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Human progress is analogous to a constant fight. For every fallen assumption there is a step forward.
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The stream of tears running down my face became an all mighty never stopping flood of liquid pearls, gifts to the existence of such perfect idea, the reason of the perfection which did not need to be shown, the light which needs not to be seen for it to light up things that no one will ever see, those marvelous things whose pure essence remains as long as they are not sought after, casted light upon, precisely written about. The kind of things which remain a secret.
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His name was Doom.
He who saw time and saw the world around him in decay, aging.
He who saw love and saw hearts around him being stabbed, unmercilessly.
He saw the light. The light that creates shadows, shadows that give birth to your beloved darkness. Love it because they are hating your love, because your love is a whole world next to a rotten portion of land called hate. Love their hate.
For now, Doom defines you. Doom defines your mood. And reverse it, and reverse it…
This for me, a proof of my arrogance, my ego. For you a confirmation of it. I shall be humble. Yet doomed to never be.
For all I shall understand is all I know.
Holding my knowledge inside a heart with bleeding hands.
Calling out my name upon myself,
Doom upon myself.
I made two vows to myself when I decided to set up this blog.
1st vow: I would make sure of not putting any personal name on this blog in such a way that no one could trace this blog and find the blogger. Not for shame but for love.
2nd vow: All the writings would be done by myself.
But I had a third, and most important vow for which I decided that, sometimes, the second vow should be invalidated for the sake of the third vow.
3rd vow: give everything and give it now, for the sake of sharing knowledge. Just as letters acquiring meaning by sharing space, knowledge might acquire its ultimate meaningfulness when it is shared.
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The wall. The walls.
There is a wall everywhere.
A wall surrounding everything surrounding you. A wall surrounding you.
A proper definition for a wall would be a multi dimensional borderline.
In order to draw you need to create a uni dimensional wall. To draw things you need to draw walls around them. Walls define something in terms of what that thing is not. Something like this:
Definition of A:
A is not equal to B.
There is a wall for every human. Additionally, humans create more walls around them. Whatever the reason, a wall is built up. Depending of the situation, the wall receives labels as safety, privilege, fear, courage, strength. Also, we allow other humans to build walls around us, again for a wide range of reasons.
Eventually, the building up of walls becomes an axiom and thus, the one with just one wall is considered inconsistent, irrational, nonsensical.
Sometimes, two persons, for it to be officially well looked upon, male and female, decide to merge their walls. When this happens, from the outsider point of view, it seems like the two individuals actually fused their walls into one in a process analogous to cell fusion. But if one gets to gain an insight into the two individuals, one can see that they did not actually merged. They just got so physically close that it seems that they are actually one. One might also see that both individuals, even though they keep trying to always get closer to each other maybe to some obsessive extreme, they actively repel each other for failing in attaining a complete and actual fusion.
There is a wall for every one of us. A wall between the abstract and the concrete. A wall between fiction and reality. Between reader and writer. Between you and me.
Accepting this fundamental wall as part of the same axiom that conforms our identity as individuals, does not deny our natural tendencies towards getting closer towards each other. Individuals cannot cross or destroy their or others walls. But ideas can. Ideas travel through walls with no frontier and no limitation than that of the mind of its creator. I am meant to create ideas. Ideas that resemble dim lighted spheres flying from others towards one and from one towards others.
Ideas that are the proof that the paradox of identity is not restrictive, that even limited on ourselves, alone with our own individuality, we can still get close, and appreciate that this wall of us gives birth to the unlimited potential of ideas.
Ideas that are light and life and love.
Post with 132 notes
“What’s being a librarian like?” I asked.
“What’s being a chronist like?”
“I don’t understand.” It was true.
“Neither me. Let’s leave that for a moment. You want to know what is like to be a librarian?”
“Yup.” I nodded.
“Think about a reader who, after gaining certain knowledge regarding the relationship between book, author and reader, decides to help other readers to understand the same.”
I tried to figure out what he meant.
“By your words, should I conclude that being a librarian is like another stage from being a reader?”
“Exactly. Think about a reader who, after a long time reading, finds himself in a crossroad with three paths before him to follow.”
My eyes imagined the landscape as the librarian’s voice described it. Any day, any time, anywhere. I stood there. I stood there. I will stand there. And I saw it.
“Author, reader, librarian.” Those were the three routes spreading out from the crossroad. “After a long time reading books I can become an author myself, my words the light bulbs waiting for other people to turn them on, I can become a librarian, my advice helping people make the right choice, or I can keep being a reader, travelling through the authors’ minds and meeting them for brief conversations.” Any day, any time, anywhere.
Video reblogged from A R Petersen - because you googled my name with 15 notes
Douglas Hofstadter (GEB; I Am A Strange Loop) on the role of analogy in cognition. The lecture starts at around 14 minutes. If you are a “creative writer” in any sense (song lyrics, fiction, poetry) you might find this lecture exploring the evocative / mnemonic / emotional processes behind word choice particularly interesting.
Ever used a metaphor? Ever used a simile? Ever used dramatic irony? What is the strange power such devices have to delight us as writers and readers, listeners and speakers?
Source: arpetersen
tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?
Sunny day, laughs, warm weather. Feeling happy.
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