move with your senses

As you, my dear reader, are my audience. We both realize that we focus on the message out of what I am writing or better what we read what so ever. As we conditioned ourselves on so called outcomes…that have a spirit …for a day…, we take away the poetry and lock our selves as slaves of a process.

 

The only one who can read and do something with it, is the one who does something to divert what is called depression or cynicism.

 

People who gave away their responsibility are confused big time. In their real stupidity, strolling through the day without any sense of development. Giving away their choice making to economics… say … well marketed companies, politicians and nationalists, religious fanatics, media. All these are led by self-preservation, NOT building a better world… it is not top-sport where you can directly monitor results.

 

Oh how inviting to follow an imaginary but smart presented behaviour predictor.

Kafka told it. Caesar told it, Jesus told it, Pascal told it, Kierkegaard told it, Huxley and how many more… do NOT be part of the followers or any other crowd

 

The model of the world as presented, – more even accepted as a causal ‘reality’, is just a model. Not our model. Talking about it is wasting time and life.

 

The act of acting keeps us away from destroying ourselves. Meanwhile you serve by sharing something worthwhile.

You know that what is communicated must make sense in a certain way. The suggestion that it leads somewhere. As we do not want to know where we are going to…we love the stories…movies… scene’s

 

Life is as useless as can be …Nobody wants the „truth“. They want to be their fucked up self…
There is no sin….So there are no sinners?

Imagine what manslaughter that would bring-

No no enjoy each and every second

So stay in tune … Turn everything into a story that suggests causality ….That will set anybody
Free. The dance is around creation.

 

Born on this earth, in this universe that has all potential and intelligence to create and connect… the highest goal of a large part of the insane stupid humanity is to ‘celebrate’ nothingness. Life as a sort of ‘permanent vacation’, making selfies and other empty ego-trips.

Instead of learning, growing and connection to the enormous myth life is…

 

We used to have words like lethargy and apathy to address these ‘humans’. Now they are so smug… as mainstream media supports their brain death style of living… they gave audio’s and visual to keep them in their world of consumption without digestion. Good thing is that economics and politics are taking over their ‘world’ … so they need to go back to being humble

 

Behind the curtains, in your moments of silent contemplation… pray… without words other than those that jam your internal monologue

 

The loving words that have been operational ever since the streetlights were supported by shopping windows, are called window dressing. Like as a theatre and the collected cells playing ego in a mirror image reflection

 

I grew up in a neighbourhood were no body was trying to cheat the other… in their own neighbourhood that is. There was a lot of alcohol abuse… as always connected to alcohol…. A lot of fighting. In pubs and in doors where women, children and men were beaten up or the other way around.

 

The working class hero’s… no sense of nothing. Let alone of reality. Then again as trustworthy and down to earth as can be… again for their own tribe. I learned to see it as a tribes way of living. No sense for aesthetics, meanwhile the unknow translated into voodoo like selfishness. So it is a joke, all is a joke… A killing joke….But a joke

 

It is the rare mixture of different kind of ‘people’. The best time of my life I had was dancing, stealing, working, laughing

 

Until I met designing, literature, art, culture, science and the worlds behind the stars. I started walking. Sitting, writing, talking without sound.

With gratitude to my dog and all that passionately wanted to be discovered….

The sense of sensitivity I almost destroyed with alcohol.

 

Master playing an instrument

Sing

Dance

Mix science with spirituality

Life is a sensory journey. A one time event. A gift that you need to honour. Honour great musicians, writers, chefs, designers, people, animals.

 

Each and every day live whilst doing. Act as if there is no future.

 

We do not know what is. We do not know what is coming. Taking care of each other. Taking care of the planet. Dropping the ego. Intensifying the sensitive experiences…. All things that should really take place.

Love is the ability to connect… there for growth.

 

Let us call for Serendipity the unplanned fortunate discovery. Serendipity is a common occurrence throughout the history of product invention and scientific discovery.

 

Be busy with various arts of storytelling. You are not the person to think about, to yourself you are not interesting. Show that you are interested in perfection

 

There is a way to live the softness that colours every inch, each second of your existence. Embrace nature. Not only dogs and cats…. Birds… seagulls….small and big.

 

Back in time

 

There was this woman. In psychiatry. I was working there. She was in the asylum already for 28 years. Dora was her name. The ward for the daytime was big. 15 by 12 meter and 4,5 meter high. White walls. 5 round tables on which the 20 ladies were sitting. 28 long years. From 8 in the morning until 20.00 in the evening. Once a week a group walk outside. No visitors in the last 24 years. Clothes to buy were brought 2 times a year. The sleeping ward was filled with 8 beds. 3 sinks separated by 3 curtains. Every day at 8 in the morning you could see 3 women standing naked with a washcloth… completely helpless…’washing’ themselves in a sequence that was not really learned as a child. First the ‘pussy’, then the ass…. Then the face….

With love and passion they embraced me, curled my hair with the same hands….

I worked on that department for 6 months. Average the women were 70 years or so. Hardly talking with each other, still they were a group. All together there were 32 women.

Dora was special in many ways. Often she was sitting next to the door. The moment any body of the nursing personal came in she shouted their…wrong…name. in their ‘service minded attitude’ they always responded.

Dora often looked at me… shaking her head without really making a move. Tiny signs gave away her thoughts, her feeling… for the average out stander there was nothing to notice. In due time I learned to feel her feelings… lock on to her thoughts…it happened that I started crying …. She than looked at me…. The eyes a little more wet than otherwise.

Where, at the start of me being there, I felt as if I was with non-communicating bodies…locked up in this asylum. Most of them mothers, grandmothers… almost never having any visitors… being there over 25 years. Seemingly not communicating with each other. What to think of this life? A closed and locked ward. People who ‘professionally’ want to ‘help’ without any focus on what outcome or way to the outcome what so ever. Frozen in their belief that the ‘diagnose’ who has been leading will be leading. Payed love and friendship for say 38 hours p.p. per week.

No perspective. Convincing does not help. Doing seen as acting. A horrible scenario.

In this frame, working as a psychiatric nurse I, learned a lot about the smallest signs and signals in communication and interaction. Specially with the autistic and geriatric people. They left out the believe that communication has to make sense if you want result.  Perhaps not being able to communicate in a way that they felt interaction could bring result. Certainly not communicating on the same wavelength… that would bring the sense of connection. The intrinsic feeling that there was nothing to life or die for. Nothing to wait for. No outcome that could be changed. Still they lived. For what and whom I do not know.

I gave all possible love and care. Also as substitute head of a private retirement home, with 80 people to take care of. Rich people with a career life behind them. Most days did not have a desired outcome. Tragic empty regularity for the most.

 

It gave me gratitude for every moment that I was there trying to serve them. The awareness that I need to build and create. That life, living… has to do with moving and sharing.

Just a few lines along your road

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