Shouting at the Sea.
Monday, May 26, 2008
♥ Monday, May 26, 2008
At Australia's shelly beach is a man shouting,Against the vast oceans of nothing.THe irony is that a man has found his voice amidst the thunderous roars of the waves against each otherAnd like his life in microcosm, the man has found that his life parallels the chaotic view of clashing waves.And he shouts. He sees that there is something hypnotic about the ocean; like a seductress calling out to him, asking him to plunge into the the unfathomable and unknown, the formless and uncontrollable;for it seems this man's troubles can only be matched by the uncompromising waves and deadly currents;the same currents that whilst has been executioner for some, has been liberator for others. He shouts like there is no tomorrow and the powerful seductress consumes his voice with the cymbals of waves against rocks. And in that comes a spectacle.Does the beauty of nature inspire literature? or does the power of literature reveal the beauty in nature? In that short span of half an hour, that man is presented with the forces of nature like none other: A peace in a distance;a chaos in an instance;a voice calling from without;drowning the terrible loneliness from within.There this man finds the beauty that language can hardly encapsulate, and truths are drawn from him: What he wants and what doesnt,what he fears and what he advocates,what he loves and longs,what he misses and dreads.And he is caressed by the breeze, as if the ocean had life of its own,as if the ocean knew. And there is a barter trade: for in exchange for that tiny ounce of this man's life, comes a measure of peace.
Why did ivan cry.
Friday, May 23, 2008
♥ Friday, May 23, 2008
"you just call out my name, and i know wherever i am, i will come running...to see you again. Winter, spring summer or fall, all you got to do is call...and i will be there (yes i will). You've got a friend." This was the song Ivan teared to when it was being played at his 21st birthday. And as usual, i will psychoanalyse what has in fact transpired that resulted such a flurry of emotions.Ivan cried because the song was meaningful- with that i mean that the song's lyrics and his life experiences had converged; a certain truth had been enunciated that ivan felt himself assenting to i.e very simply he understood what the song was about and he agreed with it because he had experienced it. This is a classic example of where the head meets the heart. Ivan had understood the song; he had a past experience that coincided with the song's lyrics or music- and what was in his head (the memories and the comprehension) travelled to his heart. Proof? The crying.For emotions are the heart's histrionics; its theatre- to display and to perform and to show. What makes this so interesting is that Ivan had taken what many philosophers deem to be the longest journey in life (from the head to the heart) and provided us with lots of thougts to ponder over: The meaning of meaning. And that is the treasure isnt it? For it is said "where your heart is there will your treasure be". The travelling of the head to the heart, to find meaning in a world that offers anything but meaning, amidst the banal and the boredeom, has become quintessential to our being and becoming human. For what is knowledge of compassion without the emotion of sympathy or empathy and the subsequent act of charity? The concept of compassion remains in the metaphysical realm of ideas without the instrument of emotion/experience, it isnt real wihtout the subsequent act (of generosity or charity) that proves the concept exists. What is knowledge of happiness without the emotion of lightheartedness or assured-ness? What is peace without the emotion of stability and an ensuing inner confidence? So when ivan cried, something was made real- the warmth of human friendship. The gentle touch that affirmed the other existed, and was cared for. The living proof that the overtly romanticized ideas of love does exist. The assurance that a person's life had not gone by unnoticed. Being touched (whether by an act of kindness, or gentility etc) is exactly that: a discovery of meaning. Not so much meaning of one's life more than a meaning of life's details: like friendship for example. And being touched is a moment of grace because it occurs without Man's choice: the mind remarkably opens its gates to let the thoughts flow into where Man is made and paradoxically becomes alive.