What's it all about then.?

[Hjarloprillar]

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
`My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away".

Poetry best captures philosophy.
The Kants and Hegels talk.

The Arnolds, Yeats and Shelley define.

Thinking is an art not a pure mechanism. anymore than ink and paper.


“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a singularity. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest our potential within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

[thedoc]

Work hard and build much,
Accomplish all that you dream to do,
Leave much to feed the sands of decay.

[Hjarloprillar]

Work hard and build much,
Accomplish all that you dream to do,
Leave much to feed the sands of decay.

Doc

Greets.. how you? Be well my friend.

I try and i suppose thats all i can do. A being overflowing with ideas.

alea iacta est

[thedoc]

Priller,
Things are good here, the grandaughter is taking her nap, the grandson is playing with legos, so they're not fighting, it's nice and quiet. I would say that most of my efforts are directed at the grandchildren in one way or another, part of my time is spent on a model railroad, for myself and because the grandkids really like to see trains running.
Thanks for being my friend.
Doc

[Hjarloprillar]

Doc . You will always be my friend..
Your post on perception some 2 years back [ the road sign no-one else perceived.] defined my position,, your good will and laughter. . gave me hope.
One wishes in this world a fellow human being... tada.. its you. lol

I am a lucky man to have met one who 'thinks'

my granddaughter is already by-passing mom and dad and saying.. 'granpa said.'

sneaky little minx

[Ned]

Counterpoint

My species
invented
death camps,
guillotines,
vivisection,
ethnic atrocity,

but discovered
sonnets,
counterpoint,
impressionism,
microphotography...

...no surprise that
it has evolved
a paranoid
schizophrenic
personality.

[Ned]

PS. The question of the thread intrigued me.

My first reply would suggest that it is all about us.

However:

The blue heron

The blue heron conjured itself out of hot shimmering air,
or, maybe it just floated up from the marsh
by the grayish-blue band of the road I was driving on.
It did not seem to fly, just hovered
with lazy indifference to the gravity
binding me to the ground.

It was huge: all wings, neck and legs
yet it had the beauty of the improbable:
all curves carrying a head,
mostly just beak:
a feathery mosquito
with a five-foot wingspan.

Herons are so mysterious,
so rare,
an omen, a sign,
a revelation with great importance -
I asked what message it brought
to a human on a quest.

It did not reply directly,
just kept ahead of me,
out of reach,
transcending the obvious and predictable
to something almost completely unknown,
yet frighteningly familiar:

It seemed to say:
existence is not uniquely human,
the God we blame
made us all part of the puzzle,
with equally significant roles
in teaching one another
about beauty, truth
and harmony in the universe.

I thanked him for this piece
I have been missing
through a lifetime of trying to understand -
the obvious answer to an age-old question:
It’s not all about us, people,
it is about life…
…we are just a small
and not always important part.

It's about being, loving, dying,
reborning and retrying,
forever,
or until we finally,
one day,
realize
that we are not that different
from anything alive
on this Planet,
we are not many, but
we are
only
one.

[Hjarloprillar]

ned , good poem. made me think..

[Hjarloprillar]

Counterpoint

My species
invented
death camps,
guillotines,
vivisection,
ethnic atrocity,

but discovered
sonnets,
counterpoint,
impressionism,
microphotography...

...no surprise that
it has evolved
a paranoid
schizophrenic
personality.

Excellent
------------------------------------------
BTW
Microphotography is rarely mentioned anywhere. I have 16 GB of RAM to accommodate super hi res 3000+ A top end pic in 3200/w in .png can be easily several hundred mb.
just email it... lol

if you are in ' know' what is best [All]>.jpg algorithm in program

[Ned]

if you are in ' know' what is best [All]>.jpg algorithm in program

I am sorry to say that I am not in the "know" -- only an admirer.

[Hjarloprillar]

War. where heroes are [not in a sport] There are no sports heroes. Its an oxymoron.

Make his fight
On the hill in the early day
Constant chill deep inside

Shouting gun
On they run
Through the endless grey

On they fight
Are they right
Yes, but who's to say?

For a hill men would kill
Why?
They do not know
Stiffened wounds test their pride

Men of five
Still alive through the raging glow
Gone insane
From the pain that they surely know

For whom the bell tolls
Time marches on
For whom the bell tolls

Take a look
To the sky
Just before you die
It's the last time he will

Blackened roar
Massive roar fills the crumbling sky
Shattered goal
Fills his soul with a ruthless cry

Stranger now
Are his eyes to this mystery
He hears the silence so loud

Crack of dawn
All is gone
Except the will to be

Now they see what will be
Blinded eyes to see

For whom the bell tolls
Time marches on
For whom the bell tolls...


I thought Hetfield [lead singer] wrote this.. my bad.

[Hjarloprillar]

for those with bandwidth

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJ9rUzIMcZQ

"Is this the real life, is this just fantasy. Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality."

And fools say modern music is shallow

[Hjarloprillar]

If you want true 'Spec Fiction' read Iain banks.

the culture rings true in many ways.
he has sadly died and become dirt again. [as do we all] but his ideas live.
like p k dick i hope his writings foster many movies,
His Consider phlebas may be the new blade runner.
one can only hope.
hollywood ran out of dickensian after 6 movies
with enders game hollywood looks to spec fiction. this trend will continue.
---------------------
Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.


think well on that

[Impenitent]

you do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around,
that's what it's all about.

-Imp

[thedoc]

you do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around,
that's what it's all about.

-Imp

And you haven't lived till you've embarrassed yourself doing it on roller skates.