I love writing, but I am too philosophical. Trust me there is such a thing. I sit down sometimes and feel compelled to write my feelings and it happens instantaneously I start dissecting everything. Its such a conundrum. The idea moves forward into expression and then swiftly into something else, while expression lags behind until im left pondering both the expression of the idea and the idea, which is becoming something else. The sheer act of writing something is so interesting. I think about time. As soon as I write something, I go in between. Self awareness is like a limbo, in between past and future. While writing happens moment to moment moving forward. Once it is written it is past. When it is read again it is already existing and therefore goes beyond past and future, coming and going. Parmenides, the greek philosopher, had this notion that nothing could come into existence or come out of existence, if there would be just existence. Is there a constant in the moving universe? I like to think about Borges story The Book of Sand I also like to think about the Buddha. Particularly the image of the Buddha in Dhyanamudra. Something about just being there with those wide magnificent eyes, like the sun. Just beaming the Being, you know. Pretty awesome...
Posted on: Fri, 03 Oct 2014 05:08:30 +0000
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