Friday, December 31, 2010

Infinite Mall #6

The Flower

Flowers, impossibly Georgia O'Keefe,
      Involuted and drooping and seem to drip
Sweet secrets that slide thickly down dark green leafs
      Put your lips to a leaf and take a sip

thathichfalls #4

All that which falls within the purview of the five senses is known as the empirical.

As these senses -- of smell, taste, sight, touch and hearing -- are the preceptors of pleasure and pain, it goes without saying that advancements in empirical science have been resulting in ever-increasing means to heighten both pleasure, as well as pain.

If we devote just a few moments to look at our own such sensations from a third party point of view, we would conclude that these sensations are in fact being referred to own ego, the sense of "i" ness. If this were not so, then the same objects would have produced the same sensation in everybody and in equal degree. Thus, the ego is the traceable birthplace of all desires and also reason for the relentless but futile struggle to satisfy them.

The question is: who in reality is struggling in such a futile manner? If this is my body and this is my mind, then who is the real I? The wise call it Atman. It is always the Atman that wants to experience reality in all creation. It is always ego or ahamkara, the ruler of body and mind, that always short-changes the Atman in the process. In other words, the ego domain forces an identification of the real self with body and mind

Read more: Yoga of universal brotherhood - The Times of India

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Connection #4 - Averroes to Yacoub Almansour

Abū 'l-Walīd Muḥammad bin Aḥmad bin Rushd (Arabic: أبو الوليد محمد بن احمد بن رشد‎), better known just as Ibn Rushd (Arabic: ابن رشد‎), and in European literature as Averroes (pronounced /əˈvɛroʊ.iːz/) (1126 – December 10, 1198), was an Andalusian Muslim polymath; a master of Aristotelian philosophy, Islamic philosophy, Islamic theology, Maliki law and jurisprudence, logic, psychology, politics, Arabic music theory, and the sciences of medicine, astronomy, geography, mathematics, physics and celestial mechanics. He was born in Córdoba, Al Andalus, modern-day Spain, and died in Marrakech, modern-day Morocco. His school of philosophy is known as Averroism. He has been described by some[1] as the founding father of secular thought in Western Europe and "one of the spiritual fathers of Europe,"[2] although other scholars oppose such claims.


Averroes (Abonlwalid Mo'hammed ibn Abmed ibn Mo'hnmmed ibu-Roschd) was born at Cordova about 1120.
His family belonged to the most considerable in Andalusia, high in office, high in esteem. He was greatly befriended by Abubacer, and was intimate with the family of Avenzoar, his colleague at the court of Yousouf, during whose reign he continued in high favour and was employed in various important offices, so that his works were written amid continual interruptions. This favour seems to have been increased under Yousouf s successor, Yacoub Almansour, who was foud of discussing scientific and philosophic questions with him. Indeed Averroes occasionally so far forgot etiquette as to address his sovereign thus: ' Listen, O my brother! ' Such intimacy naturally excited the jealousy of those less favoured, and perhaps by their machinations, or perhaps from some imprudence on his part, he suddenly fell into disgrace. The pretext was his heterodoxy. He was banished from Cordova, and his works were condemned to the flames—an exception being made in favour of the works on medicine, arithmetic, and elementary astronomy.
Almansour issued an edict declaring that God had ordained hell-fire for those who impiously asserted truth to be given by Reason alone. From such a sovereign such a declaration must be attributed to the kind of coercion exercised by priests over all but the most self-willed rulers. At any rate, the disgrace of Averroes was only temporary. The edict was rescinded, and Averroes recalled. But the end was near. He died at Morocco in 1198.

History of Philosophy, Volume 2 By George Henry Lewes

Infinite Mall #5

Green and White

Not going up but falling from a high
      Roof that has lights covered in green leaves
Spilling dappled patches of viridian and white
      Walk into a world of green and white weaves

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Infinite Mall #4

The Empty Mall

Choose the wrong door, there's a dusty shoe store
      Come out to an empty mall, deserted
Fountains seem larger, air is like quartz, flawed
      Light like liquid spills on plants inverted

Red, Part Two - 5000 Degrees East

South through the Lake District, the landscape scattered with strange angular Red structures. The dull green grass on the soft hills was covered with these bright red things, collapsed geodetic spires topped with shattered domes. They looked like failed schematics for crimson mushrooms.Somewhere out on the endless prairies of North America was the successful version. A skyhook fifty miles square at the base, topped off at 23,000 high by something that looked suspiciously like a giant starship.
No-one went anywhere near the thing. Red seemed to have plans there and they might involve us.
We sat drinking whisky in our compartment watching the view. Somewhere around Lancaster Giles and I lit up Cuban cigars ("rolled on the thighs of nubile young puppets," joked Giles) and resumed our argument.
"So you think we can't trust the puppets with anything more complex that food preparation and street sweeping?"
I looked around the wood panelled room. As so often in this kind of place the dim light, the gentle glow from the furniture, the hypnotic flicker of the open fire all combined to produce the kind of comfort conducive to making decisions for others.
On the wall, among the trophies and certificates, was a print of the Origin Point, Red Ground Zero.
An ugly street in Kenner, Louisiaina with a bar and a gas station on one side, two blurred hotels on the other. A crack in the street pouring out a crimson liquid.
"Alan. have you ever wondered where all the puppets go?"
Hesitatingly I said, "Well, sir, I assume that they're working for us. And many must maintain the bits of civilisation we aren't currently using."
"Many do exactly that of course. But think about it. Ever seen them breed? A mature puppet can produce fifteen progeny every six months. Most do. So where do they go?"
"Honestly, I don't know"
"They go East, Alan. In ever increasing numbers."
He pointed at the map.
"By now we should have expanded out to at least 5000 degrees east. We're stuck, however."

Infinite Mall #3

The Universal Mall

Space filled with the same stores across the world
      Go through one of those doors in Lakeline Mall
Come out at a mall in France, space is curled
      Around the only and all, the True Mall

Monday, December 27, 2010

A throw of the dice will never abolish chance

The English Translation (Stephane Mallarmé, trans A. S. Kline)



                                                                                 EVEN WHEN TRULY CAST IN THE ETERNAL



Can be
               the Abyss
                                     beneath the desperately
                                                    sloping incline
                                                                                       of its
                                                                                own wing
                                                                                         through            an advance falling back from ill to take flight
                                                                                                                                        and veiling the gushers
                                                                                                                                            restraining the surges
                                                                                                                               gathered far within
                                                                                      the shadow buried deep by that alternative sail
                                                                                                          almost matching
                                                                                                 its yawning depth to the wingspan like a hull
                                                                                                                       of a vessel                
                                                                                                            rocked from side to side

             THE MASTER                                             beyond former calculations
                                                                              where the lost manoeuvre with the age
      implying                                                                           that formerly he grasped the helm
                             of this conflagration          of the concerted
                                                                                                     horizon at his feet
                                                           that          readies itself
                                                                                        moves and merges
                                                                                            with the blow that grips it
                                 as one threatens             fate and the winds
          the unique Number which cannot             be another
                                                                                                                         to hurl it
                                                                                                                                               into the storm
                                                                                                                                 relinquish the cleaving there and pass proudly
                                   a corpse pushed back           by the arm from the secret
           than taking sides
                  a hoary madman
                                  on behalf
                  of the waves
                                                                  one             overwhelms the head
                                                                                    flows through the submissive beard
                                             straight shipwreck             that of the man
                                                                                            without a vessel
                                                                                                                 no matter where

ancestrally never to open the fist
                                                    beyond the helpless head
       a legacy in vanishing
                                       to someone
                                 the immemorial ulterior demon
             from non-existent regions
the old man towards this ultimate meeting with probability
                                                                      his childlike shade
caressed and smoothed and rendered
                                          supple by the wave and shielded
                                        from hard bone lost between the planks
                                                                       of a frolic
the sea through the old man or the old man against the sea
                            making a vain attempt
                                                                                         an Engagement
         dread the veil of illusion rejected
         as the phantom of a gesture
                                              will tremble

                                                       A simple                   insinuation
                                                                  into silence                  entwined with irony
                                                                                                                                              the mystery
                                             in some close                   swirl of mirth and terror
                                                                         whirls                    round the abyss
                                                                                                                                                  without scattering
                                                                                                                                                                          or dispersing
                                                                                                                                              and cradles the virgin index there

                                                                                                                                                                             AS IF

         a solitary plume overwhelmed

                                                               untouched                             that a cap of
midnight grazes or encounters
                                                                                                                                            and fixes
                                                                                                            in crumpled velvet with a sombre burst of laughter
                                                                                                               that rigid whiteness
                                                                                                                              in opposition to the heavens
                                                                                                                       too much so
                                                                                                                               not to signal
                                                                                                                                 bitter prince of the reef
                                                                                                                               heroically adorned with it
                                                                                                                                              indomitable but contained
                                                                                                                                   by his petty reason virile
                                                                                                                                                                                 in lightning

                 expiatory and pubescent
                                                                                 dumb                                    laughter

                                                         The lucid and lordly crest             of vertigo
                                                                                 on the invisible brow
                                                                                  then shades
                                                          a slim dark tallness          upright
                                                                         in its siren coiling
                                                                                                                                          at the moment
                                                                                                                                                   of striking
                                                       through impatient ultimate scales          bifurcated
                                                                                                                                               a rock
                                                                                                                                           a deceptive manor
                                                                                                                                                             evaporating in fog
                                                                                                                                                       that imposed
                                                                                                                                                                  limits  on  the infinite

                                                  IT WAS                                                       THE NUMBER
                                                  stellar outcome   

                                                                                                                                       WERE IT TO HAVE EXISTED
                                                                                                                 other than as a fragmented agonised hallucination

                                                                                                                      WERE IT TO HAVE BEGUN AND ENDED
                                                                                                                    a surging that denied and closed when visible
                                                                                                                                              at last
by some profusion spreading in sparseness
                                                                                                                                         WERE IT TO HAVE AMOUNTED

 to the fact of the total though as little as one
IT WOULD BE                                                                         
                                         more nor less
                                                                          indifferently but as much        
                                                                                                                the plume
                                                                                                                     rhythmic suspense of the disaster
                                                                                                                                                                          to bury itself
                                                                                                                                              in the original foam

                                                                                                      from which its delirium formerly leapt to the summit
                                                                                                                           by the same neutrality of abyss

                             of the memorable crisis
                                           where the event
                                                matured            accomplished in sight of all non-existent
                                                                                                                                                             human outcomes
                                                                                                                 WILL HAVE TAKEN PLACE
                                                                                                               a commonplace elevation pours out absence
                                                                                                                                      BUT THE PLACE
                                                                                    some lapping below as if to scatter the empty act
                                                                                                                                     abruptly that otherwise
                                                                                                                              by its falsity
                                                                                                                                                would have plumbed
                                                                                    in this region
                                                                                                                       of waves
                                                                                                                                         in which all reality dissolves

                 at the altitude
                                                         as far as a place       fuses with beyond
                                                                                                                                        outside the interest
                                                                                                                                 signalled regarding it
                                                                                                                                                                   in general
                                                                                                          in accord with such obliquity through such declination
                                                                                                                                                                      of fire
                                                                                                                      what must be
                                                                                                                            the Wain also North
                                                                                                                                        A CONSTELLATION
                                                                                                                          cold with neglect and desuetude
                                                                                                                                                                   not so much though
                                                                                                                                                            that it fails to enumerate
                                                                                                                           on some vacant and superior surface
                                                                                                                                                         the consecutive clash
                                                                                                                       of a final account in formation
                                                                                                                                                  shining and meditating
                                                                                                                                                         before stopping
                                                                                                                                     at some last point that crowns it

                                                                                                                                       All Thought expresses a Throw of the Dice