Caffe' "The End Of Time"

Flower of Life

2012-03-09T15:17:00.002Z

Besides the last minute statement on Aliens (which can be a more personnel view) this is a very informative video about the "Flower of Life" and its meaning in Sacred Geometry.

Our Biggest Fear

2012-03-08T15:35:00.000Z

"Death is not the biggest fear we have;

our biggest fear is taking the risk to be

alive - the risk to be alive and express

what we really are."

-Don Miguel Ruiz-

"Still I Rise" - Maya Angelou

2012-03-06T18:44:00.000Z

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise.

by Maya Angelou

copyright @ 1978 Maya Angelou

Lucio Dalla - Balla Balla Ballerino

2012-03-06T11:38:00.001Z

Alla Memoria di Un Grande Poeta: Lucio Dalla (1943-2012)

2012-03-06T11:17:00.001Z

Shim on 2012

2012-03-02T18:38:00.008Z

On 2012 And The End Of The World

First of all let's make it clear that no-thing happens, or manifests, in this world without the direct contribution of human beings.
No-thing can happen if first humans don't make it happen at some level.

2012... is a specific "time" in "space"
when each one of us is given the chance
to find out, who we really are.
A time to look straight into the Hall of Mirrors,
and discover...
they are just mirrors!
This is not the end of the world!
It's a chance for us to find out more
about ourselves
as individuals
and as a collective.

And for all those who think the world will end;
I may suggest to start living,
and party,
as if there was no-tomorrow!

Reclaim Your Mind - Kinetic Typography

2012-03-01T17:53:00.000Z

The Wolf is Getting Married

2012-03-01T16:18:00.000Z

March

2012-03-01T12:18:00.000Z

"God sleeps in the minerals,

dreams in the plants,

wakes in the animals,

and becomes self-conscious

in man."

-Druids-

This is How Magic is Done

2012-02-28T16:31:00.001Z

"Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will respond to that commitment by removing impossible obstacles. This is the trick. This is what all these teachers and philosophers, who really counted, who really touched the alchemical gold, this is what they understood. This is the shamanic dance in the waterfall. This is how magic is done. By hurling yourself into the abyss and discovering its a feathers bed."

-Terence McKenna-

Ehm.Bobi

2012-02-28T15:53:00.002Z

art-photo by Ehm.Bobi

http://www.wix.com/bobibensi/ehmbobi

Yayoi Kusama Interview

2012-02-26T16:42:00.000Z

5 Minutes!

2012-02-23T15:58:00.000Z

"Every man

is a damn fool

for at least five minutes

every day;

wisdom consists

in not

exceeding the limit."

Elbert Hubbard (1856-1915)

"IF" by Rudyard Kipling

2012-02-20T17:49:00.002Z

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream...and not make dreams your master;
If you can think...and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings...nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And...which is more...you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

Oldest Supernova Ever Recorded

2012-02-20T16:38:00.000Z

Yayoi Kusama

2012-02-19T17:11:00.000Z

The 82 years old Japanese visionary is an incredible artist with a very unique surrealist-expressionist style. Having suffered nervous disorders and hallucinations from a very young age, Kusama has chosen to live in a psychiatric hospital, in Tokyo, for the past 38 years. She has built herself a studio opposite the hospital, so, she can go in every day to paint and work.

Yayoi Kusama's exhibition is at the Tate Modern - London- until June 5th 2012

Nothing's Real But Love

2012-02-16T14:17:00.000Z

1 In A Million

2012-02-15T20:00:00.003Z

art by Jean-Francois Debongnie

The story goes
he was 1 in a million.
One day
he sails away
to another world,
to the other side.

A world
he has never
seen before,
and knew,
he could never
comprehend...
Yet, the little boy, sails away.

At first
he open his eyes
and heart,
to all
he never knew.

So pure and bright this little boy...
a sunny day
may just appear
glumly
in his comparison.

So, he goes,
day by day,
in that world
that grows
darker and stranger
to the little boy.

Years have passed...
the little boy,
is not so bright any more,
nor so pure...

That strange world
has craft his web
around his soul
making his steps
dark and heavy
to carry-on.

Dark and heavy
the little boy forgets...
he made a choice.
Because he was 1 in a million!

by A.Selvaggio

Amsterdam's Canals Freeze

2012-02-13T16:06:00.000Z

This city is so pretty!

LIFE

2012-02-13T15:18:00.006Z

"LIFE'S AN ADVENTURE IN FORGIVENESS."
-Norman Cousins-

Misidentification

2012-02-08T16:06:00.000Z

at least...

2012-02-07T15:46:00.000Z

"If you always do what interests you,

at least one person is pleased."

-Katharine Hepburn-

The Ancient One: "Tell Me Your Vision"

2012-02-06T17:27:00.007Z

Ancient One sat in the shade of his tree in front of his cave.

Red People came to him and he said to Red People,

"Tell me your vision".

And Red People answered, "The elders have told us to

pray in this manner, and that manner, and it is

important that only we pray as we have been taught

for this has been handed down to us by the elders".

"Hmmmm," said the Ancient One.

Then Black People came to him and he said to Black

People, "Tell me your vision".

And Black People answered, "Our mothers have said

go to this building and that buliding and pray in this

manner and that manner. And our fathers have said to

bow in this manner and that manner when we pray.

And it is important that we do only this when we pray."

"Hmmmm," said the Ancient One.

Then Yellow People came to him and he said to Yellow

People, "Tell me your vision".

And Yellow People answered, "Our teachers have told

us to sit in this manner and that manner and to say

this thing and that thing when we pray. And it is

important that we do only this when we pray."

"Hmmmm," said the Ancient One.

Then White People came to him and he said to White

People, "Tell me your vision".

And White People answered, "Our Book has told us to

pray in this way and that way and to do this thing and

that thing, and it is very important that we do this

when we pray".

"Hmmmm," said the Ancient One.

Then Ancient One spoke to the Earth and said, "Have

you given the people a vision?" And the Earth said,

"Yes, a special gift for each one, but the people were

so busy speaking and arguing about which way is

right they could not see the gift I gave each one of

them." And Ancient One asked the same question of

Water and Fire and Air and got the same answer.

Then Ancient One asked Animal, and Bird, and Insect,

and Tree, and Flower, and Sky, and Moon, and Sun,

and Stars, and all of the other Spirits and each told

him the same.

Ancient One thought this was very sad. He called Red

People, Black People, Yellow People, and White People

to him and said to them: "The ways taught to you by

your Elders, and your Mothers, and Fathers, and

Teachers, and Books are sacred. It is good that you

respect those ways, for they are the ways of your

ancestors. But the ancestors no longer walk on the

Face of the Earth Mother. You have forgotten your

own Vision. Your Vision is right for you but no one

else. Now each of you must pray for your own Visions,

and be still enough to see them,

so you can follow the way of the heart.

It is a hard way.

It is a good way.

by Joseph Bearwalker Wilson (1942-2004)

Wonders

2012-02-05T17:05:00.001Z

by Petr Heralek Czech Republic 27 Jan. 2012

by Sylvain Serre Canada 27 Jan. 2012

by Alister Chopman Norway 30 Jan. 2012

by Tapio Kostet Finland 3 Feb. 2012

by Eso/Vista/ J. Emerson - Aquarius Constellation - 700 light years from Earth

The Tree of Life - A Poem -

2012-02-04T13:52:00.002Z

Behold that before the emanations were emanated and the creatures were created,
The Upper Simple Light had filled the whole existence.
And there was no vacancy, such as an empty air, a hollow,
But all was filled with that Simple, Boundless Light.
And there was no such part as head, or end,
But everything was One, Simple Light, balanced
evenly and equally, And it was called “the Light of Ein Sof (Infinity).”
And when upon His simple will, came the desire to
create the worlds and emanate the emanations,
To bring to light the perfection of His deeds, His
names, His appellations,
Which was the cause of the creation of the worlds,
Then the Ein Sof restricted Himself, in His middle
point, precisely at the center,
And He restricted that Light, and drew far off to the
sides around that middle point.
And there remained an empty space, an empty air, a
vacuum.
Precisely from the middle point.
And that restriction was equally around that empty,
middle point, So, that the space was evenly circled around it.
And after the restriction, when the vacant space
remained empty.
Precisely in the middle of the Light of Ein Sof,
A place was formed, where the Emanations,
Creations, Formations, and Actions might reside.
Then from the Light of Ein Sof, a single line hung
down from Above, lowered into that space.
And through that line, He emanated, created, formed,
and made all the worlds.
Prior to these four worlds, there was one Light of Ein
Sof, whose Name is One, in wondrous, hidden unity,
And even in the angles closest to Him
There is no force and no attainment in The Ein Sof,
As there is no mind of a created that could attain
Him, For He has no place, no boundary, no name.

-The Ari, The Tree of Life, Part One, Gate One-

Wislawa Szymborska

2012-02-03T16:19:00.001Z

On Death, without Exaggeration

It can't take a joke,
find a star, make a bridge.
It knows nothing about weaving, mining, farming,
building ships, or baking cakes.

In our planning for tomorrow,
it has the final word,
which is always beside the point.

It can't even get the things done
that are part of its trade:
dig a grave,
make a coffin,
clean up after itself.

Preoccupied with killing,
it does the job awkwardly,
without system or skill.
As though each of us were its first kill.

Oh, it has its triumphs,
but look at its countless defeats,
missed blows,
and repeat attempts!

Sometimes it isn't strong enough
to swat a fly from the air.
Many are the caterpillars
that have outcrawled it.

All those bulbs, pods,
tentacles, fins, tracheae,
nuptial plumage, and winter fur
show that it has fallen behind
with its halfhearted work.

Ill will won't help
and even our lending a hand with wars and coups d'etat
is so far not enough.

Hearts beat inside eggs.
Babies' skeletons grow.
Seeds, hard at work, sprout their first tiny pair of leaves
and sometimes even tall trees fall away.

Whoever claims that it's omnipotent
is himself living proof
that it's not.

There's no life
that couldn't be immortal
if only for a moment.

Death
always arrives by that very moment too late.

In vain it tugs at the knob
of the invisible door.
As far as you've come
can't be undone.

by Wislawa Szymborska (1923-2012)

Irene Cara - Remember My Name - 1980

2012-02-01T17:51:00.000Z

February

2012-02-01T17:38:00.000Z

"Remember my name!

I'm gonna live for ever!

I'm gonna learn how to fly..."

"A Thousand Kisses Deep" by Leonard Cohen

2012-01-30T15:46:00.000Z

The Ability To...

2012-01-28T12:00:00.000Z

"Soy" by Jorge Luis Borges

2012-01-25T15:15:00.000Z

Soy el que sabe que no es menos vano
que el vano observador que en el espejo
de silencio y cristal sigue el reflejo
o el cuerpo (da lo mismo) del hermano.

Soy, tácitos amigos, el que sabe
que no hay otra venganza que el olvido
ni otro perdón. Un dios ha concedido
al odio humano esta curiosa llave.

Soy el que pese a tan ilustres modos
de errar, no ha descifrado el laberinto
singular y plural, arduo y distinto,

del tiempo, que es de uno y es de todos.
Soy el que es nadie, el que no fue una espada
en la guerra. Soy eco, olvido, nada.

Herbert Ponting - Antarctic

2012-01-25T14:33:00.002Z

photos by Herbert Ponting,
from the British Antarctic-Terra Nova-Expedition, 1910-1913.

PATTY PRAVO

2012-01-23T16:38:00.001Z

Patty... 64 years of coolness!

Alice Oswald & Sea Poem Dress

2012-01-23T16:04:00.015Z

SONNET

I can't sleep in case a few things you said
no longer apply. The matter's endless,
but definitions alter what's ahead
and you and words are like a hare and tortoise.
Aaaagh there's no description — each a fractal
sectioned by silences, we have our own
skins to feel through and fall back through — awful
to make so much of something so unknown.
But even I — some shower-swift commitments
are all you'll get; I mustn't gauge or give
more than I take — which is a way to balance
between misprision and belief in love
both true and false, because I'm only just
short of a word to be the first to trust.

by Alice Oswald

art from ShortArtFilm "Sea Poem Dress" by Cathryn.
www.atelier-cathryn.blogspot.com

ALAN WATTS

2012-01-20T18:14:00.000Z

"How is it possible that a being with such sensitive jewels as the eyes, such enchanted musical instruments as the ears, and such fabulous arabesque of nerves as the brain can experience itself anything less than a god."

"No work or love will flourish out of guilt, fear, or hollowness of heart, just as no valid plans for the future can be made by those who have no capacity for living now."

"I have realized that the past and future are real illusions, that they exist in the present, which is what there is and all there is."

"But the attitude of faith is to let go, and become open to truth, whatever it might turn out to be."

Alan Watts (1915-1973) British philosopher, writer, and speaker.

Alan Watts - Fear of Enlightenment

2012-01-20T18:13:00.000Z

IKKYU SOJUN

2012-01-19T17:27:00.001Z

A FISHERMAN

Studying texts and stiff meditation

can make you lose your Original Mind.

A solitary tune by a fisherman, though,

can be an invaluable treasure.

Dusk rain on the river,

the moon peeking in and out of the clouds;

Elegant beyond words,

he chants his songs night after night.

by Ikkyu Sojun (1394-1481)

Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien

2012-01-19T15:38:00.000Z

IMAGINATION

2012-01-16T17:57:00.000Z

"Imagination

will often carry us

to worlds that never where.

But without it

we go nowhere."

-Carl Sagan-

CosmosMan

2012-01-13T17:16:00.001Z

Bill Hicks StandUp Routine

2012-01-12T19:44:00.001Z

Bill Hicks (1961-1994)

Writer's Block

2012-01-12T17:58:00.001Z

"Can I be blunt on this subject? If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time (or the tools) to write. Simple as that"

-Stephen King-

Kyung Wha Chung plays Vivaldi

2012-01-11T17:19:00.003Z

Quattro Stagioni "Estate" - Vivaldi

ART BY OFFENDERS

2012-01-11T16:12:00.002Z

"Art by Offenders" is an annual exhibition currently celebrating its 50th anniversary. Administered by the Koestler Trust, the exhibition, is a selection of the work of Men and Women held in British prisons.

Here is some of Their work.

ALDA MERINI

2012-01-09T18:56:00.006Z


Terra Santa		Holy Land

Ho conosciuto Gerico, ho avuto anch'io la mia Palestina, le mura del manicomio erano le mura di Gerico e una pozza di acqua infettata ci ha battezzati tutti. Lì dentro eravamo ebrei e i Farisei erano in alto e c'era anche il Messia confuso dentro la folla: un pazzo che urlava al Cielo tutto il suo amore in Dio.		I have known Jericho, I too have had my Palestine, The walls of the home Were the walls of Jericho And a pool of infected water Has baptised us all. In there we were Hebrews And the Pharisees up high And the Messiah was with us Confused within the throng: A touched crying out to Heaven All of his love of God.
Noi tutti, branco di asceti eravamo come gli uccelli e ogni tanto una rete oscura ci imprigionava ma andavamo verso la messe, la messe di nostro Signore e Cristo il Salvatore.		We all, pack of ascetics Were of the birds the likes And obscure a net Would times imprison us But we were headed for the harvest, The harvest of our Lord And Christ our Saviour.
Fummo lavati e sepolti, odoravamo di incenso. E dopo, quando amavamo ci facevano gli elettrochoc perché, dicevano, un pazzo non può amare nessuno.		Washed we were and buried, Of incense did we smell. And after, when we loved They gave us electroshocks For, they said, a touched Can never love.
Ma un giorno da dentro l'avello anch'io mi sono ridestata e anch'io come Gesù ho avuto la mia resurrezione, ma non sono salita ai cieli sono discesa all'inferno da dove riguardo stupita le mura di Gerico antica.		But one day from within the sepulchre I too have reawaken And I too like Jesus Have had my resurrection, But I have not risen to the heavens I have descended into hell Whence again I watch astounded The walls of ancient Jericho.
Le dune del canto si sono chiuse, o dannata magia dell'universo, che tutto può sopra una molle sfera. Non venire tu quindi al mio passato, non aprirai dei delta vorticosi, delle piaghe latenti, degli accessi alle scale che mobili si dànno sopra la balaustra del declino; resta, potresti anche essere Orfeo che mi viene a ritogliere dal nulla, resta o mio ardito e sommo cavaliere, io patisco la luce, nelle ombre sono regina ma fuori nel mondo potrei essere morta e tu lo sai lo smarrimento che mi prende pieno quando io vedo un albero sicuro. by Alda Merini (1931-2009)		The dunes of chanting have closed over, Oh, of the universe cursed charm, Upon a tender orb all powerful. Come thus thou not unto my past, vorticosi deltas you shan't open, Or latent sores, or access Unto stairs which mobile give themselves Onto the balustrade of decline; Do stay, you might even be Orfeus Who cometh to deliver me from emptiness, Do stay my bold and regal cavalier, The light I suffer, in the shades I am queen but out in the world I could be dead and you do know The awe that seizes me all through When I see a tree that's safe.

PAPER-CUT-PROJECT

2012-01-09T17:57:00.002Z

Beautiful paper headpieces by Paper-Cut-Project from Italia Vogue Dec.2011

Figli delle Stelle - 1977

2012-01-06T16:14:00.000Z

JANUARY

2012-01-01T14:04:00.002Z

"There is a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,....."

Stand Up! ... This is the time to DANCE!!!

The Buddha Says...

2011-12-28T18:40:00.000Z

"If you knew what I

know about the power

of giving, you would not

let a single meal pass

without sharing it in

some way."

-Buddha-

Where Stories Come From

2011-12-23T16:52:00.001Z

Once, a very long time ago, so long ago that it must have been close to the time when the First Man and the First Woman walked upon the earth, there lived a woman named Manzandaba and her husband Zenzele.
They lived in a traditional home in a small traditional village. They had many children, and for the most part, they were very happy. They would spend the day working, weaving baskets, tanning hides, hunting and tilling the earth near their home. On occasion they would go down to the great ocean and play under the sun in the sand, laughing at the funny crabs they would see scuttling along there and rejoicing at the way in which the birds would dip and dive in the sea breezes. Zenzele had the heart of an artist and loved to carve. He would fashion beautiful birds out of old tree stumps. With his axe he could make the most wonderful impala and kudu bucks from stone. Their homestead was filled with decorative works by Zenzele the carver.
But in the evenings when the family would sit around the fire before going to sleep they would not be so happy. It was too dark for weaving or carving, and yet too early to go to sleep. "Mama," the children would cry, "Sifuna izindaba!" "We want stories! Tell us some stories, Mama!" Manzandaba would think and think, trying to find a story she could tell her children, but it was of no use. She and Zenzele had no stories to tell. They sought the counsel of their neighbours, but none of them knew any stories. They listened to the wind. Could the wind be trying to tell them a story? No, they heard nothing. There were no stories, no dreams, no magical tales.
One day Zenzele told his wife that she must go in search of stories. He promised to look after the home, to care for the children, to mend and wash and sweep and clean, if only she would bring back stories for the people. Manzandaba agreed. She kissed her husband and children good-bye and set off in search of stories.
The woman decided to ask every creature she passed if they had stories to share. The first animal she met was Nogwaja the hare. He was such a trickster! But she thought she'd better ask him all the same. "Nogwaja, do you have any stories? My people are hungry for tales!" "Stories?" shrieked Nogwaja. "Why, I have hundreds, thousands, no--millions of them!"
"Oh, please, Nogwaja," begged Manzandaba, "give some to me that we might be happy!"
"Ummm...." Nogwaja said. "Uhhhh...well, I have no time for stories now. Can't you see that I am terribly busy? Stories in the daytime, indeed!" And Nogwaja hopped quickly away. Silly Nogwaja! He was lying! He didn't have any stories!
With a sigh Manzandaba continued on her way. The next one she came upon was mother baboon with her babies. "Oh, Fene!" she called. "I see you are a mother also! My children are crying for stories. Do you have any stories that I could bring back to them?"
"Stories?" laughed the baboon. "Do I look like I have time to tell stories? Hawu! With so much work to do to keep my children fed and safe and warm, do you think I have time for stories? I am glad that I do not have human children who cry for such silly things!"
Manzandaba continued on her way. She then saw an owl in a wild fig tree. "Oh, Khova," she called, "please will you help me? I am looking for stories. Do you have any stories you could give me to take back to my home?"
Well, the owl was most perturbed at having been woken from her sleep. "Who is making noise in my ears?" she hooted. "What is this disruption? What do you want? Stories! You dare wake me for stories? How rude!" And with that the owl flew off to another tree and perched much higher, where she believed she would be left in peace. Soon she was sound asleep again. And Manzandaba went sadly on her way.
Next she came upon an elephant. "Oh, kind Ndlovu," she asked, "do you know where I might find some stories? My people are hungry for some tales, and we do not have any!"
Now the elephant was a kind animal. He saw the look in the woman's eye and felt immediately sorry for her. "Dear woman," he said, "I do not know of any stories. But I do know the eagle. He is the king of the birds and flies much higher than all the rest. Don't you think that he might know where you could find stories?"
"Ngiyabonga, Ndlovu!" she said. "Thank you very much!"
So Manzandaba began to search for Nkwazi the great fish eagle. She found him near the mouth of the Tugela River. Excitedly she ran toward him. She called out to him as he was swooping down from the sky, talons outstretched to grab a fish from the river. "Nkwazi! Nkwazi!" she called. She so startled the eagle that he dropped the fish that had been his. He circled around and landed on the shore near the woman.
"Hawu!" he barked at her. "What is so important that you cause me to lose my supper?"
"Oh, great and wise Nkwazi," began Manzandaba. (Now fish eagle is very vain. He liked hearing this woman refer to him and great and wise. He puffed out his feathers as she spoke.) "Nkwazi, my people are hungry for stories. I have been searching a long time now for tales to bring back to them. Do you know where I might find such tales?" She gave him a great look of desperation.
"Well," he said, "even though I am quite wise, I do not know everything. I only know of the things that are here on the face of the earth. But there is one who knows even the secrets of the deep, dark ocean. Perhaps he could help you. I will try and call him for you. Stay here and wait for me!" So Manzandaba waited several days for her friend the fish eagle to return. Finally he came back to her. "Sawubona, nkosikazi!" he called. "I have returned, and I am successful! My friend, ufudu lwasolwandle, the big sea turtle, has agreed to take you to a place where you can find stories!" And with that the great sea turtle lifted himself out of the ocean.
"Woza, nkosikazi," said the sea turtle in his deep voice. "Climb onto my back and hold onto my shell. I will carry you to the Land of the Spirit People." So the woman took hold of his shell and down they went into the depths of the sea. The woman was quite amazed. She had never seen such beautiful things before in her life. Finally they came to the bottom of the ocean where the Spirit People dwell. The sea turtle took her straight to the thrones of the King and Queen. They were so regal! Manzandaba was a bit afraid at first to look at them. She bowed down before them.
"What do you wish of us, woman from the dry lands?" they asked.
So Manzandaba told them of her desire to bring stories to her people.
"Do you have stories that I could take to them?" she asked rather shyly.
"Yes," they said, "we have many stories. But what will you give us in exchange for those stories, Manzandaba?"
"What do you desire?" Manzandaba asked.
"What we would really like," they said, "is a picture of your home and your people. We can never go to the dry lands, but it would be so nice to see that place. can you bring us a picture, Manzandaba?"
"Oh, yes!" she answered. "I can do that! Thank you, thank you!"
So Manzandaba climbed back onto the turtle's shell, and he took her back to the shore. She thanked him profusely and asked him to return with the next round moon to collect her and the picture.
The woman told her family all of the things she had seen and experienced on her journey. When she finally got to the end of the tale her husband cried out with delight. "I can do that! I can carve a beautiful picture in wood for the Spirit People in exchange for their stories!" And he set to work straight away.
Manzandaba was so proud of her husband and the deftness of his fingers. She watched him as the picture he carved came to life. There were the members of their family, their home and their village. Soon others in the community heard about Manzandaba's journey and the promised stories and came also to watch Zenzele's creation take shape. When the next round moon showed her face Zenzele was ready. He carefully tied the picture to Manzandaba's back. She climbed on the turtle's back and away they went to the Spirit Kingdom. When they saw the picture the King and Queen of the Spirit people were so happy! They praised Zenzele's talent and gave Manzandaba a special necklace made of the finest shells for her husband in thanks. And then they turned to Manzandaba herself. "For you and your people," they said, "we give the gift of stories." And they handed her the largest and most beautiful shell she had ever seen. "Whenever you want a story," they said, "just hold this shell to your ear and you will have your tale!" Manzandaba thanked them for their extreme kindness and headed back to her own world.
When she arrived at the shore, there to meet her was her own family and all the people of her village. They sat around a huge fire and called out, "Tell us a story, Manzandaba! Tell us a story!"
So she sat down, put the shell to her ear, and began, "Kwesuka sukela...."
And that is how stories came to be!

Zulu Traditional Story

Marguerite Duras

2011-12-22T17:54:00.000Z

The solitude of writing is a solitude without which writing could not be produced, or would crumble, drained bloodless by the search for something else to write.
Heterosexuality is dangerous. It tempts you to aim at a perfect duality of desire.
I believe that always, or almost always, in all childhoods and in all the lives that follow them, the mother represents madness. Our mothers always remain the strangest, craziest people we've ever met.
The best way to fill time is to waste it.

Write. I can't. No one can. One must say it: I can't. And one writes.

Marguerite Duras (1914-1996)

The Stars...

2011-12-22T17:27:00.001Z

"The stars told me that everything in the world can be healed."

-Raimundo Ireneu Serra-

PJ Harvey - The Last Living Rose

2011-12-20T17:20:00.000Z

Ivan Arguelles

2011-12-20T16:48:00.026Z

“The” Secret Poem

Because can never, be, reveal
nothing despite rain and forecast
cloudy, how as many the years
rolled thunder in loose heads
margined by beauty’s self,
illusion, to exchange one book
for the map of skin and the,
other, for what has never been,
who will look askance at limitless
the sea, immense below sky equally
immense and, wounded, equivocation,
fault line zooming toward orient
to poetry’s flawed mansion, how
many housed in tiers of animal
and magnet, her face, Her eyes!
flashing iridescence & excitement
(does age matter?), this ancient
thought this manifest of eld, whose
and for what shapes green manifold
garden swarms luscious love’s again-
bite until, Dreamer! riot in the
welkin, planets aflame, puzzled page
the enigma of Minerva stalking
grasses of sleep, shakes the hand
this inch of desire in what map,
longing for the, has ever sought
ages in the Eye, what hear the Muses
then in their grotto, I am to her
what marble is to the mind, she is
to me, what, Ear, music contained
the unfurled in peals of rose and
ash, how much a horizon, how little
sea-bottom, deaf as a moon unseen,
cannot dare to Touch, following
the thread of her passage crimson,
at first, then whittled to a small
magenta, red involving, trying to
read editions azure, how far
distance extends into its Space,
initials in dissolved ink, nebula,
fossil, shifting, bone, cold,
the interior of History, causeless
her voice, Singing!

Ivan Arguelles

Ancient Knowledge

2011-12-15T16:09:00.002Z

photos by EPJ from the current exhibition at the Egyptian Museum of Berlin Neues

Los Carpinteros

2011-12-14T16:38:00.000Z

www.loscarpinteroshair.com

Dr Korotkov And The Power Of Positive Intentions

2011-12-14T14:33:00.001Z

Dr Konstantin Korotkov is a professor, and researcher, of Physics at St. Petersburg State Technical University in Russia.
When he was asked by a journalist if the energy field of a plant fluctuate, and if so, does that indicate thoughts and emotions? Dr Korotkov answered as follows;

"The energy of plants fluctuates most strongly during the day. Plants have their own cycle which is much stronger than the cycle of humans. But of course there are no thoughts. Plants have no thoughts, they just live. They live and they grow simply because that is their reason for living.
During some experiments when the plant was exposed to dangerous intentions its energy field came down. When intentions were positive, as when people came to the plant with a pot of water or a smile, the energy field of the plant increased.
So this provides one more indication that love, kindness, and care are tremendous powers from human beings that generate an immediate response in the energy field of plants. In fact, this energy field influences all environmental situations: plants, other people, water... All conditions around us." -Dr Korotkov-

The Life Of Science-Fiction Writer PHILIP K. DICK Part 1/9

2011-12-13T17:26:00.000Z

Part 9/9

2011-12-13T17:25:00.000Z

Part 8/9

2011-12-13T17:24:00.002Z

Part 7/9

2011-12-13T17:24:00.001Z

Part 6/9

2011-12-13T17:24:00.000Z

Part 5/9

2011-12-13T17:23:00.001Z

Part 4/9

2011-12-13T17:23:00.000Z

Part 3/9

2011-12-13T17:22:00.001Z

Part 2/9

2011-12-13T16:58:00.005Z

La Vida Es Un Carnaval

2011-12-10T14:31:00.000Z

The Muppets V Fox News

2011-12-06T16:57:00.004Z

Apparently The Muppets' movie is under fire, from the US channel Fox News, for choosing an oil tycoon as a villain. To Fox News that means teaching Communism to children!

This is what host Eric Bolling says: "What's actually going on here? Is liberal Hollywood using class warfare to brainwash our children?"

This from the people who have been brainwashing their audiences for at least three decades!!! Unbelievable! What a bunch of idiots!

RealmsAreWithin

2011-12-04T16:57:00.001Z

"O nobly-born, these realms are not come from somewhere outside thyself. They come from within the four divisions of thy heart, which, including its centre, make the five directions. They issue from within there, and shine upon thee. The deities, too, are not from somewhere else: they exist from eternity within the faculties of thine own intellect. Know them to be of that nature."

from the "Tibetan Book of The Dead"

Ehm.Bobi

2011-12-03T14:51:00.001Z

Ehm.Bobi is a very talented photographer with a style of her own. Her portraits are row, melancholic, and dreamy.

Check her work at http://www.wix.com/bobibensi/ehmbobi

"Nessun Luogo e' Lontano"

2011-12-03T14:29:00.001Z

"... Rae, questo e' l'ultimo anniversario che festeggio con te in modo speciale. Dai nostri amici uccelli ho imparato quanto segue...;

Non posso venire con te, perche' gia' ti sono accanto.
Tu non sei piccola, perche' gia' sei cresciuta: sei grande e giochi con il tempo e la vita, (come tutti facciamo), per il gusto di vivere.

Tu non hai compleanno, perche' sei sempre vissuta; non sei mai nata, e mai morirai.
Non sei figlia di coloro che tu chiami papa' e mamma, bensi' loro compagna d'avventure, in viaggio alla scoperta delle cose del mondo, per capirle.

Ogni regalo che ti fa un amico e' un augurio di felicita': cosi pure questo anello.

Vola libera e felice, al di la' dei compleanni, in un tempo senza fine, nel persempre.

Di tanto in tanto noi c'incontreremo, (quando ci piacera), nel bel mezzo dell'unica festa
che non puo' mai finire."

estratto da "Nessun Luogo e' Lontano" by Richard Bach

Awww the 80's!

2011-12-02T15:30:00.001Z

The Way We Used to Smile

2011-12-02T12:46:00.010Z

I am my fathers' daughter.

Together we rise so high
that nothing can touch us.
Together we learn...

You told me nothing will stay,
all will come,
and all will go.

You told me to fight
and always keep my head high

I wont lie;

sometimes has been easy,
many others has been not.

But I always try...
and never forget your words.

Every step I take into this world

is done
with the strength and pride
you told me of
so long ago...

You weren't perfect
and further was I
from perfection

So, to me,
it never really matters.

In my eyes
your mind and soul
was greater
than any sin
you'll ever choose to live.

I miss
the way we used to look upon this world
and smile..............

Father, you know one thing?
I never smiled again as we used to.......

-A.Selvaggio-

December

2011-12-01T15:26:00.001Z




"Better to write for yourself

and have no public,

than to write for the public

and have no self"


Cyril Connolly (1903-1974)

Let's hear it one more time..

2011-11-29T17:33:00.000Z

Anti-Gay Law in Russia!

2011-11-29T16:36:00.006Z

In a week Russia will pass a law which will condemn gay, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgenders people who speak openly about their sexuality. It will be illegal to say "gay" on the street, or in any public place.

Asking people to be something their are not, it's one of the most unnatural thing to ask.. Still, it seems we have been doing it from EVER! And where does it takes us? No-where! If anything, it just makes humanity even further from the Truth and the Source of what we really are.

Please support this campaign to stop the anti-gay law www.allout.org/russia_silenced/taf

Choose Wisely

2011-11-29T11:28:00.004Z

"The Truth about you is so lofty that nothing unworthy of God is worthy of you. Choose, then, what you want in these terms, and accept nothing that you would not offer to God as wholly fitting for Him"

-A Course in Miracles-

Aldous Huxley

2011-11-25T18:30:00.002Z

- A bad book is as much of a labor to write as a good one, it comes as sincerely from the author's soul.

- A belief in hell and the knowledge that every ambition is doomed to frustration at the hands of a skeleton have never prevented the majority of human beings from behaving as though death were no more than an unfounded rumor.

- A child-like man is not a man whose development has been arrested; on the contrary, he is a man who has given himself a chance of continuing to develop long after most adults have muffled themselves in the cocoon of middle-aged habit and convention.

- All gods are homemade, and it is we who pull their strings, and so, give them the power to pull ours.

- Children are remarkable for their intelligence and ardor, for their curiosity, their intolerance of shams, the clarity and ruthlessness of their vision.

- Cynical realism is the intelligent man's best excuse for doing nothing in an intolerable situation.

- Chastity - the most unnatural of all the sexual perversions.

Aldous Huxley (1894-1963)

You Live and Learn

2011-11-23T18:26:00.001Z

How many times
I landed my vessel to this ground?

Once, and many more to come.

I tried to see, I thought I win.

Never mind
how many lives

I keep on living

all gets back
to a space

where
ignorance is a bliss.

As
a lifeless doll
I walk around...

always in search,
always in time,
for the ultimately line.

Then comes the day
I sense my fear
I turn around,
And
see It shine;

"Cursed is the man who trust in men"

...You live and learn!

-A.Selvaggio-

Knower&Known

2011-11-22T16:51:00.003Z

"The knower and the known are one. Simple people imagine that they should see God, as if He stood there and they here. This is not so. God and I, we are one in knowledge"

-Eckhart-

Animate'

2011-11-20T15:39:00.003Z

"I couldn't look my children in their eyes, and say to them; you are living this way because I did not dare to fight"

Benetton "Unhate Campaign"

2011-11-18T17:37:00.001Z

The fashion company Benetton unleashed their controversial "Unhate Campaign" on Wednesday. On Thursday, the image of Pope Benedict XVI kissing Sheikh Ahmed Mohamed el-Tayed, was withdraw following protests from the Vatican.
(I guess they were not happy...oops!)

CRaWLeR

2011-11-18T16:59:00.000Z

<br>g

Copyright @ CRaWLeR

Federico Garcia Lorca

2011-11-17T15:11:00.001Z

El Canto De La Miel

La miel es la palabra de Cristo

el oro derretido de su amor.

El mas alla' del nectar,

la momia de la luz del paraiso.

La colmena es una estrella casta,

pozo de ambar que alimenta el ritmo

de las abejas. Seno de los campos

tembloroso de aromas y zumbidos.

La miel es la epopeya del amor,

la materialidad de lo infinito.

Alma y sangre doliente de las flores

condenada a traves de otro espiritu.

(Asi la miel del hombre es la poesia

que mana de su pecho dolorido,

de un panal con la cera del recuerdo

formado por la abeja de lo intimo)

La miel es la bucolica lajana

del pastor, la dulzaina y el olivo,

hermana de la leche y las bellotas,

reinas supremas del dorado siglo.

La miel es como el sol de la ma#ana,

tiene toda la gracia del estio

y la frescura vieja del oto#o.

Es la hoja marchita y es el trigo.

Oh divino licor de la humildad,

sereno como un verso primitivo!

La armonia hecha carne tu' eres,

el resume genial de lo lirico.

En ti duerme la melancolia,

el secreto del beso y del grito.

Dulcisima. Dulce. Este es tu adjetivo.

Dulce como los vientres de las hembras.

Dulce como los ojos de los ni#os.

Dulce como las sombras de la noche.

Dulce como un voz. O como un lirio.

Para el que lleva la pena y la lira,

eres sol que ilumina el camino.

Equivales a todas las bellezas,

al color, a la luz, a los sonidos.

Oh! Divino licor de la esperanza,

donde a la perfeccion del equilibrio

llegan alma y materia en unidad

como en la hostia cuerpo y luz de Cristo.

Y el alma superior es de las flores,

Oh licor que esas almas has unidos!

El que te gusta no sabe que traga

un resumen dorado del lirismo.

by Federico Garcia Lorca (1898-1936)

Albert Camus

2011-11-17T14:26:00.003Z

"All great deeds and all great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning. Great works are often born on a street corner or in a restaurant revolving door".

"Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow. Don't walk behind me, I may not lead. Walk beside me and be my friend".

"But what is happiness except the simple harmony between a man and the life he leads?"

"Ah, mon cher, for any one who is alone, without God and without a master, the weight of days is dreadful".

by French philosopher Albert Camus (1913-1960)

Moonset in California

2011-11-14T16:49:00.002Z

beautiful image by photographer Peter Essick

Jose Arguelles (1939 - 2011)

2011-11-14T16:41:00.001Z

Jose Arguelles, (born Joseph Anthony Arguelles), was a world-renowned author, artist, visionary, and educator.
Arguelles had a very unique view of the world; in this video he shares his vision on humanity and the future.

WeWonder2Much

2011-11-09T15:50:00.002Z

There is one moment
in which
you cannot deny
the magic silver-line
that runs
through your veins.

As if looking through a magnified glass
You see
every,
single,
detail,
of this web
we call it life...

The most splendid,
astonishing,
landscape,
unfolds
in your presence...
You can't help
but to see
how extraordinary
every-one
Is

Each one
in his own Universe
with his own script,
character,
and story...

Unfortunately

As sad as it sounds;
mainly
just wondering:
if we are doing enough...
or worthy of living this life...

1932 - Vanity Fair Cover

2011-11-07T17:08:00.002Z

A great illustration of Marlene Dietrich,
by the Mexican artist Miguel Covarrubias,
for the 1932 Vanity Fair cover.

ChangeAndDiving

2011-11-06T15:34:00.001Z

"Change will occur, the methodology... The presentment, the effect of how you experience the change is up to whether or not you dive with resistance or dive gracefully... But dive you will!"

Sherrie Talgeri

2011-11-06T15:00:00.001Z

"nobody ever wins, nobody ever loses"

           ........................................

and if i could immerse myself in night, i would

feel up a bathtub with bruise-skied insomnia
turn down the taps & drown
in starwater

in stars,
submerged
constellations
tucked in the crooks of knees or elbows &
    water-
fall-
ing
    down
    a
    collar-
    bone

naked as an x-ray,
the universe is loud and swimming in my pupils
i feel like God:
so maybe i am,
omniscient & wrapped in infinity;
         yeah, i could be God

swaddled in the endless milky way
with strip-lighting for skin
& something that only smells like blood,
that only taste like pennies, is sprinting
trough my superior vena cava:

a manufactured deity,
yes, made
because this has been the
making of me

but wait, though -
there was an 'if' at the beginning
of that sentence -
i didn't draw a bath
i didn't become God

so:
half-full
half-empty
not-jesus
just-human

           i am nothing

and then you say what you haven't been saying
this entire time:
yeah, well,
that could be anyone

      ........................................

by the very talented young writer
Sherrie Talgeri

Copyright @ Sherrie Talgeri 2011

Friends

2011-11-02T17:48:00.003Z

My most outstanding quality... My Friends!

November

2011-11-02T17:33:00.000Z

"Making something out of nothing, or precisely, luring something from the unconscious and giving it material form is the closest thing to real magic there is in this world"

Michael Bonestill

Poetry

2011-10-28T19:54:00.003+01:00

"Poetry begins with a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a love sickness".

-Robert Frost-

Pick a Star!

2011-10-27T18:01:00.001+01:00

Stunning photos by Thomas Zimmer

BanksyGiftToOccupyLondonProtest

2011-10-26T18:23:00.003+01:00

Yesterday morning turned up, at the anti-capitalist protest, (Occupy London), outside St. Paul Cathedral,
a version of a Monopoly board created by street artist Banksy.

Tomas Transtromer

2011-10-26T17:45:00.002+01:00

Track

2 A.M. moonlight.

The train has stopped out in a field.

Far off sparks of light from a town,

flickering coldly on the horizon.

As when a man goes so deep into his dream

he will never remember ha was there

when he returns again to his view.

Or when a person goes so deep into sickness

that his days all become some

flickering sparks, a swarm,

feeble and cold on the horizon

The train is entirely motionless.

2 o'clock: strong moonlight, few stars.

by the Swedish writer Tomas Transtromer winner of the 2011 "Nobel Prize for Literature"

Where Did All the Love Go?

2011-10-18T15:15:00.001+01:00

Omnipotent Soul

2011-10-18T14:55:00.001+01:00

"The soul is omnipotent. It may remain under a cloud for a time, but in the end it cannot fail to reach the highest state of spiritual effulgence"

Swami Paramananda

"Frozen Planet" Trailer

2011-10-18T14:36:00.000+01:00