The eternal beauty of human potential

[ASIA]

Dear Fellows of spaceship Avalon,

I do not believe any gods but ART.
Art of being, Art of doing, Art of imagining, Art of loving, ...
We are the BIJOU among the stars. Wonderfully evolving Pieces of Art.

« What a piece of work is a man!
How noble in reason! How infinite in faculty!
In form and moving how express and admirable!
In action how like an angel!
In apprehension how like a god! »

William Shakespeare, "Hamlet", Act 2 scene 2
Greatest English dramatist & poet (1564 - 1616)


Hope to make you smile with this video and to inspire you to post anything you love and admire in your fellows men.

I often think, that we should spend more time on recognizing what we have already accomplished in so many fields and so many difficult situations. And then trust the process, as every true Artist, trust the process, one breath at the time .... ASIA

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qR3rK0kZFkg

[ASIA]

" Music is the wine that fills the cup of silence. " Robert Fripp

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZD83...layer_embedded
Horowitz plays Scarlatti. Sonata in F Minor, L 187

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZD83bTF9I4

[Gone002]

Great stuff sometimes the mind needs to be reminded of what can be done if you focus.

[1159]

Hello ASIA, both videos are beautiful, both in contast and simplicity. And maybe they meet in some paradoxical way. This is the mystery and beauty of human soul that reaches into the darkness of space. That calls those alien races to watch in curiosity and wonder. Reminds me of T.S.Eliot | East Coker from the Four Quartets Link here Art transcends logic and digital knowledge. It is the part of us that belongs to the gods that dwell within us all.

Thank you for sharing and bringing meaning.

[edina]

ASIA, this is just great!!!!, on the first video, I was just so happy, I laughed at how wonderful it is to see a kid love themselves. When I'm driving people bonkers, like that doesn't happen much, I usually stop and say, with a playful glint in my eye, "Gotta Love Me". I don't if anyone remembers that old dinasour sitcom in the US, from the 80's. My daughter used to always say to her father, "Not the Mama", maybe that will help people remember the series.

Wouldn't it be so cool for us adults to remember ourselves and children, and how much we love life?

This is such a wonderful share, thanks sooooooo much!!!!

[ASIA]

Posted by 1159 (here)
Hello ASIA, both videos are beautiful, both in contast and simplicity. And maybe they meet in some paradoxical way. This is the mystery and beauty of human soul that reaches into the darkness of space. That calls those alien races to watch in curiosity and wonder. Reminds me of T.S.Eliot | East Coker from the Four Quartets Link here Art transcends logic and digital knowledge. It is the part of us that belongs to the gods that dwell within us all.

Thank you for sharing and bringing meaning.

Dear 1159, I absolutely love the poems of Thomas Stearns Eliot.
Thanks for the link. http://www.tristan.icom43.net/quartets/coker.html

This one is my favorit :

( dedication to 33 )

III

O dark dark dark. They all go into the dark,
The vacant interstellar spaces, the vacant into the vacant,
The captains, merchant bankers, eminent men of letters,
The generous patrons of art, the statesmen and the rulers,
Distinguished civil servants, chairmen of many committees,
Industrial lords and petty contractors, all go into the dark,
And dark the Sun and Moon, and the Almanach de Gotha
And the Stock Exchange Gazette, the Directory of Directors,
And cold the sense and lost the motive of action.
And we all go with them, into the silent funeral,
Nobody's funeral, for there is no one to bury.
I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed
With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness,
And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama
And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away—
Or as, when an underground train, in the tube, stops too long between stations
And the conversation rises and slowly fades into silence
And you see behind every face the mental emptiness deepen
Leaving only the growing terror of nothing to think about;
Or when, under ether, the mind is conscious but conscious of nothing—
I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth.

You say I am repeating
Something I have said before. I shall say it again.
Shall I say it again? In order to arrive there,
To arrive where you are, to get from where you are not,
You must go by a way wherein there is no ecstasy.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not.
And what you do not know is the only thing you know
And what you own is what you do not own
And where you are is where you are not.

[firstlook]

I am reading The dark tower series by Stephen King. I believe the imagination of others links to our own in so many synchronized ways. Fans of art connect to something deeper then just emotional appreciation. There is a timeless conscious connection to others sometimes between a piece of writing, a song, a painting, etc....

[ASIA]

Posted by firstlook (here)
I am reading The dark tower series by Stephen King. I believe the imagination of others links to our own in so many synchronized ways. Fans of art connect to something deeper then just emotional appreciation. There is a timeless conscious connection to others sometimes between a piece of writing, a song, a painting, etc....

Dear FIRSTLOOK, you described IT so marvelously!
Yes, it seems that there is a living omnipresent " library field ", in which artists connect and bring the bits of truth to the visible world.

What you wrote made me think of these two poems & artists :

Silence by Stephen King

Nothing but the insect
whine of chemicals moving between refrigerator walls:
the mind becomes CONFESSIONAL
(enamel)
murder
lurks
I stand with books in hand
the feary silence of fury
waiting for the furnace
to kick on

Haiku by Kobayashi Issa

.蝶飛んで箸に折るる藪の梅
chô tonde hashi ni oraruru yabu no ume

a flying butterfly
broken by chopsticks...
wild plum

[ASIA]

To me, ART, as a process - in whatever of fields - is the only place of freedom & wonder.
A space, where the truth exists before the proof. The space where any subjects, or human behaviors can be named, penetrated & accepted.

THE TRUE ARTIST - in each of us - THE ONE WHO IS DIVINELY GIFTED, THE INNOCENT ONE or THE FOOL ONE, knows how to surrender fear & judgement and knows how to fuse & love unconditionally oneself and its creation.

Artists talk often of their creativity in terms of pregnancy.
As any mother, the true artist is focused & totally unifited with its " offspring ".
All mothers or artists know, they extend life, expand consciousness.

To me, during an athentique creative process, ( as in making love act ) the competition does not exist. As well as for pregnant mothers the competition has any sense. ( in a healthy world )

I do not believe any gods but ART.
Art of being, Art of doing, Art of imagining, Art of loving, ...

From ART & ARTISTS I learned a lot. About human potential, tolerance, beauty & love. And still I do. I deepen my Spirituality throughout of Arts and vice versa.

In my case the communication with artists, was more gratifying, that the interactions with so called Light Workers. They talk so often of ascension, new human being, unconditional love, etc ... and yet, some of them are close to the fanatic like attitude, hiding behind two words Love & Light and often ready to accept anything in those names.

The term of God was replaced with the term of Mother Gaïa and all floods, earthquakes and the death of millions of people could be justify now in the name of Spiritual Shift of Mother Earth.

Of course, any one who ask the questions or do not think like them risks to be rejected, as a not enlightened one, one of low vibration, or egocentered, etc. It sadness me a lot.

I am impassioned by human potential, but also very alert with any temptation to create the seemingly new cults & trends on the same old basis.

So, that's why I love so much ART and enjoy the contact with ARTISTS.
They know the duty of self-acceptance, surrender & focus.
They know the ecstasy of creator & creature fused into ONE. And that is all I yearn for.

ART is this land where we are all equal & already free.


ASIA

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=va1t6a0zCkQ

Tom Waits reads " The Laughing Heart" by Charles Bukowski

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is a light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

[ASIA]

Fellows, Listen & Enjoy! ASIA

David Whyte maintains that poetry provides a treasure of wisdom that gives guidance in times of crisis. The insights of poetry can facilitate an awakening of vision and a breakthrough from the paralysis caused by confusion, doubt and humdrum routine.

***

Lost

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,
And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers,
I have made this place around you,
If you leave it you may come back again, saying Here.
No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or a bush does is lost on you,
You are surely lost. Stand still. The forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you.


David Wagoner http://judithpordon.tripod.com/poetr...oner_lost.html


‎

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XO0OjtThqyI

[Gaia]

You made my day with this video, So cute and so irrisistable.

[ASIA]

Posted by Gaia (here)
You made my day with this video, So cute and so irrisistable.

YOUPiiiiii !!!!!! , ..... ASIA IS HAPPY and smile laaaaaaaaaaarge like this!

[1159]

Here is a sadly moving poem that although very personal to Dylan Thomas regarding his Father, is ironically a metaphor for our own generation... as the darkness closes in.

Dylan Thomas. Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night.

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1fTlIsUGks

[Dennis Leahy]

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBk3ynRbtsw

I recommend that you resist the temptation to click on the video, and rather, watch it full screen at Vimeo in HD resolution here (http://vimeo.com/14803194) if you have the broadband capability.

If you're not moved by this art, well, your next-of-kin should make funeral arrangements.

Dennis

[1159]

Posted by ASIA (here)
Fellows, Listen & Enjoy!

ASIA

David Whyte maintains that poetry provides a treasure of wisdom that gives guidance in times of crisis. The insights of poetry can facilitate an awakening of vision and a breakthrough from the paralysis caused by confusion, doubt and humdrum routine.

David Whyte speaks a profound truth here, do not seek to find the way in the forest, let the forest find you. Thank-you ASIA for that clip and also for starting one of the most meaningful threads here. I am convinced that art is the engine behind the human soul, the expression that brings us closest to our true and greatest potential.

[ASIA]

Posted by 1159 (here)
Here is a sadly moving poem that although very personal to Dylan Thomas regarding his Father, is ironically a metaphor for our own generation... as the darkness closes in.

Dylan Thomas. Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night.

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1fTlIsUGks

Oh Boy, ... must I add that I love those two men, ... Thanks 1159. When I am moved I feel alive.

There is a link to the video of this poem read by Dylan Thomas.

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MyosFiZQP8

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

[Zook]

Good morning Good Dennis!

Posted by Dennis Leahy (here)

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBk3ynRbtsw

I recommend that you resist the temptation to click on the video, and rather, watch it full screen at Vimeo in HD resolution here (http://vimeo.com/14803194) if you have the broadband capability.
If you're not moved by this art, well, your next-of-kin should make funeral arrangements.
Dennis

Not moved.

Bestilled and in awe.

The kick does indeed come near the end if one waits for it. Although I can't reconcile the continuum of moments leading up to the magical moment (when the weighty realization of transience, arrives) ... with the concept of waiting. Pure magic.

Thank you.

[ASIA]

LOOK, LOOK HOW BEAUTIFUL WE ARE MY FELLOWS !

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUGewBdAy8c

more : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Édouard_Lock

CHOREOGRAPHER: Édouard Lock

LaLaLa HUMAN STEPS : Andrea Boardman, Nancy Crowley, Mistaya Hemingway, Keir Knight, Chun Hong Li, Bernard Martin, Jason Shipley-Holmes, Billy Smith, Naomi Stikeman, Zofia Tujaka

MUSICAL COMPOSITION : David Lang

MUSICIANS : Alexandre Castonguay cello, Simon Claude violin, Njo Kong Kie piano & musical direction

VOCALIST : Nadine Medawar

[Gajanana]

Posted by ASIA (here)
LOOK, LOOK HOW BEAUTIFUL WE ARE MY FELLOWS !

Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUGewBdAy8c

more : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Édouard_Lock

CHOREOGRAPHER: Édouard Lock

LaLaLa HUMAN STEPS : Andrea Boardman, Nancy Crowley, Mistaya Hemingway, Keir Knight, Chun Hong Li, Bernard Martin, Jason Shipley-Holmes, Billy Smith, Naomi Stikeman, Zofia Tujaka

MUSICAL COMPOSITION : David Lang

MUSICIANS : Alexandre Castonguay cello, Simon Claude violin, Njo Kong Kie piano & musical direction

VOCALIST : Nadine Medawar

OMG!! this..... lost for words. The feeling inside of me - wow! ****ing wow!

[Bollinger]

Asia,

Much appreciate this thread you have started. Indeed it will, I believe, resonate with a large section of the forum audience and provide a welcome break from the usual subjects on other threads.

I'm bound to ask, since you have so much interest and love for poetry, whether you have written some of your own and if so, I'm sure we'd all like to read it.

In the meantime and since I share the love of poetry with you, here is one particular poem with which I have always identified and has (for whatever reason) stuck with me since my school days.

Written by Thomas Hardy - The Darkling Thrush

I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-gray,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.

The land’s sharp features seemed to be
The Century’s corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
The ancient pulse of germ and birth
Was shrunken hard and dry,
And every spirit upon earth
Seemed fervourless as I.

At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited ;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.

So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
And I was unaware.


B