Pandora!

He placed all his memories in a box, sealed it tightly, and buried it in the most unreachable recesses of his mind. The Pandora radio reached deep into his psych and astounded him by the Golden autumn (Fariborz Lachini) and Instrumental imagery (Mehdi).

East, East, East

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Order_of_the_Star_in_the_East

Sounds familiar!

William James -> Annie Besant-> Krishnamurti -> David Bohm -> Karl Pribram:

"You may remember the story of how the devil and a friend of his were walking down the street, when they saw ahead of them a man stoop down and pick up something from the ground, look at it, and put it away in his pocket. The friend said to the devil, 'What did that man pick up?' 'He picked up a piece of the truth,' said the devil. 'That is a very bad business for you, then,' said his friend. 'Oh, not at all,' the devil replied, 'I am going to help him organize it.' I maintain that truth is a pathless land, and you cannot approach it by any path whatsoever, by any religion, by any sect. That is my point of view, and I adhere to that absolutely and unconditionally. Truth, being limitless, unconditioned, unapproachable by any path whatsoever, cannot be organized; nor should any organization be formed to lead or coerce people along a particular path."

You (by firstcomet)

You are just like
that orange blossom-scented breath
I so ravenously want to hold on to,
while I know ...
Soon, I'll have to let go of!


Being with you is just like indulging in chocolate; you just can't have enough of it. Even though chocolates are not the most nutritional food items, they are undoubtedly some of the sweetest and most addictive ones. The rest is like spending time at a salad bar and having to have lots of asparagus and broccolis. So is being with you; it might distract me from enriching my mind with all that society and history cares for. And I also care for them in the same logical basis that I consume asparagus and broccolis. But chocolate ... I ravenously desire chocolate!

"Every man who is not a monster, mathematician or a mad philosopher, is the slave of some woman or other." --George Eliot, Scenes of Clerical Life

Privilege of Being

Robert Hass

Many are making love. Up above, the angels in the unshaken ether and crystal of human longing are braiding one another's hair, which is strawberry blond and the texture of cold rivers. They glance down from time to time at the awkward ecstasy--it must look to them like featherless birds splashing in the spring puddle of a bed--and then one woman, she is about to come, peelsback the man's shut eyelids and says, look at me, and he does. Or is it the man tugging the curtain rope in that dark theater? Anyway, they do, they look at each other; two beings with evolved eyes, rapacious, startled, connected at the belly in an unbelievably sweet lubricious glue, stare at each other, and the angels are desolate. They hate it. They shudder pathetically like lithographs of Victorian beggars with perfect features and alabaster skin hawking rags in the lewd alleys of the novel.All of creation is offended by this distress. It is like the keening sound the moon makes sometimes, rising. The lovers especially cannot bear it, it fills them with unspeakable sadness, so that they close their eyes again and hold each other, each feeling the mortal singularity of the body they have enchanted out of death for an hour so, and one day, running at sunset, the woman says to the man, I woke up feeling so sad this morning because I realized that you could not, as much as I love you, dear heart, cure my loneliness, wherewith she touched his cheek to reassure him that she did not mean to hurt him with this truth. And the man is not hurt exactly,he understands that life has limits, that people die young, fail at love, fail of their ambitions. He runs beside her, he thinks of the sadness they have gasped and crooned their way out of coming, clutching each other with old invented forms of grace and clumsy gratitude, ready to be alone again, or dissatisfied, or merely companionable like the couples on the summer beach reading magazine articles about intimacy between the sexes to themselves, and to each other, and to the immense, illiterate, consoling angels.

http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19035

Sons of the Monkeys

Men need money to impress women. Women look for rich men to secure their babies' survival.
"Yesterday we were, and today we are! This is the will of the goddess among the sons of the goddess; what is your will, oh sons of the monkeys?"

The economy of action

"Plenty of people wish well to any good cause, but very few care to exert themselves to help it, and still fewer will risk anything in its support. 'Someone ought to do it, but why should I?' is the ever reechoed phrase of the weak-kneed amiability. 'Someone ought to do it, so why not I?' is the cry of some earnest servants of man, eagerly forward springing to face some perilous duty. Between these two sentences lie whole centuries of moral evolution." -- Annie Besant

"weak-kneed amiability" or economical thinking? Doesn't it all come down to cost benefit analysis. How does the economy of "risking everything" work?

what makes a trst

http://www.american.com/archive/2007/november-december-magazine-contents/what-makes-a-terrorist

Chocolate Rain!

“There are few enough people with sufficient independence to see the weakness and follies of their contemporaries and remain themselves untouched by them. And these isolated few usually soon lose their zeal for putting things to rights when they have come face to face with human obduracy. Only to a tiny minority is it given to fascinate their generation by subtle humor and grace and to hold the mirror up to it by impersonal agency of art." –The World As I See It, Albert Einstein.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EwTZ2xpQwpA

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chocolate_Rain