Just living it out.

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Wed, 22 May 2013 15:25:09 -0400

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Wed, 22 May 2013 15:23:43 -0400

Howard Zinn on his political philosophy.

Tue, 21 May 2013 14:30:21 -0400

Howard Zinn on his political philosophy.

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Mon, 20 May 2013 18:45:58 -0400

"I see it all perfectly; there are two possible situations — one can either do this or that. My..."

Mon, 20 May 2013 18:43:42 -0400

““I see it all perfectly; there are two possible situations — one can either do this or that. My honest opinion and my friendly advice is this: do it or do not do it — you will regret both.””

- Søren Kierkegaard

wilburwhateley: The Sultan of Horror, H.P. Lovecraft...

Sun, 19 May 2013 13:05:55 -0400

wilburwhateley:

The Sultan of Horror, H.P. Lovecraft Portrait

Alex C.F.

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Fri, 17 May 2013 16:15:18 -0400

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Fri, 17 May 2013 14:05:58 -0400

Krzysztof Penderecki: Concerto per violino e orchestra

Fri, 17 May 2013 14:02:40 -0400

Krzysztof Penderecki: Concerto per violino e orchestra

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Thu, 16 May 2013 21:52:46 -0400

Orientation: Straight

Wed, 08 May 2013 23:34:13 -0400

Oppenheimer

Sat, 04 May 2013 23:07:09 -0400

Oppenheimer

"A historic process in which resentment against a disenchanted secular world found deliverance in the..."

Sat, 04 May 2013 22:27:51 -0400

“A historic process in which resentment against a disenchanted secular world found deliverance in the ecstatic escape of unreason.”

- Noam Chomsky

"Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are,..."

Sat, 04 May 2013 14:51:13 -0400

“Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are.”

- Augustine of Hippo

If you believe in a future where you are free, watch and act...

Sat, 04 May 2013 14:50:20 -0400

If you believe in a future where you are free, watch and act upon this video.

‘Obey’ film based upon Chris Hedges book “Death of the Liberal Class”

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Sat, 04 May 2013 13:49:49 -0400

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Sat, 27 Apr 2013 13:39:26 -0400

"Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet, Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet! I feel a..."

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 23:27:46 -0400

“

Light flows our war of mocking words, and yet,
Behold, with tears mine eyes are wet!
I feel a nameless sadness o’er me roll.
Yes, yes, we know that we can jest,
We know, we know that we can smile!
But there’s a something in this breast,
To which thy light words bring no rest,
And thy gay smiles no anodyne.
Give me thy hand, and hush awhile,
And turn those limpid eyes on mine, 10
And let me read there, love! thy inmost soul.

Alas! is even love too weak
To unlock the heart, and let it speak?
Are even lovers powerless to reveal
To one another what indeed they feel?
I knew the mass of men conceal’d
Their thoughts, for fear that if reveal’d
They would by other men be met
With blank indifference, or with blame reproved;
I knew they lived and moved 20
Trick’d in disguises, alien to the rest
Of men, and alien to themselves—and yet
The same heart beats in every human breast!

But we, my love!—doth a like spell benumb
Our hearts, our voices?—must we too be dumb?

Ah! well for us, if even we,
Even for a moment, can get free
Our heart, and have our lips unchain’d;
For that which seals them hath been deep-ordain’d!

Fate, which foresaw 30
How frivolous a baby man would be—
By what distractions he would be possess’d,
How he would pour himself in every strife,
And well-nigh change his own identity—
That it might keep from his capricious play
His genuine self, and force him to obey
Even in his own despite his being’s law,
Bade through the deep recesses of our breast
The unregarded river of our life
Pursue with indiscernible flow its way; 40
And that we should not see
The buried stream, and seem to be
Eddying at large in blind uncertainty,
Though driving on with it eternally.

But often, in the world’s most crowded streets,
But often, in the din of strife,
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life;
A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
In tracking out our true, original course; 50
A longing to inquire
Into the mystery of this heart which beats
So wild, so deep in us—to know
Whence our lives come and where they go.
And many a man in his own breast then delves,
But deep enough, alas! none ever mines.
And we have been on many thousand lines,
And we have shown, on each, spirit and power;
But hardly have we, for one little hour,
Been on our own line, have we been ourselves— 60
Hardly had skill to utter one of all
The nameless feelings that course through our breast,
But they course on for ever unexpress’d.
And long we try in vain to speak and act
Our hidden self, and what we say and do
Is eloquent, is well—but ‘tis not true!
And then we will no more be rack’d
With inward striving, and demand
Of all the thousand nothings of the hour
Their stupefying power; 70
Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call!
Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn,
From the soul’s subterranean depth upborne
As from an infinitely distant land,
Come airs, and floating echoes, and convey
A melancholy into all our day.

Only—but this is rare—
When a beloved hand is laid in ours,
When, jaded with the rush and glare
Of the interminable hours, 80
Our eyes can in another’s eyes read clear,
When our world-deafen’d ear
Is by the tones of a loved voice caress’d—
A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast,
And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again.
The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain,
And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know.
A man becomes aware of his life’s flow,
And hears its winding murmur; and he sees
The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze. 90

And there arrives a lull in the hot race
Wherein he doth for ever chase
That flying and elusive shadow, rest.
An air of coolness plays upon his face,
And an unwonted calm pervades his breast.
And then he thinks he knows
The hills where his life rose,
And the sea where it goes.

”

- Matthew Arnold

The Buried Life

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Tue, 23 Apr 2013 23:25:41 -0400

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Mon, 22 Apr 2013 19:32:42 -0400