Full Moon in Aries

Yoga teaches mindful rearrangement of anatomical and perceptive relations throughout the entire existential body down to its subtlest particularities, through breath pattern exploration, and potentially breath surfing to other perceptive dimensions. Breath (specific existential movement patterns) is characteristic of all formed (form) and forming (concept) phenomena, all embedded into a specific web of perception (diverse ecosystems, species variation).

In terms of pranayama (breathing techniques), which is more helpful on the path to liberation through practice? To manipulate the breath consciously, imposing its karma (consequences) onto the physiological structure (for example, cat-cow breath/body patterns)? Or, to merely observe the breath as it is in meditation, as in Vipassana (Buddha), and allow for the physiological structure to sort itself out by not intervening at all? And, which is the greater act of faith on the path to liberation? What if liberation is merely matter of perception, and indeed available in every moment? What are we experiencing while suffering? But a passing phenomenon? Then liberation is not suffering. But joy is also a passing phenomenon. Thus, liberation is not joy? What lies beyond sorrow and joy? Peace of mind? What a blissful residence indeed must be a peaceful mind (physiology) to a sadaka’s (seeker) soul. If it were so easy as to slip into any moment at the moment, then why is yoga so complex? And like it, other arts demanding study, practice and dedication. Is liberation an act of art (the mastering of a technique that gives structure to creative expression, form to spirit)? Liberation, a magic trick, learned through trials, that makes the woes of humanhood disappear? That liberates consciousness of its own games of folly? Games that humans share amongst each other, not unlike germs, for better or worse.

Half Moon (in Capricorn)

Am recognizing past misconceptions about the spine, amongst other things. Samskaras? Habit patterns? Am attempting to rearrange, ever so subtly, lumbar* and thoracic** relations. It’s taken over two years of conscious study, practical effort, and countless lessons with great masters to arrive at this juncture. And this only after having crossed many more minor and major physiophilosophical junctures. These experiences are often nameless, the are only felt (in body, mind and spirit). Nameless because I feel a concept without form. Forms being words, symbols, language, structures etc.(in terms of anatomy (body maps) and beyond). Nameless because I feel what is formed without conscious conceptio. Body sensations manifesting in the flesh I never conceived to my knowledge. The question is, how to perceive one's own existential form? How to perceive what lies beyond (either way outwardly or inwardly)? A conceptual relationship of the self with an extensive manifest reality (nature) exists. And a formal relationship with "reality" exists also. Bound by biology, physics and ecosystems, forms inter-are. ____________________________________________

*lumbar axis exhale breath pattern (half-cow); pelvic floor, lower torso musculature "awakening"; hold inhale form (**) during cow bottom consciousness

**thoracic axis inhale breath pattern (half-cat) (inflated rib cage, expansion towards the back, upper torso musculature "awakening"); hold exhale form (*) during cat top consciousness _____________________________________________

Take a teacher’s lesson and find a way to study it - through questioning, contemplation, practice etc.

Dancers are philosophers. 


 Anyone who moves is, Anyone who makes of movement art.

The biological vessel has peculiar responses to the experiences it is subjected to, as well as phenomena surrounding it. This dynamic merits more examination. But there is so mucho going on all the time, that is is difficult to keep track of it all.

Every time he steps into the room I seem to lose my balance. How do I stay balanced even in his nerve racking presence? How do I not get turned on and distracted from the spiritual quest of liberation? Is existence indeed only composed of nature (i.e. hormones, biological structures, the manifest universe (formed conceptializations?))? Or does something lie beyond? And what is that like? Must conceptualize, must give form. Why? To live, to survive? What if what lies beyond is formless and deceptualized? How can it be understood from a place of form (beig alive, in a body, on a planet, a part of the physical universe etc.)? All that is not known remains a mystery. No mystery can be eternal, can it? Form conceptualized... formless concepts ... unconpetualized formlessness ... mysteries that can be solved?

Sometimes a teacher’s brilliance is realized in the repercussions of the lessons given, the effects these have over time, not necessarily in the moment of instruction. What carries over to the context outside of the classroom? What remains in consciousness, what travels through the unconscious? All input requires digestion. All effort (spirit) demands rest (organic limitations).

Are other spirtiaul scriptures around the world, in structure similar to the Bible in terms of being a collection of writings realized over time by countless authors and even more countless storytellers? Or do traditions with an unfiltered core exist, that have been carried over faithfully, consistently, obstinately from generation to generation?

Grauzahn Wilderbart (Märchenfigur) Greytooth Wilderbeard (Fairy-tale figure)

Prämens / premenstrual: cramps, heightened sensitivity, grumpiness, sore breasts, bloating, less energy, biological low (biolow/Biotief)

red, white and blue

Calor. Heat. Hitze. Just passed the Cancer New Moon at the height of summer. Went to a midsummer nightdream party over the weekend. Wore a fabulous short red velvet spaghetti strap dress. Braless. And tolerable black high heeled sandals. Even though they made my feet feel like blocks of stone on the dancefloor. But the breasts hung around freely. It felt good. A salute to Twentieth Century Feminism! And a nod of honor to Ancient Mothers and Grandmothers. "Always wear a bra! Even to sleep!" Warned my Mexican grandma, who had gorgeous breasts in her seventies. I totally undersand why female humans invented braziers. And I'm grateful every day. But oh does it feel liberating to let it all hang free sometimes.

Was in the mood for cold white wine. Had my gentle companion put in ice towards the end. According to my dad, white wine doesn't make you smell of alcohol. And if there's something he knows well, it's all matters "booze". Wine, liquor, beer and all things spiritus and demons. Father and I. We are a reflection to each other. One that is different though it appears to be the same. I had some sips of chilled white wine to cool the spirits. To lighten the mood. Or make it more grave. Take your pick! I know stuff because of all the stuff my dad knows. What I know is that the father line goes as far back as the mother line. 

Astrologer José Millán talked about Cancer in an interesting way in the context of all the transpersonal transformational energies facing the world, not least because of Pluto's final return to Capricorn before moving into Aquarius. Capricorn: father, social structures, institutions, working in the world, career, presenting outwardly etc. Cancer: mother, home, heritage, family, going within and being from within. He suggests to look at the inevitable changes (upheavals, revolutions, wars and the crumbling of sinstitutional society) not with fear. Cancerian energy invites to understand the family (in all its varied constellations) as a cell of society with timeless information. Eons of evolutionary intelligence with the ability to act as a force of renewal ever reinvigorating, reinventing and restructuring organisms from deep within. An inspirational driving force born out of individual collective intelligence. I do believe that this kind of timeless intelligence has enabled us strange human creatures to come thus far to begin with. I have faith that our cellular collective intelligence will renew the human organism to show up in the world not as fucking assholes but the loving beings that we were always meant to be. Why did we fuck up so bad all over time and space? God knows. This is a question for another time. For now, I am happy to revel in the holy inheritance of cellular intelligence that drives my organism with hope, dedication and courage into the ever changing transpersonal ocean of terrestrial destiny, as Cancer season closes out.

I have discovered assymetries and irregularities in my body that speak of weird old habits, afflictions and other things. Creating new customs through physical and spiritual retraining and refraiming is taking interesting turns. In a fascinating cylical fashion old patterns demand revisiting. Depression and foolishness rear their clownish faces. I laugh and cry. I despair and rejoice. Again and again. Yes, Buddha, rolling in pleasure and pain.

I lost a tampon that night. Let's face it, women have been putting "things" in their vaginas for eons. The physician mentioned that a patient once had lost a tampon while twerking pantylessly wearing a skirt. I had worn an undergament beaneath the red velvet dress.  And I hadn't twerked. Must have taken it out automatically when I went to pee, forgot about it and freaked out. My mother had Alzheimer's, I lamented to doctor and nurse. Ouch. Watch out for the symptoms, he advised. Yeah, like forgetting?! :@ 

Husband assured me that it was not Alzheimer's but wineheimer's. Remeber how you almost threw up in the front yard? No. Remember how you struggled getting up the stairs? No. Damnit. Sounds like Alzheimer's to me.

Years ago, after having birthed my second child, I was traumatized by a lost tampon. Suddenly a strong, awful smell. Gyno didn't take a look. Prescribed strong medicine, pills and a lotion, instead. Husband giving me eyes like "You bringin' home an STD (sexually transmitted disease)?" Dude, f*ck you. I wish I'd been... damnit. At least then all this theater would have been worth it. Eventually discovered the lost tampon myself while applying the salve three times daily. Had accidently pushed it in with another tampon. Forgotten about it. Doctor and nurse said it can happen sometimes. Glad I'm not the only woman out here with these problems.

Well, that I made it up the stairs almost alone is a good thing. The gentle man used to have to carry me all the way from the train station to the old Berliner apartment up three old flights of stairs. 

Another thing that coincided with the New Moon is the movement of the lunar nodes into the Aries (North) and Libra (South) Axis, where they will stay until January 2025. The last time the nodes were on this axis was from December 2004 to June 2006. 

"Welcome to the Carnival"
begun 2005, abandoned 2006

2005: Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Parents. Diplomacy. Internship. Choice for love. Seattle, US. Study of Fine Arts (Painting, Drawing, Dance). First home together. First yoga class.
Nexistentialism is born. First Nexistential Carnival publication @ Seattle Central Community College (SCCC) Women's Forum. Visits to Bruce Lee's grave, who I perceived as an inspirational thinker and artist. 

2006: Broken back (L5) from club dancing in red high heels on my 25th birthday. Goodbye Seattle. Hello Germany. Frankfurt am Main. Parents. Frankfurt an der Oder on the border with Poland. Europa Universität Viadrina to study Cultural Science (Master of Arts). Wohngemeinschaft (shared student living). Second and third home together. Hot, dry summer. German back surgery with flirty flower power surgeon ("If you sleep with the same woman twice, you're from the establishment.")

Checkpoint Now: Marriage (Libra), xy home together; pursruit of personal path (Aries), studying to teach yoga, training ballet (dance) and kung fu (martial arts) as well. Triverses. Maturing Nexistentialist. Still not sure what philosophy is. Wondering about the Gadfly of Athens (stirring up the town with philosophy) and the meanings of (eu)daemonia. Every once in a while there seems to be a teacher that passes knowledge directly to students, as opposed to, say, writing it down. But it gets written and interpreted anyway (i.e. the Bible and countless other arts). Just gotta be able to follow back the line to a moment of truth, regardless of where or how it occured. After all, the line is ongoing thus far. Except, it is not one line. It is the entretejido (interwoveness) of countless lines of interpretations. I made peace with Christianity and continue to study (South) Eastern Philosophy and Spirituality. In fact, I love the whole world of human perspectives, which despite their differences share so much. Anywhere on the globe. I love Jesus, and Buddha, too.

On the (Human) Art of Nature / Zur (Menschlichen) Kunst der Natur / Respecto al Arte (Humano) de la Naturaleza

Enamored with poetry, with art and
the creative expression of the terrestrial mind.
I die without writing.
Without lyricism, the world just is not.
Without music or movement, why even be?
I love art.
But what is it?
This question tears me up inside.
Who is Art?
A Goddess, or
merely a simple human being?

Sound coming from the smartphone distorted distinctly by the wind. Is the music that I'm hearing real? Or is it but a figment of human imagination? For, as a human being, one never dreams alone. Everything is something someone sometime somewhere imagined. Who imagined all this? A goddess or a god?
The cup was surely made thanks to the desire of people past dreaming while cupping their hands to hold water, berries or seeds. Dreaming of holding water, berries and seeds beyond their hands. Who put the cup on the Platonic shelf of concepts? A concept that continues to create countless forms for holding substances beyond cupping human hands. What goddess or god dreamt up the concept called *cup*? Dreamt up shelters that have taken humans beyond forests, trees and caves? Who first dreamt of the comfort of running water or deliciously seasoned food? Who yearned for cool in the heat and warmth in the cold? We all have, haven't we? Not unlike Nature herself with her rivers, hot springs, pools, fires and caves. Have we humans merely desired to be like Her and create our visions, our versions of waterflow, light, matter, heat, cold, birth, destruction, day and night? And who imagined water, fire, metal, wind, wood and stone? Please tell me. Who?

"Grandmother Moon" - Pinterest

Verliebt in die Poesie, in die Kunst und
in den kreativen Asudruck des irdischen Geistes.
Ohne Schrift sterbe ich.
Ohne Lyrik ist die Welt einfach nicht.
Ohne Musik, ohne Bewegung warum bin ich?
Ich liebe die Kunst.
Aber was ist sie?
Diese Frage zerreist mich innerlich.
Wer ist die Kunst?
Eine Göttin, oder
bloss ein stinknormaler Mensch?

Enamorada de la poesia, del arte y
de la expresión creativa de la mente terrenal.
Sin escritura me muero.
Sin el lirismo no hay mundo.
Sin música, sin moviemento ¿para qué ser?
Amo el arte.
¿Pero qué es?
Esta pregunta me desgarra por dentro.
¿Quien es Arte?
¿Una Diosa, o
simplemente un ser humano común y corriente?

Triple Training Tuesday

Cancer season. High summer (Hochsommer). Long days. Moody moon mother. Approaching New Moon. Moody Monday. Monthly female biology taking place. First day of bleeding crying liters of tears. Yearning for dead mother. Searching for memories. Remembering Alzheimer's as a slow losing, detaching, letting go. This feels spiritual somehow. Makes me think of Buddhism, Yoga, Vipassana and Zen. Mother was a philosopher, a mystic, a spiritual creature. Why remember? To cry in the present and laugh at the past? If memory serves. Why not serve the present moment instead? Anatomical onslaught massaging the entire flesh with yoga and study and dance and more yoga. And a lot of activity at home. Duties of the house like cooking, washing, rearing children, and tending to marriage/partnership demand attention. Forgetting all the bawling from the day before. Thankful for the passing of another wave. The worst is over -- when the eye-sockets make waterfalls. The bleeding will naturally follow its course. The breasts feel less heavy thanks to training and brasiers. I did feel odd with them at ballet today. Then I try not to pay attention. But the body never stops paying attention. Now I know this. So I cannot help but look again and again. Look at the breath. Feel the sensations. Becoming aware of the inner strings that hold it all together. Oh, and there are countless strings! And we (humans) try again and again to paint a picture of this magnificent, mysterious and transparent body - individually, collectively and universally. Mapping the famously little known human body that is actually well known by all. Only if you look. But don't you get caught up with it! Except when you are training for the moment. For that moment, that one instant, no matter how fleeting, that flash of all-knowing. Complete awareness of the body interwoven with the threads of time and space, of fractals and movement and stillness threading through emptiness. Complete absorption. 

Iyengar says: "Repeated effort made with a thorough understanding of the art and philosophy of yoga and with perfect communion of body, mind and soul is not a mechanical practice but a religious and spiritual one."* What does it take to understand the art and philosophy of yoga - or anything for that mattter? It takes study. To look repeatedly, to search, to practice, to remember with religious fervor. 

And it also demands detachment. Iyengar goes on to explain, that Hatha Yoga blends the forces of practice (remembering) and renunciation (forgetting). Ha, the sun, is the "life-force, the seer, the very being". Purusha? Tha, the moon, is "consciousness, the reflected light of the seer, citta" (consciousness = mind + intelligence + ego). Prakriti and the three gunas? The three fates (Greek mythology) threading the destiny of human kind? Yes, like a moody moon. Sometimes visible, sometimes gone. Hatha yoga blends these forces, which are merged in the seer (Iyengar, 2002). In order to see, one must look. And on the night of the New Moon neither moon nor sun will be seen despite their presence. Purusha, why look at all?

Because if you're not observing, you don't exist. Since you have to see to be, then might as well study yourself until you realize yourself as you really are.

Llorando a solas en compañpía, asi te veía.

In company crying alone I saw you.

In Begleitung alleine am weinen sah ich dich.

Martes de Multiples Musas

Es la temporada de cáncer. Alto verano, Hochsommer en alemán. Los días son largos y cálidos. Launische** Luna Madre. Se avecina la Luna Nueva. Cambiando de humor el lunes. Sucede la biología femenina mensual. El primer día del sangrado derramando litros de lágrimas. Añorándo a mi madre muerta. Busco memorias. Recuerdo al Alzheimer como una perdida lenta, como un proceso de soltar y dejar ir. Lo que me parece algo espiritual. Me hace pensar en el budismo, el yoga, el vipassana y el zen. Mamá fue filósofa, mística y una criatura espiritual. ¿Pa ra qué recordar? ¿Para llorar en el presente y reirse del pasado? Si te sirve la memoria. ¿Porqué no mejor servirle al momento presente? Una avalancha anatómica masajea la carne entera con el yoga, estudios, baile y más yoga. Y con muchas actividades caseras. Los deberes del hogar como cocinar, lavar, criar y cuidar del matrimonio, de la pareja demandan mucha atención. Trantando de olvidar todo el llanto del día anterior. Me siento agradecida que otra ola ha pasado. ...

*Iyengar (2002). Light on the Yoga Sutras. p.62

** launisch - alemán, que con frecuencia cambia de humor 

Full Moon in Sagittarius

On a holistic awakening of the body.

You (mind, consciousness) are the body. The body is you. If you are spirit divine, then so is your biological body.

I've picked up on a perceptive phenomenon towards my body in terms of separateness, which appears to be calcified into its very tissue. The fascial net (connective tissue) is definitely affected, also muscles (dormant, hyperactive) and joints. Perhaps even the bones. Certainly the cellular map will be affected. Not sure how this affects the functioning of the nervous system. Is it actually the fascia that dictates movement, not muscle mass? Given its alleged superior number of neurons? It makes sense that the net moveth the mass, not vice versa. Too much mass force could rip the net connective force, couldn't it?

How can yoga help, say which asanas (poses), to integrate the wholeness of the human body and awaken atrophied parts to their existence as an integral element of a whole? What kind of practice can accomplish a holistic awakening of conscious proprioception? Only seated meditation? Cannot the principles of observation, awereness and mindfulness (i.e. body scanning, samadhi, complete absorption) be applied in any position?

The weight of my breasts feels like a proprioceptive distraction. Must get conscious in order to integrate their sensation, position and weight into my movements to avoid "misalignments." Must find an intentional way, and train into habit conscious breast bearing. Particularly the (upper) thoracic spine appears to be affected to the bone. I suspect that the inherent anatomical structure is prepared to accomodate the additional "dead" (muscleless) weight. I do remember what it was like to feel free in my body. What it was like not to bleed. As I once was a girl without the burden of tits, these baby-feeding extensions. But do I also remember what it was like to feel trapped? Like in an egg of some sort. (Is there confinement or freedom in a sphere?) Do I remember the organic separation from the motherwomb? What did that feel like? What sensations did spirit store and why? Maybe it doesn't matter because there is always freedom within?

After "losing" my body to trauma and transformation; to high heels, tights and corsets; to pregnancy, birthing and motherhood. Yoga has helped me come into contact with my child self and my love for moving creatively. Yoga has awakened my child consciousness and triggered healing from the wounds of womanhood.

What’s up with this notion in ("Western") anatomy to separate between body parts? For the sake of specificity? Specificity in what direction? One of separating or one of integrating? How does this affect human perception of the self? And how can a holistic view be created or restored? Yes, one whole made of parts, but which side of the scale do you swing towards?

I'm currently exploring the notion of a pendulum between whole and partial perception, in terms of human anatomy, of anatomical systems of perception. What effects on proprioception has the study of the body mapped out as specific parts? As opposed to the study of the human body mapped out as a holistic flow of energy, for instance? How do different schools of body perception, i.e. Western vis a vis Eastern anatomical conceptions (organic structure mapping) affect the way a human body is perceived?

Which asanas accentuate a holistic biological proprioception as opposed to being focused on more specific aspects of structure and mobility?

It seems to be a natural consequence to do backbends given the structure of the human spine. It's why they're possible to begin with. It's clearly been done before. Thus resulting in such an organism as the limbed spiral axial creature that is the human being, who bends back and forth and side to side. Ancient humans appear to have had a remarkable understanding of human anatomy. The body scriptum alone is a testament to that. Not to mention schools of movement wisdom. Thus, study of the organic body is essential to understanding humankind. Thus, creating mind. Beyond individual musings lies the power of Evolution, ceaselessly whispering words of wisdom past and carefully listenting to the beats of contemporary creativity.

The human creature is essentially intelligent. Then why does it behave with such ignorance? Because samsara (the world) is but a narcissistic creator fascination with the terrestrial human experience? A show for some abstract observer to watch but not get distracted by? An existential carnival. And it doesn't matter which carousel or roller-coaster you choose, you're still part of the carnival. Even as a mere spectator you still are!

Is a perceiver's essential nature individual or universal?

Platonic Rausch* (New Moon in Aries)

Who retells stories so well that they linger for many millenia? Are these stories even true?

Philosophy doesn’t merely happen outside the cave in the light of day. Nay, philosophy happens already in the cave, where it is not a world of shadows cast by anonymous flames, but light shining forth from within each existential prisoner (human being).

Philosophy has often historically appeared to me as something Bohemian, a Rausch affordable to those with “time to think”, the leisure of surrounding oneself with certain creaturely comforts, like furniture, garments, pillows, scriptures, servants, art and so forth. Philosophy, a thing for the privileged enlightened souls who become liberated….

Liberated from the woes of the cave? Liberated from the woes of the day. Nay, philosophy is always happening, in broad daylight (land, air, surface water etc) as in the “darkest” cave (deep ocean, subterranean earth, mountain holes, human souls). The stars become alight in the cave in the form of organic shapes painted by eyes of fire. What about the atoms of light everywhere, and the shadows of atoms in light? Yin Yang anyone? Is there such a thing as “pure” light (Heaven) or no shadows (Nirvana)? For there to be shadows, there must be light. Is light not a matter of the physical world after all? What lies beyond light, darkenss and shadows is what I want to know. Beyond inside and outside galactic, terrestrial and existential caves. What awaits the seeker who makes it there?

But why listen to this proletarian-bougie turn-of-the-twenty-first-century sexually mature middle-aged woman posing as a contemporary philospher? One who suffers from ADHDD - Attenteion Deficit Hyperactivity Depressive Disorder. To use contemporary terminology...

Biological Context

I've been bleeding periodically for 30 years. My first blood dropped when I was twelve. For decades now my body with moonthly imprecision will oscillate between creation and destruction. It builds up matter for growing a temporary organ to build entire organisms and in a matter of days destroys the whole damn thing and expulses it violently, bloodily from myself. To then hyperactively rebuild and seek with sexual and other sensual impulses fertil ground. To then depress in the heaviness and flow of the lightest and darkest of blood. And this in a matter of weeks every month for decades. Again and again and again and again. A short-interval long-term pendulum swinging between uppity creative energy and intense inevitable destructive force.

I'm obviously ovulating now. How fitting for the beginning of spring with a New Moon in Aries. I am afflicted with every-man-could-make-me-turn-my-head energy. Sure, homosexuality and bisexuality might arouse me. But there is nothing in the world that fascinates me more than men, drawing me in with a magnetic force unrivaled by reason. Particularly those of my generation, kindred men. I seek to see them, know them, only to never fully understand them and remain a woman lost in the exhilarating beauty of their mystery. I am convinced this is a biological disposition of the wise and foolish organism I inahbit. This biological context must be further explored. In the meantime, a shorty I wrote a while back, an ode to men:

Imagined Joy I saw a half-naked runner as I drove the children to their class but I felt too depressed to care. Then I thought: "Better look at him than feel the shit pain." As I glanced back at him he appeared to touch his face self-consciously. "Why run around like that and expect not to get looked at?" I wondered compulsively. I would have loved to see his cock and balls bounce around as he ran.

Psychological Context

I grew up with an alcoholic father who loved to hate me. A mother who adored me as a mirculous first-born because she had lost two children before. I was hugging whiskey and cognac bottles before I had learned to crawl in smokey appartments rubbing cigarettes and tobacco between my baby hands. Got drunk for the first time when I was five. ... I just thought of a meme I saw recently, which states: "Ah, the 80s... when a kid would blow our their birthday candles over top of an ashtray, a foot away from an open beer, while someone held a lit cigar next to their face."

Now I must abruptly conclude this unfinished post. Motherly and domestic duties abound. Later, ballet. Body-mind entering a new phase in mid-life transformational development through study and training. More on this later.

To be continued ...

Thank you New Moon in Aries for the vibes of initiation, initiative, assertive action and brutal honesty!

*Rausch - German for frenzy, intoxication, rapture, exhilaration, rush ...

Full Moon in Leo stream of consciousness

Spiritual

Beyond the apparently obvious

Enough to see through

Not enough to be certain

Espiritual

Más allá de lo aparentemente obvio

Geistig

Weiter als das scheinbar Offensichtliche

Full Moon in Leo

Vollmond im Löwen

Luna Llena en Leo

—Fortune Muse, have not all artists enjoyed Great Hands that feed them?

-Who can think about cooking when great art befalls body and mind?

-For what is life without Art but a pitiful lump of suffering?

-But children, what is Art?

-Musa de la fortuna, ¿acaso no han sido alimentadas todas las artistas por grandes manos generosas?

-¿Habrá quién pueda pensar en cocinar si el Arte se apodera del cuerpo y de la mente?

-Pues ¿qué es la vida sin arte más que un triste trapo de sufrimiento?

-Pero hij@s, ¿el Arte qué es?

-Glücksmuse, hatten nicht alle KünstlerInnen grosszügige Hände die sie nährten?

-Wer kann schon ans Kochen denken wenn dem Körper und dem Geist die Kunst zustösst?

-Denn was ist das Leben ohne Kunst mehr als ein erbärmlicher Lappens des Leidens?

-Aber Kinder, was ist die Kunst?

To what extent are Asanas (body movement) mantras - techniques for spiritual evolution through concentrated repetition?

Erotic equipment —-

help give them ladies the multiple orgasms they’re biologically designed to experience, make’em happy

(Vedic scientific)

Basic scientific (favoring evolution (continuation, development, living toward bliss)) thought: how to reduce the distance of danger when dropping child while on legs, feet (bipedal mechanism). Through mobility, flexibility and strength, knowledge made wisdom (knowledge+experience+reflection) through practical training as well as spiritual structures (parenthood, philosophy , folktales, religions, beliefs, theories, scriptures, schools, traditions, mastery…) as a voice of guidance on this inevitable path of evolution (organism is not without a beyond force connecting everything discernible - at least there’s consciousness, awareness, an observing, witnessing phenomenon without which nothing would be seen, therefore not be at all, not for the organism’s discernibility) when One is a human incarnate spirit (prakriti purusha).

She: The path is winding.

He: And there are winding wanderers, too.

Blitz monologue 1

A Shecreature: I am a mother, yes. But I am not the mother. Nobody is. The Mother is all of us.

Seeker: Maybe I don’t wish to discover too much too soon. So the thrill of discovering may continue.

Party Night

Apheida
Oh moon where art thou gone so soon, down, down behind that hill since before midnight strike?!

Ruphus
Oh just havin' a little party over at my place. Good sound, some dancin', groovin', movin' - with the canine and the feline. Every sound of life beats inside my heart.

Apheida
Lover of life, feel you not the summer darkness? The moon smiles onto me in the morning come winter. Tonight it is gone.

Ruphus
Comes darkness, comes night life. Sun light strong in day time hours, the partying stronger come night fall. No moon need be witness to that. Join the sleepy canines and the crazy felines in their nocturnal serenade.

Full moon

Is life easier through the veil of idealism, the filter of ignorance? Some truths about the human condition are heavy to bear. Is enlightenment but in the dark shadows of existance? I no longer wish to search everywhere and anywhere. Shall the questions begin from within? She called it conflicts of the psyche that need to be dealt with, the ancient woman with knowing eyes. The soulful physician explained that everything occured in the brain. The conflicts allow for both the experience of joy and the experience of pain. The brain steers both tears of happiness and tears of sorrow, smiles of kindness and smiles of deceit. What a conflict of the psyche, indeed! Such contradictions under the same roof. What to do?

Guiding light
in the darkness of night,
remind me to shine,
not too bright,
just enough
to sit tight
and ne'r lose sight.