We hold the key to survive ...

There is an answer to it all
We must embrace or we will destroy all we are ... 




Firewind - Brother's Keeper

Au revoir ...

“You Learn.

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,

And you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
And company doesn't mean security.

And you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
And presents aren't promises,

And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,

And you learn to build all your roads on today
Because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain for plans
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.

After a while you learn...
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.

So you plant your garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.

And you learn that you really can endure...

That you really are strong

And you really do have worth...

And you learn and learn...

With every good-bye you learn.”

Jorge Luis Borges

Girl in the woods by Vincent Van Gogh

I live in the tower of my own creation ...

“When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered...the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls...bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory”

Marcel Proust

Let me forget about today until tomorrow ...

“Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind,

Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,

The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,

Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.

Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,

Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,

With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,

Let me forget about today until tomorrow.” 

Bob Dylan

 
 

SACRAL NIRVANA

One hundred demons ...

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” 

Laurell K. Hamilton



Geopoliticus Child Watching the Birth of the New Man by Salvador Dali



Sweetheart ...

“And it came to me then. That we were wonderful traveling companions but in the end no more than lonely lumps of metal in their own separate orbits. From far off they look like beautiful shooting stars, but in reality they're nothing more than prisons, where each of us is locked up alone, going nowhere. When the orbits of these two satellites of ours happened to cross paths, we could be together. Maybe even open our hearts to each other. But that was only for the briefest moment. In the next instant we'd be in absolute solitude. Until we burned up and became nothing.” 

Haruki Murakami

Sins of the night ...

"We never even kissed or looked into each other's eyes. Our lips just trespassed on those inner labyrinths hidden deep within our ears, filled them with the private music of wicked words, hers in many languages, mine in the off color of my only tongue, until as our tones shifted, and our consonants spun and squealed, rattled faster, hesitated, raced harder, syllables soon melting with groans, or moans finding purchase in new words, or old words, or made-up words, until we gathered up our heat and refused to release it, enjoying too much the dark language we had suddenly stumbled upon, craved to, carved to, not a communication really but a channeling of our rumored desires, hers for all I know gone to Black Forests and wolves, mine banging back to a familiar form, that great revenant mystery I still could only hear the shape of, which in spite of our separate lusts and individual cries still continued to drive us deeper into stranger tones, our mutual desire to keep gripping the burn fueled by sound."             

Mark Z. Danielewski

Cello still  life by Lindsay Rapp

The doors of perception ...

“We live together, we act on, and react to, one another; but always and in all circumstances we are by ourselves. The martyrs go hand in hand into the arena; they are crucified alone. Embraced, the lovers desperately try to fuse their insulated ecstasies into a single self-transcendence; in vain. By its very nature every embodied spirit is doomed to suffer and enjoy in solitude. Sensations, feelings, insights, fancies—all these are private and, except through symbols and at second hand, incommunicable. We can pool information about experiences, but never the experiences themselves. From family to nation, every human group is a society of island universes.”

Aldous Huxley




In the Kingdom of the Blind by Dead Can Dance

The Kiss by Gustav Klimt

“Let silence take you to the core of life.”  

Rumi

The Kiss by Gustav Klimt

The Hypnotist ...

"It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing. It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dream, for the adventure of being alive. It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it, or fix it. I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own, if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, to be realistic, to remember the limitations of being human. It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.  I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty, every day, and if you can source your own life from its presence. I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of the lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes!” It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up, after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done to feed the children. It doesn't interest me who you know or how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back. It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you, from the inside, when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.”

Oriah Mountain Dreamer 

Sisterlove - The Hypnotist

The Persistence of Memory by Salvador Dali

Salvador Dali was a surrealist painter born in 1904 in Figueras- Spain. When he was a teenager, he became fascinated with the ideals and concepts of psychologist Sigmund Freud, which he carried over into his twenties. He liked the link between artistic works and the subconscious mind, which caused him to focus heavily on the content of his art. Dali became very aware of the things he was trying to convey to the viewer, all the while dabbling in erotic and dreamlike imagery.

One his most famous works was The Persistence of Memory, which he painted in 1931. This painting depicts several pocket watches, detached from their chains, and melting slowly on rocks and a tree branch. It is quite deceiving to the eye initially, because it is a fantasy scene placed over a very lifelike setting, the ocean. The main part of the painting is that “hard objects become inexplicably limp in this bleak and infinite dreamscape”. An interpretation of this is that things that appear strong and always purposeful come to a point where they fade away and become somewhat useless.

This painting can also be interpreted as a fanatical fear of death.The piece of flash in the centre of the picture is believed to be Dalí's self portrait. It was his way to say we are all doomed to rot in the grave. The ants symbolize the corruption, they crawl over the case of a pocket watch. Solid objects melt like cheese, it is said a plate of Camembert inspired Dali,  and seems to mean people are subject to the decay as the food they eat.

“The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the most real, the most brilliant.”  

Salvador Dalí