TM™

I have made a habit of maybe romanticizing doom…

literally saw a call out one time where it was like

“Culture replaces authentic feeling with words. As an example of this, imagine an infant lying in its cradle, and the window is open, and into the room comes something, marvelous, mysterious, glittering, shedding light of many colors, movement, sound, a transformative hierophany of integrated perception… and the child is enthralled and then the mother comes into the room and she says to the child, “that’s a bird, baby, that’s a bird,“ instantly the complex wave of the angel peacock iridescent transformative mystery is collapsed, into the word. All mystery is gone, the child learns, “this is a bird, this is a bird”, and by the time we’re five or six years old all the mystery of reality has been carefully tiled over with words… This is a bird, this is a house, this is the sky, and we seal ourselves in within a linguistic shell of disempowered perception…”

My body is like a field wasted by winter.

“We sense that there can be no true communion between human beings until they have in fact become beings: for to be able to give oneself one must have taken possession of oneself in that painful solitude outside of which nothing belongs to us and we have nothing to give.…And one might even say that I begin to communicate with others as soon as I begin to communicate with myself. So true it is that the most tragic solitude is that which keeps me from forcing the barrier between what I think I am from what I am: because then my consciousness has become such a stranger to my true self and my distress is so great that I can no longer say what I desire nor what I lack. Solitude is to feel the presence in oneself of a power that cannot act, but which, as soon as it is able to, obliges me to realize myself by multiplying my relations with myself and with all human beings.”