15 Oct 2005

Carlo Carra: Interventionist Demonstration

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posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

14 Oct 2005

To know the mind of God? Easy: all you need is love.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:02 am

Wind become the breath I breathe, light enter into my eye a vision of what is above us. Even in darkness, I absorb things; even in silence, my ears feel the hollow of these hallways. I have lit candles all along the way, and some have even given light to those who came my way — quite by accident. I have given hope to a tragic few, whose names I must not name, that they had a hero in this ordinary soul, for those who were great were too far over them…. And I have dreamed of light that filled the marrows of my bones, erasing all that I pretend to be, to reveal that which was beneath all the façades, nothing but that which looked out from his I am. And I exhale the breath that joins again the breezes, and all I need of flight is love, love being everywhere to any of we who would believe….

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

13 Oct 2005

Murmur (7 of 7)

And the brutality of it all happens only behind the screen, in a nullspace, and it doesn’t ever seem real,
even when it’s happening to you. And we can if we want imagine so much worse; and in fact, we can imagine
so much the better than we have ever likely observed; but for all our visions, do we never act upon any of them.
And we are not so much lost as milling around, waiting impatiently for something we forgot what it was,
sometime back in childhood — though in cruel, existential irony, it might be our childhood itself which is that thing.
And our enlightenment, our own sound of one hand clapping: detachment from all things by going into shock,
desireless by not seeing the point of it: lo, meandering outside the cycle of life and death, carefully untouched by destiny.

(1 of 7)
(2 of 7)
(3 of 7)
(4 of 7)
(5 of 7)
(6 of 7)

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

11 Oct 2005

Purity of heart and simplicity are of great force with Almighty God, who is in purity most singular, and of nature most simple.

– St. Gregory the Great

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:02 am

Murmur (6 of 7)

Are we bitter? We sit here amazed at ourselves. The dream that was lost was before our time, though we
sensed that something important must have happened, just before we came along, even if we missed
the dance, and were left only to clean up the cups and plates of the party we would only hear stories about.
And what we are amazed with is so mundane to think of: that we got by, that we survived, when we were fed
so little meaning to sustain us. We believed in a thousand things with half a heart, desiring something
we knew not how to put into words, for the words were taught us without our experiencing what they could mean.
We have not even the passion to curse anyone; we are not bitter: we never stewed long or hot enough.

(1 of 7)
(2 of 7)
(3 of 7)
(4 of 7)
(5 of 7)

to be concluded…

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

10 Oct 2005

Murmur (5 of 7)

“They don’t make ’em like they used to”: we haven’t ever known first hand what this statement meant,
for in our past, there was no golden, Edenic solidity where the idylls of youth were ever truly free from care,
no point where there wasn’t something wrong, really wrong with the world, and we were not aware of it;
how we were convinced back from our youth that the earth was dying, or at least, continuously sick —
wondering, we, how the generations before left such a morbid ruin to us, not ever thinking how we would
make the excuse that they did, how it was like that when we got here — when we slowly began to realize
how arrogant we imagined, that we would watch the end of the world happen, and stay unchanged.

(1 of 7)
(2 of 7)
(3 of 7)
(4 of 7)

to be continued…

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

8 Oct 2005

I have heard it said that death (I think) is no parenthesis — but it really makes for punctuation, to be sure.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:02 am

Giacomo Balla: Flight of the Swallows

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posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

7 Oct 2005

When does that realization come, that not everything is something to play with? That things have uses outside of their capacity for our enjoyment? Only recently have I realized it, though it must have happened years ago: I look around, and very few things are toys any more. And the most toy-like things, like my computer — even these have their main uses other than as playthings. When do these purposes occur to us, when a box is merely something to hold other things, to be stored or shipped, and no longer a piece of a fortress of solitude? I guess it comes down to it that childhood really does end, however we may feel that we have never really grown up. But it is not a sad thing, because so much more can be done with a world that is no longer filled merely with toys. With a world where things have function other than just to amuse us for a little while, and then be forgotten.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

6 Oct 2005

If you have failings, ask God often whether it be His honor and pleasure to take them away from you; for without Him you can do nothing. If he takes them away, thank Him; but if He does not do that, you will bear it no more, however, as the defect of a sin, but as a great trial with which you are to gain merit and practice patience. You should be content, whether or not He accords you His gift.

– Meister Eckhart

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:02 am

The lightning cracks as if to drive the rain forever on.
Doom arrives not in sunlight, to my thinking, but in the downpour.
The end cometh neither by fire nor ice, but endless water….

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

4 Oct 2005

I dream that I lived my whole life over, yet make the same mistakes — just to see what they would be like the second time around.

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:02 am

3

What is love? We all at one time or another have thought we knew. But perhaps it is so simple a thing that we will none of us ever understand it. You may trace the outline of its paradoxes, like when we are most in love, the least we are able to express what it truly is, then realize that to think of it in such a manner — that of some intellectual conundrum — is to miss the point entirely. And somehow, to reduce it just to a feeling… this would be as if to say that a vision of a thing is as good as the thing itself: for all we who do believe in love, it is a realer phenomenon than speaks any sweetness in the soul. For perhaps to best know love is to know the fruits of love, as merely to say that love can move mountains is nothing compared to seeing that mountain actually moved…. But then, when we do this, it is then only to know love’s most outward appearance. Can we hope for better? Or can we say, at most, “Love is love,” and to shrug our shoulders — that we must all mean something close enough to each other’s ideas of it when we speak of it — is this all we can do? Or is it to say, “Love is love,” and have that to mean that anything we do with our heart in the right place — that is love? Or is it, finally, “Love is love,” why are you asking of what you already know, in a question that can never be answered — for what is love? Instead of all this, perhaps the time would be better spent in moving mountains.

(1 & 2)

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

3 Oct 2005

Murmur (4 of 7)

When exactly we accepted injustice as the status quo of our existence, it can only be conjectured, and it was
not childhood’s end that brought this interpretation into its inevitability — for we became dazed long before
we had to fend for ourselves: even when we had time enough and worlds, in the reality we faced, did we
at least always pay lip service to the mammon of cynicism, the wealth of its resignation, even when
in the deepest that we ever dared to go within ourselves, we always believed in the movie endings,
that somehow, good would triumph over evil — all we who had always had the luxury of believing
that we knew this secret of the universe — though not to know why sometimes it was so obviously wrong.

(1 of 7)
(2 of 7)
(3 of 7)

to be continued…

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

1 Oct 2005

...there is a communion with God that asks for nothing, yet asks for everything… And he who seeks the Father more than anything He can give, is likely to have what he asks, for he is not likely to ask amiss.

– George MacDonald

posted by John H. Doe @ 12:02 am

Umberto Boccioni: Charge of the Lancers

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posted by John H. Doe @ 12:01 am

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