Speaking of procrastination, I went and saw this lady speak last week: http://thecolbertreport.cc.com/videos/fykny6/patricia-churchland
Oh, she's GOOD.
She really, REALLY is. Someone asked her whether she was concerned that neuroscience was sucking the mystery out of life, and she just cocked her head and said, kind of wistfully, "You know, people ask about the mystery and I think about all the people I've known with schizophrenia, Alzheimer's, Huntington's Disease, Parkinson's, muscular dystrophy, bipolar disorder... what were you saying about 'mystery'?"
People who think the mystery of life can be dispelled by learning things are either pitiably misguided or have incredibly small imaginations.
Imagine all of human knowledge as a big sphere, and the outer edge of that sphere is mystery. When you expand human knowledge, you push the surface of that sphere further outward. This increases the surface area of the sphere, thereby increasing the total amount of mystery.
You can pretend I'm smoking a clove cigarette and sipping a latte while I say the above statement.
Swans Commentary » swans.comDecember 31, 2014
Perspectives: A Review of 2014
"Lanterninosofia" the Philosophy of Small Lanterns
by Guido Monte
Translation by Adele Ward
Verses inspired by "Lanterninosofia" and "Non conclude" ("it does not end") by Pirandello
(Swans - December 31, 2014)
darkness doesn't exist?
we people feel alive,
a feeling like a small lamp
which lights us up inside; the moment
our last breath arrives,
and the perpetual night of being is here
for us, burnt out and remote fireflies
in the darkness of time.
the small lamps have so many colours
and a common colour for each age;
red was the great lantern of pagan virtue,
violet, that of christian virtue.
because of this, many still get from the church
oil for their small lanterns.
but sometimes the wind
even puts out large lanterns.
and then the small lanterns swing around.
they turn back or cry
like abandoned ants, like nowadays.
darkness and confusion,
with the large lanterns extinguished!
in its own way the small lantern shows us
only shadows of strange ghosts,
at which we can be frightened or laugh.
but what if even darkness is a trick?
and if the lantern going out
is only a way to re-enter
the eternal stream of being,
into a life that is universal
and without an end
in the flow you no longer have a name;
"names are for the dead,
who have finished".
the ones who live are the tree,
new leaves, a cloud, a book, the wind,
all the fresh things from dawn,
clouds mountains air sky.
blades of grass, a donkey, assorted fields:
you are reborn every moment in things.
the sound of bells: instant death
to be reborn again, without memories;
alive, no longer inside yourself,v but "all on the outside",
in the outside of things.
Adele Ward is a poet, novelist, and co-owner of Ward Wood Publishing in London.
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This material is copyrighted, © Guido Monte 2014. All rights reserved