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Altar of Art

Last post 08-26-2006, 10:09 AM by LIghtfield. 56 replies.
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  •  07-12-2006, 8:51 PM 1362 in reply to 1320

    • jaysyouruncle is not online. Last active: 08-16-2006, 11:41 AM jaysyouruncle
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    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    Thanks, Justin---I enjoyed that.
    Straight up non-dual poetry. It helps to be reminded.
    I especially liked the line "I encourage those who would rather faint."

    (that's me---perhaps you could substitute "sleep in" for "faint" on occasion.

    Jay

    "I always try to get up every morning..." Jimi Hendrix
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  •  07-13-2006, 8:17 AM 1380 in reply to 1362

    • antlion is not online. Last active: 08-23-2006, 11:57 AM antlion
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    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    Hi, Balder...that was a nice story - personally, I experienced a sense of shear renewal.

    Here's a couple of my shorter poems...

    Lover's Nap
    Between here and there,
    it appears,
    I have slipped
    a cog, or two
    between daylight and night
    I have reeled and dipped
    with thoughtful recourse,
    in slight retrospect,
    dancing from petal to pond
    too deep, again
    in search of truth or fear
    and blissfully fond
    of passing thoughts,
    recanting as I yawn,
    not here, not there
    but gone,
    acquitted and forgiven,
    certainly free
    but not, quite.

    Lucid Dream
    Entheogens caress
    interweaving minds
    awakening fears
    held firm
    by anchored thoughts
    and teasing, tossing,
    conflicting signs
    until
    a multitude of days
    engulf the vacancies
    of rooms filled with
    closing walls
    and flesh eating
    alligators screaming
    obscenities in your
    ears
    giving way to
    beautiful fields
    of green glades
    waving at the sun.
    You have arrived.
    You have arrived!


    Thanks,
    Bruce
    __________________________________
    "Television must be a medium; because it isn't rare, and it's certainly not well done."
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  •  07-15-2006, 7:51 AM 1462 in reply to 1325

    • perera is not online. Last active: 08-26-2006, 7:11 PM perera
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    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    Attachment: 1.jpg
    if image is appearing squished, please click on it.

    Nomali @ ISC
    Project Manager

    ~Save the Earth- it's the only planet with Chocolate!

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  •  07-15-2006, 7:53 AM 1463 in reply to 1462

    • perera is not online. Last active: 08-26-2006, 7:11 PM perera
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    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    Attachment: 4.jpg
    if image is appearing squished, please click on it.


    Nomali @ ISC
    Project Manager

    ~Save the Earth- it's the only planet with Chocolate!

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  •  07-15-2006, 3:24 PM 1470 in reply to 839

    • nicksflicks is not online. Last active: 08-15-2006, 10:21 PM nicksflicks
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    Re: Altar of Art

    I would love to add my art, but attachments have been disabled and I don't know how to add the image otherwise.

    .·°¯°·.¸.->Nikki<-.¸.·°¯°·.
    _______________________

    ¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯There is no THEM, only US¯`·.¸¸.·´¯`·.¸¸.·´¯

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  •  07-16-2006, 10:50 AM 1491 in reply to 1362

    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    Thank you for your response Jay - "Straight up non-dual poetry" , and now another one "for the road".... But first a brief "explanation" of "how" the writing occurs....

    I have compiled a selection of pieces that have been written while in a Non-Dual state. These selections are what can be called "ecstatic state prose" or "ecstatic state proclamations" (a different form of ESP) they "appear" fully formed in the Mind, and are typically written as quickly as I can move the pen.... as such, they can be viewed as gifts or "prasad" of the SELF.

    This writing is therefore, from one perspective, not "my work", but rather the spontaneous result of immersion in certain experiential states and prolonged "meditation" upon our "Real" condition - the condition/realization of I-I....                                                            

     

                                             Causal Confession

     

                                  Now....All forms have vanished

                         Yet  I remain the one from whom all arises

                          You see, my vision issues from the SELF                       

                                         Today I speak to you

                                      My speech reflected back....

                                                  Now I see!

                            What will be remembered when "I" die?

                                   History's glance has dissolved....

                                         Nothing left to ponder

                                                    I inhale

                                                    I exhale

                               Could it be I AM the breath of God?

                                           All speech is heresy!!

                   In the end as at the beginning, only silence prevails

                    I was told I was born and destiny would finish me....

                        I was told there was something for me to do

                      After my dissolution what will be left to dispute?

                  I have confessed the paradox of the one who was born

                            Therefore, I am always already forgiven....

                    No absolution is sufficient to absolve me of my sins

                                        I am without redemption....

                                             I was never born!

                   My birth and death were the fruit of the Tree of Life

                              My crucifixion was at my own hands!

                                My blood courses through all veins

                                          I was never forsaken....

    Therefore, my hands are the the hands of every human being -

                                       that ever lived and died....

                                Yes - those hands were my own....

                              If this is not sufficient to Enlighten you

                                 There is nothing more left to say....

                                                 Good day!

                                                                       


    The First And Foremost Wonder in This World Is the Thought, "I Am Different From God!" There Is No Greater Wonder Than This.

    Ramana Marharshi
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  •  07-16-2006, 11:27 AM 1493 in reply to 1491

    • perera is not online. Last active: 08-26-2006, 7:11 PM perera
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    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    Justin,

    Wow!

    Thanks!


    Nomali @ ISC
    Project Manager

    ~Save the Earth- it's the only planet with Chocolate!

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  •  07-16-2006, 1:39 PM 1500 in reply to 1493

    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    That was beautiful, Justin.  Thank you!

    I have a poem or two I'd like to share here, but I will have to locate them first.  For now, I'll share something I wrote for my son -- a prose-poem fantasy of sorts, imagining myself in another incarnation, speaking to my son at that time, or even now...

    ~*~

    ~The Lama's Letter to His Son~

    My son, as I write this, I am perched on a mountain in the Himalayan air. In a few days the old man's phurba will divide me until there's nothing there. Beyond the time we've spent together, what is left to say? I am the ray of light, and your mother the crystal that sparked the prism of your smile. If you cry for me, my heart-son, be sure you cry the Nile: Hold nothing back, but with thanks, feed the children and the crocodiles that gather on your banks.

    My child, this world is a place of shadows, but it is our only home; it is the concrescence of desire and the spaciousness of Om. In the brilliance of their meeting, what is left to say? I found myself in the present motion of my hand, tapping grain by careful grain the colored shapes of sand, brilliant as the disk of sun; and I'll give myself to the Eastern wind when it lifts up what I've done.

    You are not with me, my son, but I'm sure you hear these snoring trumpets shake the monastery walls. They are the voices of mountains, thoughts, and waterfalls. When you see where they are pointing, what is left to say? The self is Gift, and Gift is the thunder of the deep that splits the mighty world in two and makes the statues weep.

    Listen, my son, I have only a few more things to say!

    Emaho! Life is wonderful and pure. Know that what I've failed to give you, is what is already yours. Like the quick-turning eddy gathering leaves in the stream, we hold our bodies only for the briefness of a dream. Like the silver sides of fish that flash a moment and fade, the endless stream of mind is unceasingly displayed.

    Love knows no direction. It is the original clarity of presence, the fire that fills all of space. In the immensity of the world, love is the intimacy that is already here, prior to our moving away. But when we return to love, it is that movement too. It is inescapable, and in that, love is ferocious: In the end, it will consume us all.

    Hold to these things, my son, and we will never be far. What I am in my deepest, you already are.

    ~*~

    Best wishes,

    Bruce


    May the boundless knowledge that time presents and space allows illuminate the native perspectives of your original face.

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  •  07-16-2006, 2:50 PM 1502 in reply to 1500

    • maryw is not online. Last active: 08-28-2006, 8:46 PM maryw
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    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    Wonderful, Balder/Bruce.

    I am really savoring this particular section . . .

    Love knows no direction. It is the original clarity of presence, the fire that fills all of space. In the immensity of the world, love is the intimacy that is already here, prior to our moving away. But when we return to love, it is that movement too. It is inescapable, and in that, love is ferocious: In the end, it will consume us all.

    Hold to these things, my son, and we will never be far. What I am in my deepest, you already are.

    Mary


    Let the beauty we love be what we do.
    There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

    ~Rumi
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  •  07-16-2006, 5:02 PM 1507 in reply to 1493

    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    Thank you Nomali - I am glad you received something from it and I continue to enjoy the presentations of your art....

    Take Care,

    Justin


    The First And Foremost Wonder in This World Is the Thought, "I Am Different From God!" There Is No Greater Wonder Than This.

    Ramana Marharshi
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  •  07-16-2006, 5:06 PM 1508 in reply to 1500

    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    Thank you Bruce.... That was also a beautiful story - I would feel "satisfied" to utter such words to my own Son....

    Best Regards,

    Justin 


    The First And Foremost Wonder in This World Is the Thought, "I Am Different From God!" There Is No Greater Wonder Than This.

    Ramana Marharshi
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  •  07-17-2006, 3:02 PM 1528 in reply to 1502

    • maryw is not online. Last active: 08-28-2006, 8:46 PM maryw
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    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    Geez . . . I wrote this about 16 years ago, when I was experimenting with paganism and protest poetry.

    Praise-Poems for Yemaya

    (Yemaya is the Yoruba ocean-goddess--goddess of the moon, dreams, fertility, and intuitive wisdom. Of her it is said "there is no mountain of trouble that Yemaya cannot wear down; no sickness of heart that she cannot wash clean, no desert of despair that she cannot flood with hope.")

    O Yemaya who washes wind

    O Yemaya who roughens earth

          you yawn and the moon comes up.

    O Yemaya the pulling blue

    O Yemaya the silver shudder

        bathe us in your magnificent weather!         

    Yemaya with your elephant ears

       your thundermouth

       your forest of bells

    Yemaya in your thousands of veils!

    Even these inland people

    learn the scent of sleeping whales.

    *   *   *   *   *   *

    As if you could be kept

    As if you weren't Mother

    As if they could forget the salt-milk of their birth

       the queenkillers called you mistress.

    O danger-blushing Yemaya!

    How long will you cry for your lost children?

    It is true: slaves were dragged across your skin...

       now they map your secret crevices

       detonate poisons in your deeps

    They mine your gut for oil

    ignore your dangerous nausea

    leave you foaming shark blood and cancer.

    Still, they beg your forgiveness

    at the heart of the feeding frenzy . . .

    *   *   *   *   *   *   *   

    O rock-caressing Yemaya!

    The arching grace of your arms

    beckons a silence that listens.

    Yemaya of setting suns and rising moons!

    Dreamspinner Yemaya!

       Cast down your night web

       Weave our eyelashes with woolen gold.

    Speckled Yemaya, old weatherwoman Yemaya!

       Hurricane the silt from our spirits

       Flood our nights with fresh sea-apples.

    *   *   *   *   *   *   *

    Yemaya, luminous flower . . .

       you always die dripping seed

       during a twilight dawn.

                                                                                       


    Let the beauty we love be what we do.
    There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

    ~Rumi
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  •  07-17-2006, 3:11 PM 1529 in reply to 1528

    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    Mary, that's just fabulous!  What a wonderful pagan you made!  If you don't mind, I want to shoot a copy of it off to my mother ... who is a pagan still.  :)  I think it will "sing" in her as much as it did in me.
    May the boundless knowledge that time presents and space allows illuminate the native perspectives of your original face.

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  •  07-17-2006, 4:06 PM 1530 in reply to 1529

    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    Here's a poem from memory.  I wrote it in '94 or '95 while living at a Krishnamurti center in India.  It was originally entitled, "The Trail in Lights."  I may have strayed a little from some of the original words and formatting, but it's pretty close...

    Evening by the Ganges

    The light of the evening falls
    Into the spaces between the leaves
    Till that is all you see: points of evening, ablaze,
    As though the fire were drawn
    From all things,
    From mango and muchkand and stone,
    And you cannot tell the light
    From the singers in the trees,
    Leaping from limb to limb,
    And you cannot tell the singers
    From the sun, broken
    On the broad face
    of the river --

    All things speaking the same bright tongue,
    Meaning born of leaps of light.

    Long-fingered leaves reach
    Into the pink evening,
    Love moves out from my palms,
    And the sun in the tree
    In sudden shivers flashes
    Through the body, through the brain,
    And these words come, like Ganga
    Throwing back the sun,

    Like when an angel kisses your ear in sleep
    And makes light in the body leap

    And you come undone.

    ~*~

    Best wishes,

    Balder


    May the boundless knowledge that time presents and space allows illuminate the native perspectives of your original face.

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  •  07-17-2006, 7:50 PM 1543 in reply to 1530

    • ats is not online. Last active: 08-28-2006, 7:41 PM ats
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    Re: Altar of Art: Another Offering

    http://www.soundclick.com/zentai

    Here's my "experiments" with sound.  I use fretted and unfretted guitars.  I try to practice just-tone intonation (12-tone scale is imperfect).  I present mostly ideas, and mostly ideas that are alternative to what is normally composed, so there's a lot of tension.  Later, I will combine these ideas with more conventional combinations to balance out the tension.

    I have an idea of "integral composition", but my musical sense is still in it's infancy.  Enjoy my mad scientist experiments.  If I got enough bands to sign on with my "integral composition", we could start the next wave of avant-garde alternative music. (this idea includes integral lyrical composition as well as musical composition)

    Why just-tone intonation?  I feel that it resonates so much better than the 12-tone scale.  (singers usually harmonize on just-tone intonation instead of the 12-tone system, which is why vocal harmonies sound different from chords played on an instrument.)

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