Nonsense.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
♥ Saturday, May 27, 2006
V for Vendetta. by Alan Moore and David Lloyd. (060506) My first graphic novel. A classic on its own. Fascist regime toppled by guy wearing a Guy Fawkes' mask. Dark, originial, and classy. But between a movie and pictures? I'd choose a movie.
A nonsensical attempt at nonsense. Ok, i went thru a few blogs, and there was few attempts at nonsense. i htink i got to have a shot at it too.:)
Should we start with the "what is?"? But, i do not know how to define nonsense. Ok, i could start using a non-negative, but nonsense is the non-negative! The nonsense of definitions after all.
To know what is not sense, we then have to step into the obvious opposite, sense. There're certain senses i'd reckon. The natural physical senses, the emotional, the logical, the philosophical and the nonsensical. I think, in my own fantastic attempt at drawing theories,that the no man's land between the logical and the nonsensical, is the philosophical. What do i mean?
See, Memory and Identity by Pope John Paul 2(070506) has a quote i made a feeble attempt to memorise. " The eternal heritage of the Father truly passed through Mary's heart and was thus enriched by all that the wonderful feminine genius that could bring about to Christ's patrimony." Something about how the church is termed "Mother". Ok, logically, its nonsense. Nonsensically, hmm..its logical. But its the difference in the two, logic and nonsense, that brings philosophical sense to what the pope is mentioning. So what is philosophy? A search for truth? An attempt at what is and isnt? Or an illusion beneath the illusions that plague the peripheral senses.
Actually, over a very cool discussion with my family in the car, did nonsense take shape. Why would one make such contrasts between the realm of meaning,& the realm of nothingness( the realm of nonsense)? Its the fragility of life! Ha, my mum told me abt how over a delivery, the ironic trauma of a mother's death in a delivery, some haemorrhage, or a blood clot in the brain, some air bubble in some vital organ and poof! There goes a loved one. And accidents? The disturbing lack of time one has to exist and live, makes what matter, and what dont(nonsense). Ok, in this other book, Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky (180506), i caught down this phrase that i feel speaks powerfully about what i am talking.
"where have i read of a condemned man, at the hour of his death, says or thinks that if the alternative was offered him, of existing somewhere on a rock, or yard where only his 2 feet could stand, where all around him the ocean, perpetual gloom, perpetual solitude, perpetual storm, to remain standing there for a lifetime, a 1000 yrs, an eternity, would he choose to live thus than die at once? Only, live, live, live!"
I just loved the quote. Have life ever felt like an illusion to you? Like there's somehting more. the search of purpose feels like the ultimate illusion of them all. We glorify in our gifts of being alive, not in finding what to do with it. Or is it the other way around? What are blues? It cant possibly be the dread of monotony, because monotony does not breed dread. The lack of purpose does. And if so, whats phenomenal, is that after an existence of a decade or 2, that we finally ask ourselves what are we doing, really.
Huh? Now this is weird. What exactly happened in the past 20 years? It couldnt be plain, superficical existence, because we all know that living demands more than superficiality. A being takes shape in the roots and depths of truth. Not in the surface. This, i find, is the plain nonsense that we are. We dont relaly make sense! After all this time here, we ask what we are doing here? That should be the very first question and answer we find with the entry of language. So, question is, did we?
See, Adam and Eve's initial purpose was in existing. Now that sounds like the kind that we'd most probably say its monotonous. Ah, but the great Milan Kundera says that the monotony in the Garden bred happiness, not boredom. So, question is, whats with the knowledge of Good & Evil? Whats with the fruit? What didnt satisfy so much that they wanted out? The blues?? The lack of purpose? Or, was it mere nonsense. Ha! Now its warped. But its logical nonsense. See, perfection has a price. The price is knowledge. People cannot know that perfection exist, unless there was imperfection. Now, i would think, its nonsense that Man and Woman became curious about. Its great being in the Garden of Eden. Its happy, and its good. But, question is, what is, exactly, the experience of bad? Things in the garden make good, philosophical, beautiful sense( after all, it came from God). But, what are the things that doesnt? What are the nonsenses? What
doesnt make sense, in all that does? If Evil is the lack of good. Nonsense, could be the lack of sense. And the Knowledge of that, could bring Man and Woman, out of sense, out of good, into the world of nonsense. Goodness, the logic of nonsense! Damn, i am good.
To all who read this, read it carefully. For wise are those who know nonsense for what nonsense is. Its the foolish that gets manipulated by nonsense's facade.
Nonsense aside, i thank you God. The wk was tough and it might get tougher. But somewhere, in all the nonsenses, i feel i have You.
Child at Church
Thursday, May 18, 2006
♥ Thursday, May 18, 2006
I walked into the church. And i see Jesus, or at least thats what my mum said.
He's hanging on some cross, they call it a crucifix i think. A few days back, i read that it was some betrayal, some awful thing that happened, He said He was God, and they din like Him for it, and thats what they do to people who makes such remarks that many other people dont want to believe.
Suddenly, there is some music playing. There is some kind of a procession, and then my brother tells me that the person all the way at the back, is the priest. What or who is that? I think everyone in the pews are asking that the way i do.
There's some muttering across the microphone system. I think, the priest ends this muttering with 'Amen'. And all the people say it with him. I think it functions like how a fullstop in a sentence does. Well, what do i know. It all feels somewhat familiar and new at the same time.
Wait, there's something interesting. Somehow everyone recites this ultra long passage together. It starts with' i confess to almighty God.." and people starts beating their breasts, and it ends when the priests say something and everybody goes "Amen" again. Why do they do that? i'd think its to tell God how sorry we are. And we do that together because? I mean, can i just tell God i am sorry? Must i 'chant' it together with everybody else? Yet, somehow saying it together with people feels nice. Its like singing together with my friends, its definitely different from singing by myself.
Few people start reading passages that I dont quite understand. There's this person Moses, and he met God in some mountain. Man, wont that be a sight? He has been given a job to do. Something that involves miracles and wonders, and he doesnt feel he can do it because he's only one man.
Then this other guy comes to this stage to read. Its all very confusing. This letter, by that person about this other person called 'God' or 'Jesus', and there's is alot of this word 'love'. It feels like there is a message behind this message. But i feel, maybe only a tiny fraction of the people there can see that message behind the message the person read. I do not know this 'inside' message. I only feel there is one. I could be wrong.
Hey, we start standing and singing and repeating this word 'Alleluia'. Feels so lively. The priest comes to the place where the other people reading other things stood. And then this 'Jesus' is mentioned again. I think Jesus must have been some big guy in those times. He is always saying things, that some people listen and some people dont. And those who dont, dont like him for that. The priest says God is like a shepherd, He will not forsake us. I look around. People arent really listening. Its quite sweet of God to be somehting like that. Hey, if i was God, i would care about something my own size. But no one really listens. I find that quite hard to understand. i think, its because they hear it so many times, they no longer want to listen. Or, it could be, they just never wanted to hear it in the first place. i dont know.
It goes on with another passage people memorised. "i believe in the Holy Catholic Church.." The word catholic means universal. But this is weird. Why is the 'C' in "Catholic" a capital letter? I don think if they said 'universal church' they would use a capital "U" for that. Well, what i know is that there was a case in that book about God, where Jesus is sometimes called the "Son of Man" and on other occasions, he is called " Son of man". So, this when does "M" in "Man" becomes a capital letter? I think like previously, there is a message behing this message as well. Well, i am just guessing. I dont really think people care.
Then, we stand, and sit and give money, and then we stand and then we kneel, and then the priest shows this white coloured circle thing, and says this is the "my body". I look around. I thought people should look happier. Then i decided to focus on this white circle. Before long, the priest raises this shining cup and says that is 'my blood". I read about this before. Its some time just before Jesus died. He met with some of his friends and He said this. I read somewhere else, that some people couldnt agree whether this blood was real blood and this body, real body and then somehow there were wars fought because of this. And in wars there are blood spilled and people dying. i find that stupid. If i was God, and if God was a shepherd, and so if i was a shepherd, i wouldnt like the idea of my sheep fighting, for any reason!
We sing. And we hold hands. I think this might be what i want, if i were God. Everyone holding hands. After that, we hug each other and say " peace be with you". i do not understand, but i say it anyway. I think people might understand "peace". Thats why they come to church, thats why they go ahead and take that white circle, thats why they hug, and thats why they hold hands.
About one hour passes, and we sing the last song. Its called the final hymn i remember. People walk out of church. I see my mum kneeling down, and i follow her. I do not know what to do. So i just tell God. "God, i feel happy today." And i feel, somewhere inside, like the message in the messages, like i know who God is.
things
Sunday, May 14, 2006
♥ Sunday, May 14, 2006
There're things on my mind.
There's this thing about misfortunes. They seem to know when to come: they come most unexpectedly, they come altogether. One upon the other. A mountain from a mouldhill.
There's this thing about God. You tend to walk on a tightrope, with the goal in mind. There's no harness. Whats below is despair and an abyss; there's nothing above, only ahead. we dont see whats ahead thus we hope. The goal is to finish walking whilst remaining on the rope. Whats ahead? An ideal, a heaven, a serenity, an All, or a Nothing.
There's this thing about balance. Between change and beliefs, ideals and practicality, ideals and disillusionment, desires and wants, pride and arrogance, humility and despair, the soul and the body. Seems as if I am a product of the management of such balancing.
There's this thing about love. The incomprehensible truth. The possibly only acknowledged truth, and thus the only truth. One that transcends to the far borders of the human spirit, out of the realms of logic, into the realms of meaning. Faith, hope and love; of which the greatest is love, they say. When i say i love which stands greater? The love, or the I.
There's this thing about thoughts. Its fascinating the mumbo jumbo tt can spring out from a budding thought. Its more fascinating, that our dreams are the jigsaw puzzle our mind plays. Nightmares are pieces of embedded desires joint to pieces of memory. Piecing imagination and ideals you get fantasy. The thoughts that results in our attitude, that affects our choices, that determines our character, that sets an influence, that changes a people, that gives rise to a mentality, that becomes a norm, that whirls up a culture, that marks society, that tells the world. The power of thinking, eh?
There's this thing about community. It feels like its right to be there. And yet when im there, i have 10, 000 other places i feel better being. The God of history tells me that i been given so much and nags at me to give back. But i dont. I am an actor, and i play my script so well, that i wonder whats the truth and lie. I am sorry, but i don have a self, if i don have an act. There's a part of me telling me this is not true; i've gone beyond the acting. And then there's that other part, telling me, no i am not done. I love you guys, and i love my act. And all i can leave you with, is an apology.
There's this thing about happiness. It exists.
There's this thing about choice. Foolish are those who are ignorant of them. More foolish are those who dont know the choice they made. Most foolish are those who are indifferent to them.
There's this thing about her. She occupies my semi empty mind. She is
the question. Is it possible? Is it real? Is there anyhting to the end of that tightrope she make me walk on? Or is the God of history teaching me history's 'repetitive'?
There are things on my mind.
There are things in my heart.
There are things.
What Stories Tell
Thursday, May 04, 2006
♥ Thursday, May 04, 2006
Yes, another 3 bks. And a ton of reflection.
Snow Falling On Cedars (220406) by David Guterson is a book given by my cousin. Its about a trial regarding the murder of a caucasian businessman, and who's alleged murderer is a japanese. With that, they tie in issues of world war 2, a secret romance with the jap's wife and some reporter. Ok, this isnt exactly a Danielle Steele kinda bk, but when it comes to love scenes, the author sure is, vivid about it. Certain issues like discrimination, redemption are discussed here. Quite finely illustrated characters.
The Sea (270406) by John Banville is a book with about 260 pages. To tell the truth? Up to page 200 and i still havent got a clue what its going on about. Something about the past, and also this guy having some romance that he found hard to let go of. Without the synopsis, i probably wouldnt even be able to blog about this bk. The language is crazily bombastic. i htink to actually absorb its content, u got to be either a linguist, or have a dictionary by the side. ha. So, in the end i manage to get a slight piece of the story. But this guy managed to create some very abstract spiritual scene, which i figured out after reading the para 3 times, succintly. Too many, its a gd bk.
Curious Incident of Dog in the Night Time (020506) by Mark Haddon, is a narrative, whose character is that of an autistic child, who also happens to be maths whiz and philospher. Story turns out to be pretty heartwarming, as the child discovers the lies about his family and leaves his father to find his mother. Not exactly interesting. I think the word would be, convincing.As the character. And i guess his evolution of thought, how he rationalizes on choices he have.
This time round, all 3 books received some award. Whitbread, or Man Booker prize, or Pen/Faulkner Award. So i guess its recommendable. The question is, what do the stories tell me about me? What is my story to tell?
Its a difficult question. At this point in time? My story is about the truth and lies, the smiles and cries, the literal and the metaphorical. Whats the truth and whats the lie- that i am reading a book by Pope John Paul in the morning and going Zouk in the night. Whats the smile and whats the cry- that i find ideals exist, only to realise it exists temporarily. Whats the literal and whats the metaphorical- that i read books, or i have become a book to be written by the authors i read about. Shoot, i sound like im in a state of despair. Let me clarify, i am not.
Had a nice chat with Kelly 2-3 days back. Inevitably, we exchanged such stories. Perhaps not in such detail that leave one feeling 'naked', but an exchange where certain characteristics and lines of thought were illuminated. Somehow its spontaneity that sparks off the deepest of conversation. Human planning, as the intention to get to know a person, leaves one guarded and what one goes through feels more like an act than smth meaningful. Well, i left with a clearer understanding of my story.
Relationships have become the epicentre of my story. Not philosphy, not psychology. Those are mere intellectual pornography- the stimulation of mere peripherals. My relationship with people, my relationship with God, tell me most about me. Amor sui ad contemptum Dei. The love of self to the point there's contempt for God. The beginning of all Falls. There's a huge gap suddenly in 1 of my friendships. I aint touchy feely abt it. Its just a disappointment. Which makes me ask this. Are the people around me, my means, or my ends? Cuz if they're means, i have become one big manipulative SOB; and if they're ends, haha i'd deem myself a saint. See the logical progression: If i was disappointed, my expectations were obviously not met. If expectations exist, i obviously wanted soemthing for myself, something i din get. Now if i wanted soemthing for myself, through that person, that makes him/ her the means? And if so, does that head towards self love?
Lets get analytical. If i am at my centre of my perceptive 'story', i have become the limit to my realities, my obstruction and my liberation, my freedom and my enslavement. Thats what the Pope said, that Descartes' 'i think therefore i am' have put philosphy into a perspective that comes from the individual. And with that the Catholic Church, i think, argues that when they said Man is in the centre of the universe, they don mean it cosmologically/ literally, they mean it philosophically. In this case, 'universe' becomes synonymous with 'my story'. My story that has imagination plagued with roots of desire and fears, my story that has fantasy stained by yearnings, and my story that i ultimately realise, only I can change.
God's the author of my life, and I am an actor. If he writes peace, my stage becomes an oasis.
Hear Don Moen's version of Our Father. Have that foretaste of this oasis. Its called prayer synonymous with silence, synonymous with 'adoration', synonymous with peace.
