The indivisble UNIVERSE

6 12 2016

“The earth is one household, and we’re not treating it that way.” – David Bohm

 

 

Paul Howard (Imagine Films, Ireland) and David Peat (Bohm’s former colleague and biographer) are working on a 90-minute feature documentary on the Life and Ideas of David Bohm titled Infinite Potential.  They hope to premiere the documentary in the latter part of the Bohm centennial celebrations in 2017, which also happens to be the 25th anniversary of Bohm’s death. Imagine Films Ireland have raised 75% of the film’s budget. They are now looking for the final 25% of funding and welcome donations from individuals and organisations. 

Click here for more info on the documentary.

 





Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

26 02 2016

thank you bernie.

 





SOUL-seeking

23 02 2016

In a way goodness and truth seem to come out of the depths of the soul, and when we really know something we feel that we’ve always known it. Yet also it’s terribly distant, farther than any star. We’re sort of stretched out. It’s like beyond the world, not in the clouds or in heaven, but a light that shows the world, this world, as it really is.  – from Iris Murdoch’s Above the Gods

You could say ‘somebody is unhappy’; you could say this is sadness, and in a way that’s right, depending on what we mean. But if you think of this as the words of a soldier encountering the realities of the life of combat, or a refugee fleeing from such a world, or just a bereaved ‘soul’ (as we say), it seems to me that it’s more than that. Perhaps the case of depression is not really one of sadness. Is it perhaps a soul sickness? Psychiatrists, after all the word means ‘soul doctors.’ – Iain McGilchrist





In remembrance

11 11 2015

Ode on Intimations of Immortality  – Wordsworth

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, 
The earth, and every common sight
                 To me did seem
            Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
             Turn wheresoe’er I may,
              By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

            The rainbow comes and goes, 
            And lovely is the rose; 
            The moon doth with delight
     Look round her when the heavens are bare;
            Waters on a starry night
            Are beautiful and fair;
     The sunshine is a glorious birth;
     But yet I know, where’er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
     And while the young lambs bound
            As to the tabor’s sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief, 
            And I again am strong.
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep,--
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong:
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng.
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep, 
            And all the earth is gay;
                Land and sea
     Give themselves up to jollity,
            And with the heart of May
     Doth every beast keep holiday;--
                Thou child of joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy 
        Shepherd-boy!
				
Ye blesséd Creatures, I have heard the call 
     Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; 
     My heart is at your festival,
       My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
         O evil day! if I were sullen 
         While Earth herself is adorning
              This sweet May-morning;
         And the children are culling
              On every side
         In a thousand valleys far and wide
         Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm, 
And the babe leaps up on his mother’s arm:--
         I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
         --But there’s a tree, of many, one, 
A single field which I have look’d upon, 
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
              The pansy at my feet
              Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam? 
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting; 
The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
          Hath had elsewhere its setting
               And cometh from afar;
          Not in entire forgetfulness,
          And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come 
               From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy! 
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
               Upon the growing Boy,
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, 
               He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east 
     Must travel, still is Nature’s priest,
          And by the vision splendid
          Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away, 
And fade into the light of common day.

Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; 
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, 
And, even with something of a mother’s mind,
               And no unworthy aim,
          The homely nurse doth all she can 
To make her foster-child, her inmate, Man,
               Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.

Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years’ darling of a pigmy size!
See, where ‘mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother’s kisses,
With light upon him from his father’s eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;
          A wedding or a festival, 
          A mourning or a funeral;
               And this hath now his heart,
          And unto this he frames his song:
               Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife; 
          But it will not be long 
          Ere this be thrown aside, 
          And with new joy and pride
The little actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his ‘humorous stage’
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That life brings with her in her equipage; 
          As if his whole vocation
          Were endless imitation.

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie 
          Thy soul’s immensity;
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read’st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal Mind,--
          Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
          On whom those truths rest
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the day, a master o’er a slave,
A Presence which is not to be put by; 
          To whom the grave
Is but a lonely bed, without the sense of sight
Of day or the warm light,
A place of thoughts where we in waiting lie;
Thou little child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being’s height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
          0 joy! that in our embers
          Is something that doth live,
          That Nature yet remembers
          What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest,
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:--
          --Not for these I raise
          The song of thanks and praise;
     But for those obstinate questionings
     Of sense and outward things,
     Fallings from us, vanishings,
     Blank misgivings of a creature
Moving about in worlds not realized, 
High instincts, before which our mortal nature 
Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised:
     But for those first affections,
     Those shadowy recollections,
          Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, 
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
     Uphold us--cherish--and have power to make 
Our noisy years seem moments in the being 
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
               To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
               Nor man nor boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
   Hence, in a season of calm weather
          Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
               Which brought us hither;
          Can in a moment travel thither--
And see the children sport upon the shore, 
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

Then, sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
          And let the young lambs bound
          As to the tabor’s sound!
     We, in thought, will join your throng, 
          Ye that pipe and ye that play, 
          Ye that through your hearts to-day 
          Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright 
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
     Though nothing can bring back the hour 
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
          We will grieve not, rather find
          Strength in what remains behind;
          In the primal sympathy
          Which having been must ever be;
          In the soothing thoughts that spring
          Out of human suffering;
          In the faith that looks through death, 
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

And 0, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquish’d one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway;
I love the brooks which down their channels fret
Even more than when I tripp’d lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born day
               Is lovely yet;
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality; 
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
   Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
   Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
   To me the meanest flower that blows can give
   Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.






Spirit of Peace: mustering strength on this Good Friday

27 03 2015

Holding you close, dear Kenya

“Mami, I don’t understand why they call it GOOD Friday when it was a sad Friday.” – LUNA (age 6)

“There are misconceptions and misperceptions about the real Islam. Religion is guarded by its spirit, by its core, not by human beings. Human beings only take the core and deviate it to the right or left.” – Abdel Fattah Al Sisi





Agape and the habitation of symbols

20 12 2014

One who has control over the mind
is tranquil in heat and cold,
in pleasure and pain,
and in honor and dishonour.
– Bhagavad Gita

 The world is a parable — the habitation of symbols — the phantoms of spiritual things immortal shown in material shape. May the blessed second-sight be mine — to recognize under these beautiful forms of earth the ANGELS who wear them; for I am sure we may walk with them if we will, and hear them speak.
– Maud Ruthyn in Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Uncle Silas, Conclusion

Dear Anarchist,

My name is Philomena and I am 8 years old. I am writing to you because I think there has been some misunderstanding. A couple of months ago I was walking past this wall and noticed what you wrote: “Fuck Israel, No Controla.” I didn’t know what it meant so I asked my mother. She explained that Israel ιs a country and that the word fuck was possibly being used because you were angry at Israel.

photo

– – How can a person be angry with a country? I asked.
– Yes, it is a strange thing to be angry with a country. I suspect that this anarchist, like many anarchists, is actually angry with the people governing the country—the people making decisions on behalf of the people living in the country. Because they feel there is nothing they can do about their frustrations, because they feel they don’t have a way to influence what’s going on in the world around them, they make their feelings known any way they can.
– What do we here in Nea Makri have to do with Israel?
– Well nothing directly, but perhaps the artist who wrote on the wall wants to let us know that there are things going on in the world that we should be more conscious about.
– Like what?
– Well leaders often forget that the people of the world all come from one family. When leaders make the mistake of thinking about the world as a game of us vs. them—of winners and losers. When leaders think about the world in terms of absolutes—where there is only one right answer. When leaders stop listening to voices of the people.
– Isn’t it the job of leaders to listen to the people?
– Yes, but they don’t always. Sometimes they become too powerful and lose their capacity for empathy. They’ve stopped feeling what the people feel. They’ve sort of detached from the people. Anarchists, like the one who wrote on this wall, probably don’t trust in their leaders—they don’t trust in their government anymore.
– Can we erase these words? It just doesn’t seem very nice to look at.

photo-3
So you see, dear Anarchist, it was my idea to cover up what you wrote on the wall.

My mom and I had an idea for something we would put up on the wall as a message to you to make you feel that your neighbours understood how you were feeling. We wanted to make an art work to symbolise peace. But we didn’t get to it in time and so then you came back to the wall thinking that the police erased your message to Israel… and you were even angrier at the police, angrier at leaders in control. But it was me. Me and my mom who erased your words, not the police. My mom explained to me some of what is going on in the world today. How leaders mix religion with politics and in so doing lose the spirit of God within them.

I’m sorry you were so angry and thought it was the police.

photo-2

 

In response to this, we began experimenting with a number of ideas for a painting for you:

photo 1photo 2photo 3photo 1photo 2photo 3

 

 

 

photo 2photo 3
photo 5And then we finally came up with the painting below. It is meant as a symbol of hope that together we can embrace the spirit of God and find universal harmony somehow by listening to the sound of the earth’s vibrations. We are all children of the earth. We are all brothers and sisters. Please accept this as our gift to you and do not be angry. I pray that together as artists we can help the world to place greater faith in our extraordinary creative capacity for imagination and imagine for ourselves a world of peace.

With love,
Philomena (my mom says my name means daughter of light and love)

FullSizeRenderFullSizeRender-3FullSizeRender-4photo 2

photo 1

 

THE BRAIN is drawn as a maze encasing a number of religious symbols. We humans often make the mistake of interpreting God with our minds, which only leads to a fragmentation of the spirit. Perhaps we can strive to find unity through the vibrations of a shared spirit that rests in our hearts instead of our head.

The PACHAMAMA: who sits at the entrance to the maze is the goddess of the Andes region of South America. She is seen as mother earth and mother time.

THE BOAT or OSRAM NE NSOROMMA: “The Moon and the Star” is a symbol from West Africa that is meant to reflect the love and harmony that exists in the bonding between a man an a woman.

THE ANCHOR: The Anchor is a Symbol of both hope and steadfastness. Each time we raise our anchor we leave the stagnant portion of our life behind to begin a new journey, a new era of our life filled with a cleansed spirit of dreams and new aspirations. We are steadfast in our vision of the pursuit of our new dreams.

The moment we decide to drop our mental Anchor once more is the moment we finally say to ourselves “here is where I now stand” and “these are the rules I will govern myself by. We are them able to ground ourselves and feel stable despite the might the waves, tides, and currents. When we are properly anchored we are able to trust confidently in the skills and knowledge that lie in the subconscious realm of our inner-self; our God-within; our Atman. (you can read more about symbolism of anchor here: http://www.aseekersthoughts.com/2012/02/anchor-as-symbol.html)

——————————thank you sweet Σοφία Μ for translation.

Αγαπητοί Αναρχικοί,

Ονομάζομαι Φιλομένη και είμαι 8 χρονών. Γράφω σε εσας επειδή θεωρώ πως έχει συμβεί κάποια παρεξήγηση. Μερικούς μήνες πριν, περπατούσα μπροστά από έναν τοίχο και παρατήρησα πώς είχατε γράψει “Fuck Israel, No Controla.” Δεν ήξερα τι σημαίνει οπότε ρώτησα την μητέρα μου. Εκείνη μου εξήγησε πως το Ισραήλ είναι μια χώρα και πως χρησιμοποιήσατε την λέξη “fuck” eπειδή πιθανόν είστε νευριασμένοι με το Ισραήλ.

  • Πώς μπορεί ένα άτομο να είναι νευριασμένο με μια χώρα? Ρώτησα
  • Ναι, είναι περίεργο πράγμα να είσαι νευριασμένος με μια χώρα. Η αλήθεια είναι πως αυτοί οι αναρχικοί, όπως όλοι οι αναρχικοί , είναι στην πραγματικότητα θυμωμένοι με αυτούς οι οποίοι κυβερνούν αυτη την χώρα – με τους ανθρώπους οι οποίοι πέρνουν αποφάσεις εκ μέρους των ανθρώπων που κατοικούν σε αυτή την χώρα – και επειδή νιώθουν πως δεν υπάρχει τίποτα που μπορούν να κάνουν , επειδή νιώθουν πως δεν υπάρχει κατι που μπορουν να κάνουν ώστε να επηρεάσουν τον κόσμο γύρω τους , εκφράζουν τα συναισθήματα τους με όποιο τρόπο μπορούν.
  • Τι σχέση έχει το Ισραήλ με την Νέα Μάκρη?
  • Λοιπόν όχι άμεσα, ο καλλιτεχνης που το έγραψε ήθελε να μας ενημερώσει για τα γεγονότα που συμβαίνουν στον κόσμο για τα οποία πρέπει να προβληματιστούμε …
  • Όπως ?
  • Λοιπόν οι αρχηγοί των κρατών συχνά ξεχνάνε πως οι άνθρωποι του κόσμου προέρχονται από την ίδια οικογενεια. Κάνουν το λάθος να πιστεύουν πως ο κόσμος είναι ένα παιχνιδι για χαμένουν και νικητές. Όταν οι ηγέτες βλέπουν τον κόσμο με όρους και προυποθέσεις – τότε υπάρχει μόνο μία σωστή απάντηση. Όταν οι αρχηγοί σταματάνε να ακούνε τις φωνές των ανθρώπων …
  • Δεν είναι η δουλειά τους να μας ακούνε?
  • Ναι αλλά δεν το κάνουν πάντα. Καμιά φορά γίνονται τόσο ισχυροί και χάνουν την δυνατότητα να αντιλαμβάνονται τις ανάγκες μας. Σταματάνε να νιώθουν ότι νιώθουν οι άλλοι άνθρωποι. Οι αναρχικοί όπως αυτοί που γράψαν αυτό στον τοίχο πιθανότατα δεν εμπιστεύονται τους ηγέτες .
  • Μπορούμε να σβήσουμε αυτές τις λέξεις? Δεν φαίνεται πολύ ωραίο να το κοιτάς.

Οπότε όπως βλέπετε, αγαπητοί αναρχικοί, ήταν ιδέα μου να καλύψω αυτό που γράψατε στον τοίχο. Η μητέρα μου και εγώ είχαμε μια ιδέα για το τι θα μπορούσαμε να βάλουμε στον τοίχο για να καλύψουμε αυτό το μύνημα για να κάνουμε τους γείτονες να καταλάβουν πως νιώθετε. Θέλαμε να κάνουμε ένα έργο τέχνης με μυνήματα ειρήνης. Αλλά δεν το ετοιμάσαμε στην ώρα μας και μετά ήρθατε εσείς στον τοίχο και νομίζατε πως το μύνημα το έσβησαν αστυνομικοί, επειδή ήταν θυμωμένοι με τους αναρχικούς. Αλλά ήμουν εγώ. Εγώ και η μαμά μου σβήσαμε αυτές τις λέξεις. Η μαμά μου, μου εξήγησε τι συμβαίνει στον κόσμο αυτές τις μέρες και πως οι ηγέτες συγχέουν την θρησκεία με την πολιτική και πως με αυτό τον τρόπο χάνουμε την πίστη μας.

Συγνώμη που θυμώσατε και νομίζατε πως ήταν η αστυνομία.

Σαν απάντησε σε αυτό , ξεκινήσαμε να πειραματιζόμαστε με διάφορες ιδέες για να ζωγραφίσουμε για εσάς

Και μετά επιτέλους καταλήξαμε σε αυτή την ζωγραφια. Η οποία είναι το σύμβολο της ελπίδας όπου μαζί με το πνεύμα του θεού θα βρούμε κάπως την αρμονία ακούγοντας τα μυνηματα της γης. Όλοι είμαστε παιδιά αυτού του κόσμου. Όλοι είμαστε αδέλφια. Σας παρακαλώ αποδεχτείτε αυτό σαν δώρο για εσάς και μην είστε άλλο θυμωμένοι. Προσεύχομαι πως όλοι μαζι σαν καλλιτέχνες μπορούμε να βοηθήσουμε αυτό τον κόσμο να βάλουμε πίστη στην δημιουργικότητα μας και να φανταστούμε τον κόσμο με ειρήνη.

Με αγάπη,

Φιλομένη( η μητέρα μου λέει πως το όνομα μου σημαίνει κόρη του φωτός και της αγάπης)

Ο ΕΓΚΕΦΑΛΟΣ: είναι μια μάζα η οποία ανακαλεί έναν αριθμό από σύμβολα. Εμείς οι άνθρωποι συχνά κάνουμε το λάθος να ερμηνεύουν το Θεό στο μυαλό μας, το οποίο οδηγεί σε καταστροφή του πνεύματος. Πιθανότατα χρειάζεται να προσπαθήσουμε να βρουμε αρμονία μέσα από τα μυνήματα για ομαδικό πνεύμα τα οποία θα ξεκουράζονται στην καρδιά μας και όχι στο μυαλό μας.

Η ΒΑΡΚΑ : « Το φεγγάρι και τα αστέρια» είναι ένα σύμβολο από την δυτική Αφρική το οποίο αντιπροσωπέυει την αγάπη και την αρμονία τα οποία υπάρχουν ανάμεσα σε μια γυναίκα και έναν άντρα.

Η ΑΓΚΥΡΑ : η Άγκυρα είναι ένα σύμβολο για την ελπίδα και την σταθερότητα. Κάθε φορά που υψώνουμε την άγκυρα αφήνουμε πίσω ένα κομμάτι της ζωής μας για να ξεκινήσουμε ένα καινούργιο ταξίδι, μια καινούργια εποχή της ζωής μας ξεκινάει με καθαρό το πνεύμα των ονείρων και καινούργιων φιλοδοξιών. Είμαστε απτόητοι στον τρόπο που βλέπουμε τα επιτεύγματα των ονείρων μας.





GOD: angels among us

8 11 2014

The word angel comes from the Greek word angelos, meaning “messenger.” In Western religions, the word specifically describes a kind, or benevolent, being. Today, November 8, celebrates the two angels Mihail and Gavril who are constantly part of our lives, protecting us and forgiving our sins, guiding the souls. The Saint Mihail and Gavril day is also known as the ‘Summer of the winter’ – the last warm days until Christmas. It is also the name day of Castorius, patron saint of sculptors, stonemasons, stonecutters.

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‘Angels are active spirits with intelligence, will and knowledge. They have no bodily needs or desires. They have no worries about the future either, and no fear of death. They have no anxiety about their salvation and no struggle for immorality, being already immortal (Luke 20:36). Unlike men, they are not faltering between good and evil, being already good when God created them. The Angels are the lowest of all the orders and the closest to man. They announce the lesser mysteries and intentions of God and teach people to live virtuously and righteously. They are appointed to guard each of us who believe. They are neither aged nor aging, but unchangingly youthful, beautiful and strong.’

‘Behold, two guardian angels appointed to learn a man’s doings learn and note them, one sitting on the right and one on the left. Not a word does he utter but there is a sentinel by him, ready to note it.’ (Quran 50:17-18)

Mal’ach: ‘In Judaism angels sometimes show a little independence of mind. They even argue with God, making a persuasive case that human beings should not be created. The angels argue that people will commit offenses against truth and peace. Since the angels’ arguments are not refutable–human beings do indeed sin continually against both truth and peace–God dashes truth to the ground, and creates human beings in spite of their deficiencies (Genesis Rabbah 8:5).’