn babies and causing still births, back to the Underworld. Pazuzu is also the demon that possessed the girl in the movie The Exorcist.
I thought that I would share a few photos of Harper's Ferry WV. I think
I fell in love with the town. At night, the trains come through and
blow their whistles and it echos across the mountains. Two rivers come
together - the Shenandoah and the Potomac - and the town has great
history (and a very nice cemetery). It was a rainy day and the place
was pretty empty, just the way I like it for photographing. Here are
two shots that give a slight flavor of the place.
Stuart
Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory unannounced, stray dogs that amble in, sniff around a bit, and simply never leave. Our lives are measured by these.
_____________________ ~Susan B. Anthony~
Have a nice week my friend.... Thank you for accepting my friend request... Love always ~Mary~
With you a part of me hath passed away; For in the peopled forest of my mind A tree made leafless by this wintry wind Shall never don again its green array. Chapel and fireside, country road and bay, Have something of their friendliness resigned; Another, if I would, I could not find, And I am grown much older in a day. But yet I treasure in my memory Your gift of charity, and young hearts ease, And the dear honour of your amity; For these once mine, my life is rich with these. And I scarce know which part may greater be,-- What I keep of you, or you rob from me.
Art thou pale for weariness Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, Wandering companionless Among the stars that have a different birth, - And ever changing, like a joyless eye That finds no object worth its constancy? ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley
It is our shared duty as artists to endure through strength...we simply can no longer afford to succumb to weakness. We cannot allow weakness to manifest and derive us from the gifts we are given...
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