View allAll Photos Tagged Formlessness
The overcast skies had the colour of deadened stones, and seemed closer than usually, as though they were phlegmatically observing my every movement with their apathetic emptily blue-less eyes; even the air itself was gray, so ultimate and ubiquitous that colour was everywhere around me.
The unknown grayish mystifying forest was benumbed into frost-covered cold, and the tremendous pines towering above resembled a gathering of severe mute brothers from a forbidden ancient order worshiping forgotten gods no one had ever heard of outside of the world of secret occult visions.
-- Simona Panova
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The color of truth is grey.
-- André Gide
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Grey. It makes no statement whatever; it evokes neither feelings nor associations: it is really neither visible nor invisible. Its inconspicuousness gives it the capacity to mediate, to make visible, in a positively illusionistic way, like a photograph. It has the capacity that no other colour has, to make 'nothing' visible.
To me, grey is the welcome and only possible equivalent for indifference, noncommitment, absence of opinion, absence of shape. But grey, like formlessness and the rest, can be real only as an idea, and so all I can do is create a colour nuance that means grey but is not it. The painting is then a mixture of grey as a fiction and grey as a visible, designated area of colour.
-- Gerhard Richter
"Don't get set into one form, adapt it and build your own, and let it grow, be like water. Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless — like water. Now you put water in a cup, it becomes the cup; You put water into a bottle it becomes the bottle; You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Now water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend." Bruce Lee.
Torc Waterfall, located a few kilometers away from Killarney, in County Kerry, is one of the most impressive cascades in Ireland. Although the car park is only a few minutes away from the main waterfall, the short path to reach it immediately introduces us into a magic forest, that is more reminiscent of tropical areas of our planet than of these latitudes of northern Europe.
When we reached the waterfall, we could not hide our astonishment. It had rained a lot in the days before our visit to Killarney, so the cascade appeared before us in all its splendor. The water was falling hardly and soon I knew that reaching the next level of the waterfall, which has a whirlpool and from which I intended to photograph, was going to be an almost impossible task. Still I decided to try it, I took my shoes off (I did not have water boots in Ireland yet) and I went barefoot into the water. Its icy temperature invited to think it better, but still I decided to continue. Step by step, I advanced very carefully through the slippery terrain, my tripod and my camera in one hand, and the rest of my body as support. When I had almost reached the next level, there came a point where advancing more would have gone from a certain recklessness to absolute foolishness. Therefore, I decided to take some photos from that place and return to the starting point.
In the end, this photo that I took from the place where my girlfriend had waited patiently while I was inside the waterfall, has turned out to be my favorite, since in it you can appreciate all the power of its water, and it will always remind me that for some minutes I was part of it.
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"No te establezcas en una forma, adáptala y construye la tuya propia, y déjala crecer, sé como el agua. Vacía tu mente, sé amorfo, moldeable, como el agua. Si pones agua en una taza se convierte en la taza. Si pones agua en una botella se convierte en la botella. Si la pones en una tetera se convierte en la tetera. El agua puede fluir o puede chocar. Sé agua, amigo mío". Bruce Lee.
La cascada de Torc, situada a pocos kilómetros de Killarney, en el Condado de Kerry, es una de las más impresionantes de Irlanda. A pesar de que el aparcamiento se encuentra a escasos minutos de la cascada principal, el corto sendero para llegar hasta ella nos introduce inmediatamente en un mágico bosque, que recuerda más a zonas tropicales de nuestro planeta que a estas latitudes del Norte de Europa.
Cuando nos encontramos frente a ella, no pudimos disimular nuestro asombro. Había llovido mucho en los días previos a nuestra visita a Killarney, por lo que la cascada apareció ante nosotros con todo su esplendor. El agua caía con fuerza y pronto supe que alcanzar el siguiente nivel de la cascada, que cuenta con un remolino y desde el que pretendía fotografiar, iba a ser una tarea casi imposible. Aún así decidí intentarlo, me quité los zapatos (no disponía aún de botas de agua en Irlanda) y entré descalzo en el agua. Su gélida temperatura invitaba a pensárselo mejor, pero aún así decidí continuar. Paso a paso, fui avanzando con mucho cuidado por el resbaladizo terreno, mi trípode y mi cámara en una mano, y el resto de mi cuerpo como apoyo. Cuando casi había alcanzado el siguiente nivel, llegó un punto en el que avanzar más hubiera pasado de cierta temeridad a insensatez absoluta. Por ello, decidí realizar unas fotos desde aquel lugar y volver al punto de partida.
Al final, esta foto que hice desde el lugar en el que mi novia me había esperado pacientemente mientras yo estaba dentro de la cascada, ha resultado ser mi favorita, ya que en ella se puede apreciar todo el poder de su agua, y siempre me recordará que durante algunos minutos fui parte de ella.
A rainy, formless gloom was settling in as I drove past the local beach early this evening. These blokes were well kitted out for the conditions though and it struck me how the scene could have been plucked from pretty well any time since european settlement. Sure the gear's a lot more refined now but in essence it's still a hook on a string on a stick, enveloped in optimism, irrespective of conditions. Stayers. I've played quite a bit with the NIK sliders to try and draw out this perception.
+4 nei commenti
[...] un senso come di vuoto che prende una sera con l'odore degli elefanti dopo la pioggia e della cenere di sandalo che raffredda nei bracieri; una vertigine che fa tremare i fiumi e le montagne istoriati sulla fulva groppa dei planisferi [...] è il momento disperato in cui si scopre che quest'impero che ci era sembrato la somma di tutte le meraviglie è uno sfacelo senza fine nè forma che la sua corruzione è troppo incancrenita perchè il nostro scettro possa mettervi riparo, che il trionfo sui sovrani avversari ci ha fatto eredi della loro lunga rovina.
(Italo Calvino - Le città invisibili)
[...] There is a sense of emptiness that comes over us at evening, with the odor of the elephants after the rain and the sandalwood ashes growing cold in the braziers, a dizziness that makes rivers and mountains tremble on the fallow curves of the planispheres where they are portrayed [...] It is the desperate moment when we discover that this empire, which had seemed to us the sum of all wonders, is an endless, formless ruin, that corruption's gangrene has spread too far to be healed by our scepter, that the triumph over enemy sovereigns has made us the heirs of their long undoing.
Some might say that's a frequent state of mind for me--oars shipped, drifting in the fog, only the vaguest of notion of where exactly I might be.
When the fog settles in on the river, there a peaceful silence, a softness to the light. You feel like you're in a soft, cozy room, the ripply carpet on the floor, and soft draperies melting into the ivory walls.
At any moment, the comforting illusion of that comfy "River Room" could shatter with the speed of a monster tugboat pushing a barge through the corner wall. But the muffled sound and gentle light create a dreamlike, meditative mood.
Meditation is not a practice of getting, but one of allowing. The river, the flowing current--thoughts swim in random eddies, and the meandering mind clicks back into "right now" as an old buddy materializes through the mist.
It's a magical moment. After it's over, the feeling stays with you, and you remember what that great teacher had to say about meditation--the one whose name started with a "B". (no, not Buddha, Bruce Lee!)--
“Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless - like water. Now you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup, you put water into a bottle, it becomes the bottle, you put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.”
When the world comes clear,
changeless in its changing,
and everywhere revealed,
this sun might be lighting
a rendered wall inscribed
by winter tree's shadow;
when the world comes clear
light might seem to shift
to show a morning free of any other time;
when the world comes clear
something pulling tight within
your mind might fall away
to leave a formless space,
a fathomless space in which
eternal life cannot be granted
or even offered,
but only recognised, so simply,
as what you are.
---Andrew Colliver
At the end of and between the rows of apples, pears and the lone cherry there's a garden bed packed with comfrey, lovage, fennel and horseradish. Interestingly the comfrey and horseradish both came from the garden of the same stylish old house which, being no longer there, has been replaced by two hideously formless "townhouses". That patch is alive, more alive that the now sterile concrete of the townhouses, packed with insects, spiders and other things.
The movement seen from where I had set about photographing the swelling buds of the Stokes Red was obvious — the reach of that little lens barely adequate. But I took a chance. I cannot be certain who this is at the Genus and species level, especially now they are messing about with spider taxonomy, but I'm willing to place it in the Family Araneidae.
In a way, it's better that I didn't have more reach because the light breeze still had this little spider bouncing in and out on its silk trampoline. I would rush off for the 100mm, but that's another story. This little lens is barely adequate, but far more forgiving!
Borobudur, or Barabudur, is a 9th-century Mahayana Buddhist Temple in Magelang, Central Java, Indonesia. The monument consists of six square platforms topped by three circular platforms, and is decorated with 2,672 relief panels and 504 Buddha statues. A main dome, located at the center of the top platform, is surrounded by 72 Buddha statues seated inside a perforated stupa.
Built in the 9th century during the reign of the Sailendra Dynasty, the temple’s design in Gupta architecture reflects India's influence on the region. It also depicts the gupta style from India and shows influence of Buddhism as well as Hinduism. The monument is both a shrine to the Lord Buddha and a place for Buddhist pilgrimage. The journey for pilgrims begins at the base of the monument and follows a path around the monument and ascends to the top through three levels symbolic of Buddhist cosmology: Kāmadhātu (the world of desire), Rupadhatu (the world of forms) and Arupadhatu (the world of formlessness). The monument guides pilgrims through an extensive system of stairways and corridors with 1,460 narrative relief panels on the walls and the balustrades.
Evidence suggest Borobudur was constructed in the 9th century and abandoned following the 14th century decline of Hindu kingdoms in Java, and the Javanese conversion to Islam. Worldwide knowledge of its existence was sparked in 1814 by Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, then the British ruler of Java, who was advised of its location by native Indonesians. Borobudur has since been preserved through several restorations. The largest restoration project was undertaken between 1975 and 1982 by the Indonesian government and UNESCO, following which the monument was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Borobudur is still used for pilgrimage; once a year Buddhists in Indonesia celebrate Vesak at the monument, and Borobudur is Indonesia's single most visited tourist attraction.
It's been a while since I did any long exposures, in no small part due to the fact that the skies over London have been exceptionally grey and formless over the past few weekends. Anyway, this was a stealth attack on the trusty old tourist favourite of the Palace of Westminster.
As before when I photographed a similar view about a year ago with my 550D, I still find it difficult to decide whether I prefer the monochrome or colour version of this composition.
One slight problem was a difficult-to-diagnose colour-cast produced by the ND filters I was shooting through. One of the drawbacks with being slightly colourblind means I find it hard knowing what to do with the various colour sliders in order to correct things like that.
Anyway, the colour shot here is my best attempt to bring the tonality closer to what my eyes were seeing standing there earlier.
“Shadows danced in the air around her; [...] formless figures that leaped and spun on the edge of the abyss. Now they hovered around her, a retinue of nightmare’s handmaidens.”
{M.Marr}
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Same thing seen through Abigale's eyes. (so worth it!)
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details on my blog : { Au revoir aubergines }
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“Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves.
Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.”
"Words! Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them! They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things, and to have a music of their own as sweet as that of viol or of lute. Mere words! Was there anything so real as words?"
— Oscar Wilde
Forms allow of a direct, 'plastic' assimilation of the truths - or
of the realities - of the spirit.
The geometry of the symbol is steeped in beauty, which in its turn and in its own way is also a symbol.
The perfect form is that in which truth is incarnate in the rigour of the symbolical formulation and in the purity and intelligence of the style.
---
Frithjof Schuon
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Quoted in: The Essential Frithjof Schuon (edited by Seyyed Hossein Nasr)
Nînael once dwelt in a deep forest, formless save for a flurry of blossom would flutter around his silhouette. It was there that he resided, careless and without strife. This, however, would change when a human male stumbled upon a grove deep within the forest, a grove in which Nînael dwelt. He was a wonder to behold, a veritable narcissus. Enthralled by the beauty of this mortal man, Nînael attempted to take form in order to interact with him. Never having encounted another motal he could but mimic the form of the man before him, which, as expected, did not sit well with the narcissus. Horrified by what he saw unfolding before him, he darted off, out of the clearing and into the thick of the forest. Nînael, unable to complete his metamorphosis, had become a distinct amalgamation of himself and the blossom still swirling him. Where Narcissus' eyes were noisette in colour, Nînael's were rose. The loose strands of newly-formed hair that now caressed the forest spirit's shoulders were powder pink, rather than the chestnut brown of the mortal's. Incomplete, out of touch, and estranged from what he knew, Nînael departed from the sanctuary, forever seeking the mortal that stole his very soul.
They say that at sunset, a monster rises from the water, right at the end of the path.
The Stretch, formless, reaches out with shadowy arms toward those who walk alone, too close to the edge.
A shiver, a cold hand… then nothing. Only a damp trace left on the stone...
Copyright © giovdim 2008. All rights reserved.
The Way is like an empty vessel
that yet may be drawn from
without ever needing to be filled
it is bottomless:
the very progenitor of all things....
it is like a deep pool that never dries...
When you look at it you cannot see it
it is called formless
when you listen to it you can not hear it
it is called soundless
when you try to seize it you cannot hold it
it is called subtle
no one can measure these three to their ultimate ends
therefor they are fused to one.
it is up, but it is not brightened
it is down, but it is not obscured
it stretches endlessly
and no name is to be given
it returns to nothingness
it is called formless form, shapeless shape,
it is called the intangible
you face it but you cannot see its back
Holding on to the Ancient Way...
Lao-Tzu(LAOZI) "Tao Te Ching"
"If we close our eyes the brain immediately conjures up a medley of impressions of light and color, apparently a sort of imitation and echo of the impressions forced in upon the brain during its waking moments. And now the mind, in co-operation with the imagination, transforms this formless play of light and color into definite figures, moving groups, landscapes. What really takes place is a sort of reasoning from effect back to cause."
It is the formless white infinity that helps something to get form and
colour. Like a plant that gets rooted beneath the earth surface for its efflorescence up above in the sky - all
forms are sustained by formless ineffable infinity. It is this
infinity that has been aspiring to find itself in innumerable forms
and in its incessant aspiration it gives out its end-less being to
every little and big forms. So whenever a flower or even a person
touches me to my delight the infinity is touched in me.
Supreme deity of Hinduism presented in his symbolic infinite and formless form at Tapovan (4500m) _/\_
It's been a while since I did any long exposures, in no small part due to the fact that the skies over London have been exceptionally grey and formless over the past few weekends. Anyway, this was a stealth attack on the trusty old tourist favourite of the Palace of Westminster.
As before when I photographed a similar view about a year ago with my 550D, I still find it difficult to decide whether I prefer the monochrome or colour version of this composition.
One slight problem was a difficult-to-diagnose colour-cast produced by the ND filters I was shooting through. One of the drawbacks with being slightly colourblind means I find it hard knowing what to do with the various colour sliders In Lightroom in order to correct things like that.
Anyway, the colour shot is my best attempt to bring the tonality closer to what my eyes were seeing standing there earlier.
Borobudur takes the record as the largest Buddhist temple in the world. People also name Borobudur as the greatest Buddhist monument in the world.
There are three levels of Buddhist cosmology that you can find in Borobudur. When you make a pilgrim in Borobudur, make sure that you can follow the three levels. The first one is the world of the desire of Kamadhatu. Next, it is the world of forms or Rupadhatu. The last one is the world of formlessness or Arupadhatu.
The sickness of this world is knocking at my door everyday. People expect me to put label on me as they are putting labels on themselves. I don't want to be a part of that, seriously. They define themselves with the job they have, the money they make, the things they "own", the purpose of their life that changes every 5 minutes, the shape of their bodies. And push me to do so. These are just thougts, concepts, it doesn't make you. Still trying to recover from years of society expectations, people limitations, my own wrong limitations. Life is NOW. My purpose is to do what I am doing right now, find my way back to my wild self, to be. Keeping it simple. Feel when I breath, truly listen others, truly love others.
Give no rest to your ego,understand it, be aware it's here, weaken it. Learn.
Thank you, bye
;) of all the dargahs/places we visited in India - I felt the most uplifted here... kind of like fizzy lemonade from Charlie & the Chocolate Factory. There was so much light, physical and non-physical - that is to say: not only how the light reflected off the beige colored tiled walls, but also this (tangible & palpable are good words but they don't quite fit) feeling of weighing less, of floating while clearly standing on the ground. Like Pir Vilayat was right there, not off away somewhere away in another formless dimension, but right there with us. And then Taj saying "one of the things he always said was 'Do You Have the Courage to Be Who You Really Are?'" just locked it in for me. The experience of being in this place went into me, became part of me, forever I think.
“[The Word Became Flesh] In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” -John 1:1-2
Larger View On Black Is Much Better ;-)
Wonderful Maker by Jeremy Camp
You spread out the skies over empty space
Said, let there be light
To a dark and formless world
Your light was born
You spread out your arms over empty hearts
Said, let there be light
To a dark and hopeless world
Your son was born
You made the world and saw that it was good
You sent your only son, for you are good
What a wonderful maker
What a wonderful savior
How majestic your whispers
And how humble your love
With a strength like no other
And the heart of a father
How majestic your whispers
What a wonderful God
No eye has fully seen how beautiful the cross
And we have only heard the faintest whispers
Of how great you are
You made the world and saw that it was good
You sent your only son, for you are good
What a wonderful maker
What a wonderful savior
How majestic your whispers
And how humble your love
With a strength like no other
And the heart of a father
How majestic your whispers
What a wonderful God
You made the world and saw that it was good
You sent your only son, for you are good
What a wonderful maker
What a wonderful savior
How majestic your whispers
And how humble your love
With a strength like no other
And the heart of a father
How majestic your whispers
What a wonderful God
how majestic your whispers
what a wonderful God
Copyright© 2009 Kamoteus/RonMiguel RN
This image is protected under the United States and International Copyright laws and may not be downloaded, reproduced, copied, transmitted or manipulated without written permission.
Ion Mystical World - Mystic Candles - Part I by Daniel Arrhakis (2018)
Candles symbolize light and in many mystical movements the wax symbolizes the body and the light, the spirit. Its use is widespread in many religions,creeds, cerimonies and cultures.
In Ancient Greece candles were offered to the gods of the Underworld as well as to those of fertility.
In Buddhism an ancient teaching says that "thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared". Candles are an age old traditional part of Buddhist rituals. In conjunction with incense and flowers, candles are placed in front of Buddhist shrines or statues and images of the Buddha as a mark of respect. They are often accompanied by offerings of food and drink. The light of the burning candle flame represents the light of the Buddha's teachings, the enlightenment of the Buddha.
Candles symbolizes light in the darkness and symbolizes the holy illumination of the spirit of truth and Purification. In Judaism the holiday Hanukkah is the 'Festival of Lights', and a candle is lit for each of the 8 nights. Used to ward off evil spirits, life safe as long as candle burns.
The symbolism of light also has always played an important part in Christian thought.
The Acts of the Apostles mentions the lighting of several lamps and candles during the services in the time of the Apostles. This reference to the large number of candles signifies that they were not used simply for lighting, but for their spiritual significance.
The Holy Fathers of the 7th Ecumenical Council decreed that in the Orthodox Church, the holy Icons and relics, the Cross of Christ, and the Holy gospel were to be honored by incense and the lighting of candles; and the Blessed Simeon of Thessalonica (15th Century) wrote that candles are also lit before the Icons of the Saints, for the sake of their good deeds that shine in this world.
The use of candles is seen as a sign of love for Christ Crucified and Dead, showing their faith in His radiant Resurrection. The candles, by their burning, remind one of the perpetual Light which in the Kingdom of Heaven makes glad the souls of the righteous who have pleased God.
They are present in Holy Baptism when three candles are lit before the baptismal font as a sign that the Baptism is accomplished in the Name of the Holy Trinity.
At the Sacrament of Holy Unction, seven candles are lit around the vessel of Holy Oil as a sign of the grace-bestowing action of the Gifts of the Holy Spirit.
And when the body of a deceased person is brought in the church, four candles are placed about the coffin to form a cross to show that the deceased was a Christian and their use symbolizes also a sign that the deceased's soul has left this world and entered the Kingdom of Heaven the Perpetual Light of God.
In Ion Mystical World candle lighting represent a ray of hope where there is nothing but darkness, enlightenment, or a search for truth. A moment for a prayer, for knowledge and guidance in our path. They are important at night and in dark places for light the darkness but also for protect us from the "Shadows".
We don't have the symbolism of Evil like in many religions or creeds we prefer call them "Shadows", many times formless which are manifested by cold temperatures, unpleasant smells or heavy shadows that make the environment uncomfortable. Often they are indirectly manifested by impure thoughts, sudden manifestations of mood or even feelings of hatred, anger, envy or revenge.
In any case the presence of a candle (of any color) gives us light but also illuminates our spirit and comforts us with its warmth, leading us to contemplation, interiorize and to reflect on our own desires, acts, fears and feelings. They helps to clean the environment, bring light to our thoughts and pacify our spirit by pushing away the shadows.
Sit a quiet peaceful room and light a candle. Now stare deep into the burning flame of the candle and focus on it; don't let your vision of the candle flame become blurred.
Keep staring at the candle’s burning flame do not be distracted and try to interpret the visions and thoughts you are receiving, if you prefer close your eyes and keep up with prayers and memories of your beloved ones or beautiful moments of your life; all good feelings help on this process of introspection and analysis but also of enlightenment.
Candle meditation thus acts as a powerful way of focusing your concentration.
Try to build up your experience of candle meditation from 5 minutes a day to 20 minutes and do this over several months.
“Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless like water.” — Bruce Lee
Thank you for your views, faves and comments, they are all much appreciated!
בְּרֵאשִׁית, בָּרָא אֱלֹהִים, אֵת הַשָּׁמַיִם, וְאֵת הָאָרֶץ. ב וְהָאָרֶץ, הָיְתָה תֹהוּ וָבֹהוּ, וְחֹשֶׁךְ, עַל-פְּנֵי תְהוֹם; וְרוּחַ אֱלֹהִים, מְרַחֶפֶת עַל-פְּנֵי הַמָּיִם. ג וַיֹּאמֶר אֱלֹהִים, יְהִי אוֹר; וַיְהִי-אוֹר. ד וַיַּרְא אֱלֹהִים אֶת-הָאוֹר, כִּי-טוֹב; וַיַּבְדֵּל אֱלֹהִים, בֵּין הָאוֹר וּבֵין הַחֹשֶׁךְ. ה וַיִּקְרָא אֱלֹהִים לָאוֹר יוֹם, וְלַחֹשֶׁךְ קָרָא לָיְלָה; וַיְהִי-עֶרֶב וַיְהִי-בֹקֶר, יוֹם אֶחָד.
Genesis
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 2Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
3And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. 4God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. 5God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day.
“Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves.
Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.”
― Bruce Lee
Keeping calm and listening to music.
HBW!
"Cascade"
scuplture
Dutch designers Atelier Van Lieshout
Rotterdam
Netherlands
CASCADE, 2010
The eight-metre tall sculpture is made of polyester, a material that can almost be regarded as the signature of Atelier Van Lieshout. Eighteen stacked oil drums, which appear to descend from the sky like a waterfall, combine to form a monumental column. From the life-size drums drips a syrupy mass in which one can make out the shapes of a score of human figures. They are anonymous beings, many of them in dramatic poses. Some of them climb upwards. In comparison with the robust contours of the oil drums, the figures are limp and formless. Despite that, these shapes form a network that supports the column. Drums and human shapes, rigid and limp forms, have melted together into a single whole.
A real moment in the real world. Sunlight passed through thick glass (for refraction) and alighted on a ruby-red vase. A white porcelain surface provided the reflection and streaks.
Good evening everyone,
its been a while since I have posted. I realise how much I missed taking pictures but I was taken away from it because my mind got taken away and I felt like drowning in some of my recent own worries.....
I came across this quote I like from Bruce Lee :
“Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves.
Empty your mind, be formless. Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.”
I hope this will help everyone that goes through any struggles in their life right now...
As I'm posting this photography I realise even more how water is a healing source for me...I felt it before and I feel it even more everytime I'm in contact with water.
Light and Love
Catherine
In the heart of the misty mountains, where much hopping was done, stood a castle, its grand towers rising like silent sentinels against the sky. The castle was home to a being known only as Cyboman, whose origin was shrouded in mystery.
Some whispered he was a golem of stone, others believed he was a machine of ancient design, and there were those who swore he was something else entirely—a creature that straddled the boundaries of the known and the unknown.
Cyboman's castle, with its labyrinthine halls and imposing ramparts, was the hub of both fear and fascination for the people of the surrounding villages. They spoke of his demands in hushed tones, for Cyboman did not ask for gold or silver; his tribute was of a different kind.
He sought unique gifts, items of intrigue and wonder, curiosities that he had never seen before. It was said that to bring Cyboman a gift that failed to pique his interest was to court disaster.
The tale of Cyboman began many generations ago. Villagers claimed that long before their ancestors had settled in the shadow of the castle, the highlands were haunted by a formless dread.
One day, Cyboman emerged from the mists, his body a tapestry of interlocking stone and metal, his eyes glowing with a cold, otherworldly light. From the moment he appeared, he exerted an enigmatic power over the land.
Every month, a procession would make its way to the castle, each villager clutching their most unique possessions. The villagers were not alone in this endeavor, for travelers and merchants passing through the highlands would also be stopped and compelled to offer something to the reclusive being.
The demand for uniqueness spurred creativity among the people, prompting them to craft, discover, and innovate in ways they had never imagined.
One such traveler, a wandering minstrel named Elara, found herself at the gates of Cyboman's castle. She had heard the stories and had prepared a gift, hoping that it would be enough to satisfy the enigmatic creature.
Elara's gift was not a physical object, but a song—an original ballad she had composed during her travels. As she stood before the castle's towering gates, she strummed her lute and sang of distant lands and forgotten legends.
Cyboman emerged from the shadows, his form both imposing and elegant. He listened intently to Elara's song, his eyes flickering with an almost imperceptible glow.
When she finished, he nodded, and the castle gates creaked open, allowing her to pass. Elara's heart raced as she stepped inside, unsure of what awaited her.
Within the castle, Elara was greeted by an astonishing sight. The interior was a marvel of ancient technology and artistry, filled with treasures and relics from countless ages. Cyboman led her to a grand hall, where he examined her lute with a level of curiosity that belied his enigmatic nature. He asked her to play another song, and then another, as if each note and lyric were a precious gift.
In return for her unique tribute, Cyboman offered Elara knowledge—a glimpse into the forgotten history of the highlands, and the secrets of the castle itself.
She learned that Cyboman was neither fully stone nor machine, but a creation born of both realms, crafted by an ancient civilization that sought to blend the organic and the inorganic. His purpose was to safeguard the knowledge and wonders of the past, to ensure they were not lost to time.
Cyboman then explained to her that he was no less than a member of the famed Million Warriors. Elara had never heard of the Million Warriors but she instinctively knew not to reveal that.
Elara's time in the castle was brief, but it left an indelible mark on her soul. She returned to the villages and shared her experience, inspiring others to seek out their own unique gifts for Cyboman.
From that point, the tribute became a tradition that transcended fear, evolving into a celebration of creativity and discovery. Each villager and traveler who visited the castle left a part of themselves behind, contributing to the ever-growing tapestry of wonders that filled Cyboman's domain.
As the years passed, the legend of Cyboman grew, and the highlands flourished with innovation and artistry. The enigmatic being became a guardian of the land, his presence a constant reminder of the power of creativity and the importance of preserving the past.
And though his true nature remained a mystery, Cyboman's legacy endured, a testament to the magic that lay within the fusion of stone, machine, and imagination.
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A year of the shows and performers of the Bijou Planks Theater.
Million Warriors
Cyboman
Series 1
Heroes
2021, Spin Master
The vertical division of Borobudur Temple into base, body, and superstructure perfectly accords with the conception of the Universe in Buddhist cosmology. It is believed that the universe is divided into three superimposing spheres, kamadhatu, rupadhatu, and arupadhatu, representing respectively the sphere of desires where we are bound to our desires, the sphere of forms where we abandon our desires but are still bound to name and form, and the sphere of formlessness where there is no longer either name or form.
At Borobudur Temple, the kamadhatu is represented by the base, the rupadhatu by the five square terraces, and the arupadhatu by the three circular platforms as well as the big stupa. The whole structure shows a unique blending of the very central ideas of ancestor worship, related to the idea of a terraced mountain, combined with the Buddhist concept of attaining Nirvana.
Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way around or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves.
Empty your mind, be formless.
Shapeless, like water. If you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or can crash. Be water, my friend.
- Bruce Lee
Kalaripayattu is an Indian martial art and fighting system that originated in Kerala and was practised by warriors of Kerala. These warriors belonged to all castes and religions. It is considered by some to be the oldest martial art still in existence, with its origin dating back to the 3rd century BCE.
Sony a7r3 | FE 16-35mm F2.8 GM
Words! Mere words!
How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel!
One could not escape from them.
And yet what a subtle magic there was in them!
They seemed to be able to give a plastic form to formless things...Mere words!
Was there anything so real as words?
The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde
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Parole! Soltanto parole!
Com'erano tremende!
Com'erano chiare, nette, crudeli!
Non si potevano evitare.
E che sottile magia racchiudevano!
Parevano avessero la virtù di plasmare le cose informi...Semplici parole!
Esistevano cose reali quanto le parole?
Equal in pain and in pleasure, equal in hope and in disappointment, equal in life and in death and complete as you are you can find peace.
.....
It is in he boundless ocean of my Self that the mind creation called the world takes place.
I am supremely peaceful and formless and I remain as such.
My true nature is not contained in objects, nor does any object exist in it, for it is infinite and spotless; so it is unattached, desireless and at peace and I remain as such.
I am pure consciousness and the world is like a magician's show. How could I imagine there is anything there to take up or reject.
from the Ashtavakra Gita
Quote from the great Bruce Lee - Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless — like water. Now you put water in a cup, it becomes the cup; You put water into a bottle it becomes the bottle; You put it in a teapot it becomes the teapot. Now water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.
The light came through the window,
Straight from the sun above,
And so inside my little room
There plunged the rays of love.
In streams of light I clearly saw
The dust you seldom see,
Out of which the nameless makes
A name for one like me.
All busy in the sunlight
The flecks did float and dance,
And I was tumbled up with them
In formless circumstance.
From Love Itself by Leonard Cohen
1. I, the pure, stainless and infinite Consciousness beyond maya, look upon this body in action like the body of another.
2. The mind, the intellect, the senses, etc. are all the play of Consciousness. They are unreal and seem to exist only due to lack of insight.
3. Unmoved by adversity, a friend of all the world in prosperity, without ideas of existence and non-existence, I Live free from misery.
4. Inactive am I, desireless, clear as the sky, free from hankering, tranquil, formless, everlasting and unmoving.
5. I have now clearly understood that the five elements, the three worlds and I myself are pure Consciousness.
6. I am above everything ; I am present everywhere ; I am like space; I am that which (really) exists; I am unable to say anything beyond this.
7. Let imaginary waves of universe rise or fall in me who am the ocean of infinite Consciousness ; there is no increase or decrease in me.
8. How wonderful that in me, the infinite ocean of Consciousness, waves of jivas (individual souls) rise, sport for a while and disappear according to their nature.
9. The world which has come into existence on account of my ignorance has dissolved likewise in me. I now directly experience the world as supreme bliss of Consciousness.
10. I prostrate to myself who am within all being, the ever free Self abiding as inner consciousness.
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Yoga Vasishta Sara - SELECTED VERSES - Meditation on the Self
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Painting by Nicolas Poussin
Magelang/Yogyakarta/Central Java/Indonesia (Borobudur is a 9th-century Mahayana Buddhist temple and the world's largest Buddhist temple. The temple consists of nine stacked platforms, six square and three circular, topped by a central dome. It is decorated with 2,672 relief panels and 504 Buddha statues. The central dome is surrounded by 72 Buddha statues, each seated inside a perforated stupa.
Built in the 9th century during the reign of the Sailendra Dynasty, the temple design follows Javanese Buddhist architecture, which blends the Indonesian indigenous cult of ancestor worship and the Buddhist concept of attaining Nirvana. The temple demonstrates the influences of Gupta art that reflects India's influence on the region, yet there are enough indigenous scenes and elements incorporated to make Borobudur uniquely Indonesian.
The monument is a shrine to the Lord Buddha and a place for Buddhist pilgrimage. The pilgrim journey begins at the base of the monument and follows a path around the monument, ascending to the top through three levels symbolic of Buddhist cosmology: Kāmadhātu (the world of desire), Rupadhatu (the world of forms) and Arupadhatu (the world of formlessness). The monument guides pilgrims through an extensive system of stairways and corridors with 1,460 narrative relief panels on the walls and the balustrades. Borobudur has the largest and most complete ensemble of Buddhist reliefs in the world.
Borobudur was constructed in the 9th century and abandoned following the 14th-century decline of Hindu kingdoms in Java and the Javanese conversion to Islam...)
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