Notes on Salvador Dali

                                       

     Have you ever displayed elephant skulls in front of your home or imagined being a fish, or find yourself fascinated with your own excrement? One very eccentric man did all these things, Mr. Salvador Dali, one of the most famous artists of the Surrealism time. But then, when was there a distinction between eccentricity and ingenuity. In a world now, where the quality of imitation decides the quality of art, Salvador Dali has been a refreshing break from all the left brainer's nonsense I hear everyday. Trust me, if you have never seen a Dali, then watch "The persistence of Memory" and let the Pink Floyd's song "Time" play in the background. Your mind will say a "thank you"!

My introduction to Salvador Dali and Surrealism in general is attributed to one very dear artist friend. Conversations with her made me read "The Secret Life of Salvador Dali" and since then I have believed that imagination is "real". A tough book book to read being as ambiguous as the man himself and being so whacky. Consider this, a man who dreams that his friend murdered him and then took his wife, goes on to have lunch with him the very next afternoon and then starts painting the dream!  I felt as if I was reading the incoherent ramblings of a man with a slight case of narcissism. This at times, made the book somewhat difficult to follow. But, I found it to be true "Dalinian" as he would say. Reading about the thought process of some of his work was most intriguing. He seemed to find the "art" in some of the most awkward places. 

Every experience, even seeing a hotel bellboy, spilling some coffee, or flatulence, had mystic and mythic meaning for him. Read just a few of his words, and you know that you can't just read his words. Ideas swirled around him in chaotic orbits, like his beloved flies. His writing makes me think of a show of fireworks, which an author tries to describe by tracing a few dozen especially brilliant sparks. Dali’s unique take on art makes his pieces worth looking at multiple times. Indeed, I can often look back on one of his works and notice a plethora of new things that I haven’t noticed before.For example, one of his paintings features a throng of nude women in strange poses. Take a few steps back or lose your focus on those three, and focus on the man in the front… What you’ll see instead of those women in the background is a macabre skull leering at you.

Three things stand out as invariant across Dalí's life, as he tells it. The second is Gala, his wife, muse, agent, and tour-guide to planet earth. The third is enthusiasm for everything, a degree of involvement with his world that permeates his vision and hearing, but also his senses of smell, touch, and all things of the body. That level of everyday intensity would stun most people in just minutes, and probably kill some. The first point in Dalí's world is, of course, Dalí

Dalí's achievement can be hard to grasp. It is all but de rigueur to say that it has been obscured by his flamboyant temperament and indefatigable self-promotion, and further trivialized by his pervasive influence - unequaled even by Picasso - that is not restricted to just legions of subsequent artists. There are entire genres of popular culture and kitsch that seem almost unimaginable without Dalí, including horror movies, science-fiction book covers and cartoons.

Dalí's paintings from the late 1920's and early 30's are among the most memorably, lusciously harrowing images of Surrealism. His serene yet nightmarish combinations of pristine planes and sudden eruptions of deformed bodies and tortured flesh are famously fraught with sexual anxiety and obsessions: onanism, scatology and fear of impotence. They affirm most explicitly Surrealism's first article of faith: that the uncontrollable forces of the unconscious discovered by Freud were the true governors of reality.

 The Persistence of Memory is one of Dali's best-known works, and as such, many people have most likely been exposed to it throughout their lives. Through its showings of soggy clocks and an Oceanside setting, the painting depicts Dali's view of how memory fades (or in this case, sags) over time. One thing an attentive viewer will note is the closed pocket watch, with its lack of distortion, implies Dali's view that memory can only be distorted if open (shared with others), rather than closed. If you look closely, you can see Salvador Dali's self-criticism come through in a brilliant way, in the central figure of the painting. The background of the painting, in contrast to the rest of Dali's works, are not terribly surreal, and indeed are quite beautiful in the more traditional sense, and they depict the shores of his native Catalonia. Surrealism is an art form which seems to be quite "love it or hate it". For me personally, I love this piece, though at first I found it quite visually disagreeable. Lovers of more conservative art will most likely not enjoy this piece, as it is highly experimental.

No matter how realistic or well done a piece is, the best pieces are always the ones that reflect personal feelings. Humans are naturally social people that communicate with each other verbally, physically, mentally and emotionally. If a work of art lacks all of the above, then it’s a dead piece of art that isn’t as appealing to the eye. When humans can sympathize with a piece of art, it makes the work all the more great. Dalí portrays his emotions well throughout his paintings in almost any painting he does. Anyone can look at his paintings and tell what his relative mood was while painting the picture.

One catastrophic event in Dalí’s life that is a turning point in his art is the death of his mother. The death of his mother causes him to change his styles from painting portraits and landscapes to borrowing many other styles and began reflecting his tormented soul. His love for his wife is also portrayed in his painting Galarina. His feelings of depression led him to painting gloomy pictures. Although not very easy to find the emotions Dalí expresses in his art when compared to Van Gogh for instance, it’s his feelings that are often being expressed in his paintings.

In all of Dalí’s works he clearly defines the idea of surrealism art. All of his art could be a good exemplar of surreal art..

 Salvador Dalí may not top everyone's list of modern artists, but he played one to the hilt. He treated modern painting as an experiment—often as not, an experiment in human flesh. He dabbled in avant-garde movements just long enough to break away, in politics just long enough to change sides, and in popular culture just long enough to have a run-in or two with the producers. He returned to a stock of images as they slipped from radical to obsessive to a cliché. He flaunted his talent, his virtuosity, and his command of illusion every step of the way. And all these extended to the artist's persona as much as to his work. From his melting watches to his long waxed mustache, Dalí became a public figure and a public favorite, like Picasso without the difficulty of Cubism. The profile will not fit everyone's idea of modern art. 

The “BIG-SMALL”complex

Be it the Hulk from Avengers or the Kraken from  Pirates of the Caribbean, they all suffer from the common themes of sadness, loneliness and episodes of depression and can easily be characterized into some type of bipolar disorder. Well, before you conclude that I have completely lost it(not hard to imagine with few of last blog posts) I would like to warn you(ok! Plead) to  read this post till end.

My readers (if at all there is a community like this!); you all are aware of my intense fascination with walrus, octopus and snakes (Yeah, I kissed one snake while I was in India....ok confession, not on lips!). But, the theme is that I thought about my intense predilection for these majestic beasts and I realised that it stems from something we share in common- the small complex.

Inferiority complex and superiority complex are like two sides of the same coin and what an epitome of man's duality  it is. The very manifestation of one is the implicit manifestation of another. I believe that an inferiority complex is one of the nastiest psychological traits you can have. Seriously, it will mess your life up in a sadistic way. There’s a big catch to overcoming an inferiority complex: you have to understand its genuine cause. The apparent cause seem to be the fact you are inferior to others around you in a particular manner: you’re short, you’re fat, you’re bold, you’re poor, you’re less educated. You see, we are all inferior to other people in some ways, and superior in others. We all have our combinations of qualities and flaws and overall we’re not that different from each other. My point is that a certain flaw is not a realistically sufficient reason to have an inferiority complex.

The real cause of an inferiority complex has little to do with reality and it has a lot to do with how we process it. In order to get an inferiority complex, you have to dramatize in your head the meaning of a certain flaw.You have to tell yourself that, for example, you are so short you look like a midget, that everybody is making fun of you and that this is intolerable.  That is the point when you introduce God and other fictional characters in your head and start your private conferences.

Ok, now for some intellect excretion I would like to throw in a little Freud. He says-“Man is the most irrational being”. Sigmund Freud never looked at the nature of man in the positive direction. Instead, he saw that the way man uses the id component, has adversely influenced the right and proper adjustment of his inward being, using the ego to say he is justified for doing wrong and thus, making reality a case of cruelty. Man has various needs such as; psychological, physical, social, emotional and spiritual. As the needs of man plague his existence, in order to be comfortable, he must device a measure of satisfying his demanding needs. In the process of achieving this, man becomes logical, rational, mentally healthy and conscious in using his perspective powers of making decisions.

What is in the atom, is in the whole; what is in the micro, is in the macro; what is in the smallest, is in the biggest; what is in the drop, is in the ocean. once it is remembered that in the micro is hiding the macro, the way is paved for man to remember his own self potential. There is no reason for man to feel that he is small. There is no reason for even the smallest to feel small.It is necessary at this point to keep in mind the opposite side also that even the vastest, the biggest does not need to be filled with ego because even the smallest possesses the same. If an ocean becomes full of ego, it is madness because what it has is also possessed by a small drop. There is no reason for even the tiniest to feel inferior and there is no reason for even the biggest to be full of ego.Neither inferiority has any meaning nor superiority has any meaning. They both are meaningless. You may have heard the famous phrase of Omar Khayyam: ”Dust unto dust”; that dust returns into dust and there is nothing else to it.

It is necessary to remember that the whole immensity exists within man; it is necessary to remember that the Divine exists within man, so that he does not become inferior. And the interesting thing is that in order to destroy his inferiority complex, man falls into the fantasies of a superiority complex.

He starts finding ways to suppress the inferiority complex. When he feels inferior inside, he starts making wealth so that having amassed the wealth he may show the world and may feel himself too, that not only am I not nothing, I am quite something. The inferiority complex rushes and man starts climbing thrones so that standing on the throne he may declare, ”Who says I am nothing? I am something.”

Inferiority itself becomes the race for superiority. So, all the people who go in the mad race of becoming superior are necessarily suffering from an inferiority complex inside. Adler has said many amazing things. His statements are significant. He has said that often those who come first in running races, are the people who limped in their childhood. And those who become very skillful in music are those who were a little hard of hearing in their childhood.And those who become presidents, prime ministers, are often those who sat on the back benches in school. Because of that hurt of inferiority they set out to prove to the world that they are something; they want to show that they are something. Hence, if a politician suffers from inferiority, there is nothing strange in it. A worm goes on eating him up inside that he is nothing. And it hurts the mind, it puts one in difficulty, causes him to run. When Lenin sat on a chair, his legs did not reach the ground. The upper part of his body was long and his legs were short. When he sat on a chair, his legs could not normally touch the ground.

Now coming back to the octopus and walrus fantasy I have (started with the Beatles song!). Well, it has stemmed from the appreciation of the fact that despite being so majestic, they are so happy, complex-free and innocent. They are so full of life. So is the ant or the fly, not messed up for their size. Man must be a private joke between these animals. They must be making so much fun of the irrationality and paranoia of man.

                                      Darkness- the permanent trick

      The daylight increases rapidly. Not a window opened, not a door stood ajar; it is the dawn but not the awaking. Not a living be­ing in the cross-roads, which gleamed white in the light of the sun. Nothing is so mournful as this light in deserted streets. Nothing was to be seen, but there was something to be heard.

   Darkness is not a mere absence of light. It is the surrender of light. You were brought up with the notion of good always defeating evil and you never doubted as everything around was given the manifestation based on this ideology. From the decrepit of Dostoevskian world to the magnificence of myths, everything was given the same flavor. And you casually forgot that it is the dark shadow that stays with you in the day and it is that very dark shadow that transforms into the color of night. Why? Why are you so obsessed with light and good? Is it because if the obsession is taken away, it shall reveal the paradox?

I was born in the rut of darkness and I grew up to embrace it. Not the victim of dark but its carrier. It has been entrusted with me. I am the Satan who has lived timelessly while Gods were put on cross. And I smiled, mocking at your defiance to protect an idea which is pseudo like your very being. If your shadow is not real, why can’t you get rid of it? Why you run to light to get rid of it and then again it creeps up on you. Who wins? Light??

     I am often pointed out adjectives by commoners around me and its been centuries I have sat in their minds and ruled their actions. I made them self indulgent fools awaiting a house of paradise while I went and destroyed the garden and the house that prided in being hailed as the paradise. It is not my vanity that calls them commoners but their inferiority that exudes from them from the very second they wake up in the morning. I have heard them smile and say to themselves when they wake up every morning- “I am awesome, I have a great life, what a beautiful day, blaah blaah”. And there I am in their head as a doubt-“Is it? Do you really have a wonderful life? Why are you assuring yourself then?”.  I rule their aura, their vibes and they cast me aside with the self manufactured anecdotes on goodness. Now, who is being arrogant?

     I am your disorder, your legs cut into two, your hands cut and tied to your eyes, your mind torn apart in gutters and rose garden. Worthless is your life, if the struggle to show me wrong is taken away from you. You hold hands with your so called lovers, you walk between your parents and revel in the artifice of light while I walk right behind you. I allow for your indulgence and you take it granted to be rude.

      Do you understand the paradigm of darkness? You don’t because it has no paradigm. Structures are your consolations to yourself while darkness is the chaos you run from. Have you ever stayed in a dark room with your eyes closed? Gentlemen, that is the real infinite and eternal. Your light shows you the opulence and destitution of the world, the magnificence and the misery, the music and the cries while darkness shows you nothing. Just lets you be in its arms. But you run and ridicule this immaculate truth and then you cry of your doom all the time. You try to find faults in me to hold yourself at a higher pedestal. And I laugh at your misery of not being able to come out of an incessant wheel in which you travel up and down but always remain at the same point.

From his brimstone bed at break of day
A walking the DEVIL is gone,
To visit his little snug farm of the earth
And see how his stock went on.

As he went through Cold-Bath Fields he saw
A solitary cell;
And the Devil was pleased, for it gave him a hint
For improving his prisons in Hell.

                                                                    - Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Time, Color, God and other such lies

Can you see Satan standing outside the window? Can you? No? Damn you! You need to stop listening to lies music feeds your ears. You absolutely need to. You need to understand that time springs to life when the clock stops working. When clock runs, time is dead…so damn dead. Now, that was William Faulkner in Sound and Fury elaborating on clock’s music.

         What do you want to know about time? It’s a lie. A lie that has been tricked upon you and has made you a diabolical giant, with your left hand holding gloom and your right hand holding joy.what do you hold when your hands are holding something? Nothing Sir, absolutely nothing. What a matter of great tragedy it is that your heart holds nothing now. It can only be burdened now-burdened by joy, burdened by gloom, burdened by burdens but only burdened not hold. Come to think of it, the whole heart is a myth, a lie that has passed on for centuries.
       What do you want to know about colors? It’s a lie told to you for centuries that has bestowed you with bags of despair in Van Gogh. Poor soul who lived in hunger for being obsessed with a lie. The color, the lie. The time, the lie. Color, lie, time. 

      Now, both time and color are despicable and crude manifestations of the heart? Now, people say time to be manifestation of mind but I think its heart because when you disconnect heart then you see the irrationality of the perceived time. Till then, there is a veil. What about heart? An organ that deceives you with fluctuating, fleeting emotions? Can you put your belief in an organ as vagabond as that? Even if you do put your belief, what is belief? A fabrication, an illusory concept of heart? If some part of you wants to contradict the aforementioned sentence, and then let me tell you that even the tiny source of your contradiction is based on some belief. A belief that made you think that earth is held by turtles all the way down. Man is the mystified, discombobulated specie among the totality of species. Isn’t that a terrific sense of humor the creator has? Oh, come on! Even your God is a dead, hollow concept. It’s a belief, a lie. I am ridiculing you and me with that outrageous word – Creator. You should be polite and humble and ask the authorities to remove that sacrosanct word from the dictionary.  

        So, now all you want to ask is what is the truth? Well, Nothing….Nothing is the only truth. Rather, nothingness is a better word. When you understand this truth, the lies transform to truth in a beautiful way. In a way, that there is a merger of truth and lies and you can’t distinguish.

        All the religions believe that God created the world and also mankind. But if you are created by someone, you are only a puppet, you don't have your own soul. And if you are created by somebody, he can uncreate you any moment. He neither asked you whether you wanted to be created, nor is he going to ask you: "Do you want to be uncreated?"

        God is the greatest dictator, if you accept the fiction that he created the world and also created mankind. If God is a reality, then man is a slave, a puppet. All the strings are in his hands, even your life. Then there is no question of any enlightenment. Then there is no question of there being any Gautam the Buddha, because there is no freedom at all. Then there is no question of sin or virtue, no question of sinners and saints. A puppet cannot be responsible for its actions. Responsibility belongs to someone who has the freedom to act.

   That is the basic implication of Friedrich Nietzsche's statement: God is dead, therefore man is free.  
         But Nietzsche's statement is bound to be only one side of the coin. He is perfectly right, but only about one side of the coin. He has made a very significant and meaningful statement, but he has forgotten one thing, which was bound to happen because his statement is based on rationality, logic and intellect. Man is free, but free for what? If there is no God and man is free, that will simply mean man is now capable of doing anything, good or bad; there is nobody to judge him, nobody to forgive him. This freedom will be simply licentiousness. There comes the other side. You remove God and you leave man utterly empty. Of course, you declare his freedom, but to what purpose? How is he going to use his freedom creatively, responsibly? How is he going to avoid freedom being reduced to licentiousness? Remove God – that is perfectly okay, he has been the greatest danger to human freedom – but give man also some meaning and significance, some creativity, some receptivity, some path to find his eternal existence. 

             Zen is the other side of the coin. Zen does not have any God, that's its beauty. 

            Friedrich Nietzsche in his last phase of life became almost insane. He was hospitalized, kept in a mad asylum. Such a great giant, what happened to him? He had concluded: "God is dead," but it is a negative conclusion. He became empty, but his freedom was meaningless. There was no joy in it because it was only freedom from God, but for what? Freedom has two sides: from and for. The other side was missing. That drove him insane. 

         Emptiness always drives people insane. You need some grounding, you need some centering, you need some relationship with existence. God being dead, all your relationship with existence was finished. God being dead, you were left alone without roots. God was non-existential, but it was a good consolation. It used to fill people's interior, although it was a lie. But even a lie, repeated thousands and thousands of times for millennia, becomes almost a truth. God has been a great consolation to people in their fear, in their dread, in their awareness of old age and death, and beyond – the unknown darkness. Lies can console you, you have to understand it. In fact lies are sweeter than the truth. Gautam Buddha is reported to have said: "Truth is bitter in the beginning, sweet in the end, and lies are sweet in the beginning, bitter in the end" – when they are exposed. Then comes a tremendous bitterness, that you have been deceived by all your parents, by all your teachers, by all your priests, by all your so-called leaders. You have been continuously deceived. That frustration brings up a great distrust in everybody. "Nobody is worthy of trust...." It creates a vacuum. 

      And it is not only Friedrich Nietzsche, so it cannot be said that it was just an accident. Many intellectual giants find themselves in mad asylums or commit suicide, because nobody can live in a negative darkness. One needs light and a positive, affirmative experience of truth. Nietzsche demolished the light and created a vacuum in himself and in others who followed him. 

       A whole philosophy has grown in the West: Nietzsche is the founder of this very negative approach to life. Soren Kierkegaard, and Jean-Paul Sartre, and Marcel, and Jaspers, and Martin Heidegger – all the great giants of the first half of the 20th century – were talking only about meaninglessness, anguish, suffering, anxiety, dread, fear, angst. And this philosophy has been called in the West existentialism. 

        I agree with the destruction because what was consoling man was only lies. God, heaven, hell – all were fictions created to console man. It is good they are destroyed, but you are leaving man in an utter vacuum. 

       It is one extreme to believe in God; it is another extreme not to believe in God, and you have to be just in the middle, absolutely balanced. Atheism becomes irrelevant, theism becomes irrelevant. But your balancing brings a new light, a new joy, a new blissfulness to you, a new intelligence which is not of the mind. That intelligence which is not of the mind makes you aware that the whole existence is tremendously intelligent. It is not only alive, it has sensitivity, it has intelligence. 

     You are not accidental. Existence needs you. Without you something will be missing in existence and nobody can replace it. That's what gives you dignity, that the whole existence will miss you.

When you see the rose flowers blossoming, have you ever thought that all this color, all this softness, all this beauty was hidden somewhere in the seed? But the seed alone was not enough to become a rose; it needed the support of existence – the soil, the water, the sun. Then the seed disappeared into the soil and the rosebush started growing. Now it needs air, it needs water, it needs the earth, it needs the sun, it needs the moon. All these together transform the seed which was almost like a dead piece of stone. Suddenly a transformation, a metamorphosis. These roses, these colors, this beauty, this fragrance, cannot come from it unless existence has it already. It all may be hidden; it may be covered in the seed. But anything that happens means it was there already – maybe as a potential.

poems and haiku

1)  Crying about your crying

     You never felt me crying

     In that lonely dark night

     I fought the demons of the light

     Vanishing from my sight

     Cold love, dim light

2) That noisy cafe

    A little time after dusk

    Two lost friends talking

    I look on

    Nostalgia, beauty

3) Dust storm, other side of my window
   Chaos, in the heart
   storm looks at the chaos
   chaos looks at the storm
   Hazy window, Hazy eyes

4)My shadow and I
    A day passes by
    Green trees with birds
    white clouds and the blue sky
    Solitary, I

5)See me nowhere, see me now-here

   The hours pass by, seconds don’t die

   The venom, the eye and I sigh

   A poem goes to dust, song lives by

   Wondering and wondering I cry

   Are you the you? Am I the I?

6) That year of the Satan

    That month of February

    The one with 28 moons

    And a night of full eclipse

    The Year I was born

    When the Fish ate rain, thunder

Man, the foolish

I wake up…pain in the head….throbbing in the temples….eyes tired and refusing to open. It takes 15 minutes and a cup of black coffee….not very hot….and a song “A Day in life” by Beatles to get in terms with the new day of the calendar. Sluggish and sordid….legs jammed and cramped…..a bit of stretching, and I can walk again with manageable restrain binding me. This was the way I woke up for 5 years and dragged myself in life.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am not a moron. I have actually moved so much beyond that word that I can explain you the metaphysics behind a moron and a vibrant being. But, let’s reserve that for another bright day.  With 23 years lived in the room with minimal light, doors closed and absolutely no human contact, I am the bitter feeling you detest in your life. From Kafka’s Metamorphosis to Dostoevsky’s Notes from the Underground, I am the story of resentment and rejection and in that way, I am also your truth that you casually refuse to look. How many times were you rejected by friends, family and yourself in life? Well, if the count is nil (improbable though) I request you to stop reading and continue with the plebian tasks in which you find your gratification.

I sit in a nearby coffee shop, reading and see all sorts of product of reckless, uneducated and toxic youth around me. They disgust the air I breathe but you see, I am a tolerant being. I tolerate their imbecile attempts to make their body appealing by wearing different mutations of apparels and I tolerate their ridiculous experiments with hair and beard. Now, they walk with a confidence fabricated by their tiny mind’s illusion and now, they have the pseudo composure to walk with a sense of identity and belongingness. A dog on the street is free, they are bonded with their clothes, hairstyles and possessed by the virulent thought of if the opposite gender they are accompanying is absolutely mesmerized by their presence and appearance. Such hollowness, is heavenly, is divine! For both heaven and divine are hollow and dead things. These miniscule rodents disgrace the existence that’s constantly trying to teach them so much.

Now, gentlemen, if you are one of those beings, then you are going to get rattled by what I write. We share something mutual- you laugh at me and I ridicule you. But, you are a crowd and I am a solitary being and by virtue, crowd is foolish. When was the last time you laughed on the idiosyncrasy of a seemingly introverted fellow, who looks to you a little out of sorts? Why did you laugh? Because, he was out of your code, that rigid, blinded code of yours, by which you judge after seeing with your malfunctioning microscopic eye. You don’t even realize in the process that you don’t even identify yourself with your retina.

I wonder if you have become the excretion of man’s anxiety of centuries of coming to terms with his body and mind that constantly adventures in garbage. No, I don’t deny the beauty of man. I deny the singularity…..duality, inconsistency is man’s nature. Beauty and disgrace is carried by him simultaneously. 

But, how will you know? You are busy being played by your hormones. That girl you fascinated about last time, it was nothing but a mischievous hormonal play. You will run away with hands on your mouth if that hormone is poured in a glass to make you smell it. The fascination you branded as beauty but the source of that fascination became a disgust to you. What a comical fool man is!

Your imbecility can be tolerated but what’s disturbing is the arrogance, the narcissism you associate it with.  How to save someone when he denies the existence of Sun and moon? But, then destruction is as constructive as creation. In this despair, anguish you have been put into, try to look for that one moment when existence holds your hand. When it makes you stop and wonder, that everything around is in silence, in harmony…..the trees, birds flying or the white clouds or the fragrance of flowers around you but man is in total chaos with his vehicles and his incessant hurry. No other being is running and postponing life to achieve some purpose other than man. But, man has gone crazy with goals. Not understanding that life was a gift and a gift has no other purpose but joy.  A tree has no purpose. A rose has no goal. A bird is in total joy whereas you are not even present with the tea you drink. Your mind has already travelled some place else while the cup of tea drinks itself in loneliness. There was a time when I ran like all others but then I stopped and what you call my stagnation, I call my evolution. Why to run but not drift like a cloud does with the wind? Why plan and kill one with the planning when the totality of existence has different or may be similar plan and eventually, that’s the path one is going to travel. Mind you,  I am not for inaction but for action that is done without postponing the life that is here-now. I am for the being inconsistent and contradictory. The weather contradicts itself with heat, chill, rain and dryness all the time and yet you hold to the fragmented morals of consistency in thought and action. That's idiotic! 

I wrote to disturb you. You will stop and think when you are disturbed. If you don’t, then don’t be harsh on yourself. It is going to take time, you have stopped thinking with an open mind for a long, long time and inertia will pull you back.

I am the Walrus...

                 I AM the WALRUS!!

 What remains is the darkness….the abyss…between the two tusks of the Walrus. Oh! There is choking and there is immense freedom.  I see my golden breath…my lovely golden breath…I see it...Clearly. It’s so beautiful. I am crying! The Beatles saw it too…..before I saw….and so they cried too. The Walrus…..with eyes carrying layers of Arctic history. Left in the hot ice by Lenon and McCartney and now obsessed to squeeze my golden breath. I am the Walrus…..Cuckooo-Cuckoo!!

There is a sharp trinity between the dark eyes of the walrus……It eats shellfish and wonders where is Paul. What will the Walrus eat….there is so much ice all around! Who will eat the Walrus….no one around…just so much ice.

I am the Walrus….