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O Mary, Seat of Wisdom, so many persons of common intellect have made through your intercession admirable progress in their studies.
I hereby choose you as my guardian and patron of my studies. I humbly ask you to obtain for me the grace of the Holy Spirit, so that from now on I can understand more quickly, retain more readily, and express myself more fluently. May the example of my life serve to honor you and your Son, Jesus. Amen.
Confucianism divides men into rulers and ruled. From the former it requires a sense of duty and from the latter filial piety. Here we see that the social Law is in no wise detached from the spiritual meaning of the whole tradition; inevitably it has concomitant spiritual elements which concern man as such, that is, man envisaged independently from society.
Indeed every man rules or determines something which is placed in some way in dependence on him, even if it is only his own soul, made up of images and desires; and, again, every man is governed or determined by something which in some way surpasses him, even if it is only his own intellect. Thus each man bears in himself the double obligation of duty in relation to the inferior and of piety in relation to the superior, and this double principle is capable of incalculable applications: it includes even inanimate nature in the sense that each thing can have in relation to us, according to the circumstances, the function of being either a celestial principle or a terrestrial substance.
Chinese wisdom foresees an application that is first social and secondly personal of the universal pair 'Heaven-Earth' ( Tien-Tz) and thus a conformity with the 'Ineffable' ( Wu-Ming) from which this pair proceeds, the Tao.
The point of junction between Confucianism and Taoism is in the virtues. The former envisages their social and human value and the second their intrinsic and spiritual quality. Man is the place where Earth and Heaven meet.
Egoism must be extinguished between devotion and duty.
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F. Schuon: The Chinese Religions from SPHF
“If we listened to our intellect we'd never have a love affair. We'd never have a friendship.
We'd never go in business because we'd be cynical: "It's gonna go wrong." Or "She's going to hurt me." Or,"I've had a couple of bad love affairs, so therefore . . ."
Well, that's nonsense.
You're going to miss life.
You've got to jump off the cliff all the time and build your wings on the way down.”
I Only Want You
Speaking In Tongues
So Easy
Flames Go Higher
Bad Dream Mama
English Girl
Stacks O' Money
Midnight Creeper
Stuck In The Metal
Already Died
Kiss The Devil
Whorehoppin' (Shit, Goddamn)
San Berdoo Sundburn
Wastin' My Time
Miss Alissa
Who'll love the Devil?
Who'll song his song?
Who will love the Devil and his song?
Who'll love the Devil?
Who'll kiss his tongue?
Who will kiss the Devil on his tongue?
Eagles of Death Metal is an American rock band from Palm Desert, California, formed in 1998 by best friends Jesse Hughes and Josh Homme. Despite their band name, Eagles of Death Metal is not a death metal band. The story goes that a friend was introducing Josh Homme to the death metal genre. When he played a song by the Polish band Vader and made a claim that the song was within the death metal genre, Homme then referred to Vader as "The Eagles of Death Metal". After hearing this phrase, he wondered what a cross between the Eagles and a death metal band would sound like. With that, the band was born.
TRANSFORMATIONS OF AVALOKITESVARA.In case, young man of good family, creatures, carried off by the current of rivers, should implore the Bodhisattva Mahâsattva Avalokitesvara, all rivers will afford them a ford.
The concert of November 13th never ended. I would thus like, this time, to have in mind the image of a public who applauds jubilant and of a group happy to be there, greeting the crowd before leaving the scene(stage). I feel irreparably bound(connected) to this public and to this group from now on. At night of November 13th, we found ourselves parked in an inner courtyard with a part(party) of the group: the bass player, the sound engineer, etc. We had discussed. See again(revise) them on stage, with the physical courage which it always supposes, and in particular in these circumstances, it will be a very strong image. Finally, it is doubtless a positive image of myself whom I fetch through them. The hours pass, the term approaches, and I have more and more the feeling that it is about the concert.
www.lefigaro.fr/musique/2016/02/16/03006-20160216ARTFIG00...
In its psychological association the eagle shares and opposite symbolism which can be reversed through personal effort. Being symbolic of St. John the evangelist most firmly established in the intellectual realm, the eagle symbolizes the height of intellectual activity; however, this bird also can represent the degrading, consuming passion, of the intellect, which causes humans not to be ruled by the mind but the body. The eagle displays such behavior when he interrupts his elegant flight to swoop down on his prey to satisfy his carnal needs. At times humans behave the same way, their passions control them. This is the reason the eagle symbolized Adam, the first man, in medieval bestiaries: Adam, too, who originally dwelt close to heaven, lost his glory when sighting the forbidden fruit. Humankind like the eagle can improve its status by returning to the intellectual realm. This also has alchemical symbolism: when an experiment failed the alchemist had to start over again.The eagle's alchemical symbolism can readily be recognized in that the goals of alchemy are the transmutation of base (impure) metals or spirits into more purer or finer ones. This called for the destruction of the base metals to release the spirit and the renewal or reunion of the spirit in the new one. This is a renewal process, the death one the one and birth of the new, symbolized in the eagle. The eagle is thought as a royal bird as alchemy was called the royal art.
www.themystica.com/mystica/articles/~alchemy/eagle.html
But already, the room stamps for reminders(abseilings). Encouraged by mooses(run-ups) francophiles of Jesse Hughes, who wrapped himself later(just now) with a scarf(sling) blue, white, red knitted which anonymous hands tightened(stretched out to) him(her) since the pit, and by this three-colored(French) guitar which he took(brought) out for his last piece, the crowd demands La Marseillaise. It will be Brown Sugar, Rolling Stones. For whom dreamed about the " first concert besides of (its) life ", it is a value far more rock 'n' roll. At night, on the boulevard where the crowd passes by, Jesse Hughes's deep words resound as a mantra: " mother fucker, nobody will prevent me from continuing this trick "
Mais déjà, la salle frappe du pied pour les rappels. Encouragé par les élans francophiles de Jesse Hughes, qui s’est enveloppé tout à l’heure d’une écharpe bleu, blanc, rouge en tricot que des mains anonymes lui ont tendue depuis la fosse, et par cette guitare tricolore qu’il a sortie pour son dernier morceau, la foule réclame La Marseillaise. Ce sera Brown Sugar, des Rolling Stones. Pour qui rêvait du « premier concert du reste de [sa] vie », c’est une valeur autrement plus rock’n’roll. Dans la nuit, sur le boulevard où la foule s’écoule, les paroles profondes de Jesse Hughes résonnent comme un mantra : « Enculés de votre mère, personne ne m’empêchera de continuer ce truc. »
En savoir plus sur www.lemonde.fr/attaques-a-paris/article/2016/02/17/eagles...
connard, personne ne m'empêchera de continuer ce tour est plus juste
The boys rolled into Vegas in style for the annual Intellects band reunion. Truthfully, Vegas ain't much to look at during the daytime. It's the night time lights that really grab you. So, it seemed like a good time for a little sliding.
Happy Slider's Sunday everyone. Check out the Intellect's reunion poster in the comments section below.
Las Vegas, Nevada
Master Engineer Borri Fuseforged:
Dwarven engineers, known throughout the lands for their superb craftsmanship and high intellect. These practical theorists accompany the dwarven battle throngs with their deadly war machines and war strategies. Very few of these dwarven intellectuals achieve the title of Master Engineer, and revered greybeard Borri Fuseforged is among those elite individuals.
Thought of as an eccentric when he was just a beardling, Borri was incessant in his pursuits of inventions. A natural genius when it came to mathematics and engineering theories, coupled with his mischievous nature, Borri surpassed his peers in the Engineers Guild at an early age. He constantly tinkered with anything he could get his hands on, inventing knickknacks like the vibrating carving knife, the sonifying earpiece, and a particularly interesting beer mug that always stays cold.
It wasn't until his later years, when he began to see whisps of grey in his beard, that Borri began to focus his inventive mind on assisting the dwarven military. Creations like the Dwarven Steam Barge, Slayer Dropper, and the Ranged Thunder Gun allowed his peers in the guild to see Borri's truly superb intellect and elevate him to Master Engineer. Every dwarf elevated to this position carries the Master Engineer staff, so his peers can be reminded of who they are with.
During battle, Borri stayes close to his beloved war machine inventions, guiding the crews on where to best steer a rudder, aim a cannon, or fix an engineering issue. Using his Ranged Thunder Gun, Borri Fuseforged is able to pinpoint and execute enemy lords and heroes across an entire battlefield. When he needs to partake in close quarters combat, Borri unleashes the power of his triple-barreled Thunder Shot, blasting through ranks of orcs and goblins alike. Many a dwarven throng has Borri Fuseforged to thank for superb strategies and excellent working war machines.
Doom’s Journal
August 29
The castle was cold this morning. If I hadn’t already executed the facilities manager I would go execute him right now. I contemplated using the Time Platform to go back and execute the facilities manager yet again, but decided the consequences would be a distraction.
Susan arrives today.
I still have to go through my notes, memorize my lines, and get the new “lair” set decorated and prepped. I really think this World Conquest Plan could be the one, it pushes all the right romantic buttons. It will make Reed look witless and controlling (not difficult), force the brother and the brute to act overprotective, and show Susan she can be empowered and fully equal to any man. In fact the entire scenario can only be defeated by Susan. Not fire, nor intellect, nor brute strength will have any effect. Only the thoughtfully applied abilities of Susan can save the world today, and “defeat” Doom.
It will be difficult of course. There’s little point in just handing her a victory, not when I’m trying to show her how strong and independent she can be. If during the day’s events her brother, or her damnable boyfriend were to be maimed (oh darn), or even killed (hee hee!), then so be it.
I changed my mind. I am going to pop into the Time Platform and execute that idiot facilities manager after all. I think it will be just the thing to relax me.
“The universe is built on a plan the profound symmetry of which is somehow present in the inner structure of our intellect”
City of Westminister, CO
"I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind."
- Emily Brontë
All my affection zoe_blue happy birthday! Your beauty and intellect has done so much to enrich my life!
Additional art work by my old Silverlake friend Aaron Goland and texture by les brumes.
Aaron Goland now works and lives in the Chicago area.
"Among the Scholastic Doctors, the chief and master of all towers Thomas Aquinas, who, as Cajetan observes, because "he most venerated the ancient doctors of the Church, in a certain way seems to have inherited the intellect of all." The doctrines of those illustrious men, like the scattered members of a body, Thomas collected together and cemented, distributed in wonderful order, and so increased with important additions that he is rightly and deservedly esteemed the special bulwark and glory of the Catholic faith. With his spirit at once humble and swift, his memory ready and tenacious, his life spotless throughout, a lover of truth for its own sake, richly endowed with human and divine science, like the sun he heated the world with the warmth of his virtues and filled it with the splendor of his teaching."
– Pope Leo XIII.
Detail from the 'Triumph of St Thomas Aquinas' painted by Benozzo Gozzoli in 1471. This painting is in the Louvre Museum in Paris.
The colour Yellow is the colour of Sunshine, Hope, and Happiness !! It stands for Freshness, Positivity, Clarity, Energy, Optimism, Enlightenment, Remembrance, Intellect, Spirituality, Honor, Loyalty, and Joy !!! ……What else do you want???
I personally prefer the Golden Yellow , because it makes my heart sing, like the colour White does !! Therefore, I have plenty of both representatives in the garden, which make EXCELLENT associations with all the rest strong bloom colours in the garden, like the reds , Indian pinks, and blues!! Well, I would say a very ….Mediterranean-style-coloured garden…
"At the pessimism of the intellect must counterpose the optimism of the will"
Antonio Gramsci.-
“Al pesimismo de la inteligencia hay que contraponerlo al optimismo de la voluntad”
Antonio Gramsci.-
Sad Chimpanzee at Colchester Zoo.
The complexity of a Chimpanzee intellect is matched by their rich and complex emotional repertoire. They feel, and they express those feelings. They use feelings as yet another way to navigate through their lives and relationships. Their feelings range from anger to exhilaration, from humor to despondence – and every other emotion we know.
"The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct."
- Carl Jung
"It is a happy talent to know how to play."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Thanks a lot for stopping by, my friends, I truly appreciate it...!
Best seen on black - press L or click on image above.
If you were to break me up into nine different people, these are most likely the people you'd get:
1) The gangster
2) The computer geek
3) The professional
4) The daddy
5) The photographer
6) The sports nut
7) The preppy bully
8) The gamer
9) The intellect
Strobist:
AB800 w/ Softbox above camera
AB800 w/ reflector camera left and behind high
Triggered with Cybercyncs
There’s an anecdote about man meeting god one day and they both exclaiming to each other, “I created you.”. But there’s much more beyond our intellect that makes us what we are.
“Put your heart, mind, intellect and soul even to your smallest acts.
This is the secret of success”.
(Swami Sivananda)
This is a picture of Vinod who is a pehlwan (Indian wrestler), while Pritviraj (an other pehlwan) is giving him a facial massage during their training at the gym, the akhara which is at Scindia Ghat along river Ganga in Varanasi (Benaras).
© All photographs are copyrighted and all rights reserved.
Please do not use any photographs without permission (even for private use).
The use of any work without consent of the artist is PROHIBITED and will lead automatically to consequences.
October 1
The plant Pammy gave me is startin to turn into its own little Jungle. I’ve been askin’ Orchid to water it when I’m out, and I dunno what she’s been waterin’ it with, but that little guy is happy. Her and Pam should exchange gardening tips. Sweet kid, that Orchid. Doesn’t say much, but she seems to mean well. I have no idea what Waller offered her to stick around. Come to think of it, I don’t really know anything about her at all. Except she’s bonkin’ Patten upstairs.
Ugh.
BUT, we’re not here to discuss petals and the crackpot, we’re here for somethin’ else. GUESS. WHO I HAD. IN MY OFFICE THIS MORNING. C’mon guess! (Naw you’ll never guess, you’re a journal). None other than LEX. FREAKIN’. LUTHOR. That’s right! He disappeared for a while after that whole Cloudburst disaster Digger and Floyd were tellin’ me about, then he popped up again, get this, completely penniless, tryin to steal from a bake shop! He got thrown into the general clink, but Amanda pulled all the right strings and got him on the Squad purely just to humiliate him. Normally I’d be kinda appalled, but if anyone deserves it, it’s him. Either way, I was sent to “analyze” ole baldy, and hoo boy, it was a riot. . .
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Excerpt from Harley’s tape recorder:
The sound of chairs being pushed around on the floor rings out briefly. Papers are laid on the table
Harley, warmly: Hello, Mister Luthor, let me be the first t’welcome you here to lovely Belle Reve.
Luthor, entirely flat: You’re hardly the first. Don’t I know you, Doctor . . . ?
Harley: Quinzel! Doctor Quinzel.
Luthor, more animated: Quinzel. Harley Quinn? You’re my ‘psychiatrist’? *Luthor laughs* Alright, Now I know this is one of your boyfriend’s sick pranks.
Harley, entirely calm: I’ll have you know Mister Luthor, I am a trained an’ seasoned pro. And my ‘boyfriend’ and I haven’t spoken in some time. In fact, I kinda hope he’s dead.
Luthor: Well, at least we have that in common. So tell me, what is it that you want to talk to me about?
Harley, flipping through papers: Welllll, it says here that I’m supposed to see if you’re fit for field missions, but let’s not insult both of our intellects, huh? Instead, I wanna talk to ya about The Big Blue Boy Scout.
There is about a minute of silence. Then;
Luthor: Didn’t you bite my head once?
Harley: Let’s just try an’ see past that. What is it, about Superman, that drives you so bananas?
There is another pause, and then:
Luthor: Well, ‘Doctor’ Quinn, it’s a number of things.
Harley: Let’s start with the most basic.
Luthor: Well, to start, he’s not even really a man. He’s not even of this earth. By that reasoning alone, Superman is a fraud. He masquerades as a symbol of hope, of human perfection, and yet his very name is a deception. Am I the only person left who remembers he’s not even one of us?
Harley: So to you, he’s unworthy of his hero-worship.
Luthor scoffs: Unworthy doesn’t begin to describe it. He isn’t god. He hasn’t helped humanity progress. He merely catches purse snatchers and the occasional radioactive psychopath. And yet humanity treats him as a supreme being, holding all our lives in his hands.
Harley: So, you see him as a false god?
Luthor: Indeed. Humanity is its own maker: Its own supreme being. Only we as a species have propelled ourselves this far. It only follows that Superman would represent a Demiurge, in the Gnostic terms. We’re human beings, it’s only natural that we follow the strongest and most cunning of our kind. That arrogant caveman has been basing his motivations off of that fact alone for centuries. But when the strongest and most cunning are not only a fraud in their name, but their ideals, that is something that weakens humanity. Take his principles for instance. Hell, just take one. Take Justice. An abstract concept, with no true definition. In a sense, Justice could mean anything. For some, it means sending a murderer to prison. For others, it’s removing the hands of a thief. Would Superman allow a thief’s hands removed? Of course not. Justice is too broad a concept for one ma-, excuse me, one being, to fully encompass.
Harley: Fascinating. And if not for Superman, who do you think would stand in that place, leading humanity?
Luthor chuckles: Well, I don’t wish to self-aggrandize, but me, naturally. Look at me, the peak of human intelligence, the peak of human physicality. I was hewn for this role.
Harley: Ah, and that’s why you masqueraded as him for so long, protecting Metropolis yourself.
Luthor, getting energized: That was the only point when the world was as it should be. And for a time, I thought he and I could work in harmony. But, as I should have anticipated, he abandoned me, and cast aside both my help and my trust.
Harley: Now, an’ excuse me for sayin’ this, but dressin’ up in a big red S and protecting Metropolis, doesn’t sound like hatred for an enemy. It sounds a lot like hero worship.
Luthor says nothing.
Harley: I’d even go so far as to say that, maybe, deep down, you even . . . love him.
Luthor, angry: Hold your tongue, woman.
Harley: I mean think about it! Everyone always accused my “Ex-Boyfriend” of bein in love with Bats, even me after a while, and it’s such a similar thing! The two of you are always buildin’ death traps tailor-made, you’re dressin’ up in their costumes and sometimes takin’ on their roles. Look at you, you’ve done so much workin’ out so achieve his body on yourself. Hell, Mercy once told me at a party y’sleep with a picture of him under your pillow! That’s crazy stalker girlfriend stuff, Lex!
Luthor, angrier: Shut up, SHUT UP! I loathe every fiber of his being. I want nothing more than his insipid, vacant smile wiped from the face of this earth. I – no, no I see what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to get me angry on purpose. I don’t know why. Maybe because That Bitch in charge told you to. Well, I’m not going to be goaded into violence for your amusement.
Harley, after a decent pause: You want to have sex with Superman.
The sound of angry shouting, yelling, and crashing. The table audibly flips, a chair smashes. The sound of prison shoes on metal walls is heard. The creak of the door and sounds of struggle as guards manage to subdue Luthor.
There is panting, and silence, then:
Luthor, quietly, scathingly: I hope That Bitch blows your head clean off you psychopathic little clown.
There is the sound of him spitting, then being dragged bodily out of the room.
The sound of footsteps, heels on the tile floor, the door shutting, and the heels returning. The chair squeaks.
Then, the sound of Harleen Quinzel laughing uproariously. It echoes around the room. She’s laughing so hard, tears are in her eyes, then there is a click on the recorder, and nothing.
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I'm not gonna lie, I could have just made the entire arc this conversation.
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
Have you ever felt this total upliftment , watching bloom photos on your computer screen?? This awe, that is a very emotional moment, like sharing with a beloved person a clear starry sky, somewhere out there all alone , during a serene summer night?
Well, for me, both situations, create unbelievable strong feelings of upliftment, of a deep, emotional gratitude, of thanking the Universe, because I have eyes to see , a human heart to feel, an intellect to admire…
Well here's my version of the Bronze Age Clayface -- Preston Payne.
- Transmits viral infection that courses through his body into others. He is immune to his own power to some extent, his touch causes organic matter to bubble, blister and melt into a pool of protoplasm.
- Gifted with an enhanced intellect that enabled him to graduate top of his class at Hudson University, and become a researcher at S.T.A.R. Labs immediately following graduation.
- Cannot exist outside of his special exoskeleton or else anything he comes into physical contact with will dissolve. In addition, Payne suffers massive migraines -- he refers to as the "fever" -- which can only be alleviated by transmitting his virus to another resource, ultimately killing them.
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I took some liberties instead of going for a faithful comic book design. The helmet, I would have preferred to use regular clear helmet instead of this one, if only I could have found the damn thing. I really should organize my parts better than just dumping them in my large "minifig parts" plastic bin. Since he's a former S.T.A.R. Labs employee I gave him a lab coat instead of using a blue cape/cloak.
Overall he's a pretty simple custom. But gets the job done, I just have to finish getting the parts for his wife Lady Clay and I'll be done with my Mud Pack.
C&C is always welcomed and appreciated.
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The Mud Pack:
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- Preston Payne
Taken on our recent weekend getaway to Copenhagen. For more information on these photos and other interesting cities, please check out Postcard Intellect
Zeyon: One of the last Great Beings Know as the Ventrillions. Zeyon is One of if Not the most powerful being in the Multiverse Capable of taking on Huge armies Single handily, His Super speed ,Strength, time Manipulation , strategic Capabilities , And Genius intellect Make him A match for anyone!
disuse, noun...the state of not being used.
"Just as iron rusts from disuse, even so does inaction spoil the intellect."
Leonardo da Vinci
...better keep those brain cells busy then!
textures thanks to Skeletalmess
Alice: Diana has really gotten my curiosity up, Batman. Quite a declaration! The greatest mind in the Justice League!
Batman: ...
Wonder Woman: (thinking) Oh no, I know that look. Alice, be careful with what you say. Should I interrupt? No, it would do no good.
Alice: Why, it's actually like a gauntlet being thrown down. I think such an intellect should be tested.
Batman: ...
"50 shades of ... blue!"
Blue like the sea and the sky .. Blue represents the intellect, truth, fidelity, constancy; it is the color of great depth, the feminine principle. It is the color of calm, infinity, peace, emotional serenity and harmony.
Tilly wears: Gzhel tatoo by *Find the Fish* 🐟🐠
Lorez wears: Gzhel Face Tattoo by *Find the Fish* & Slavic Siren Tintable by *Find the Fish*
Where can you find them?
Inworld 1: maps.secondlife.com/.../Buenos%20Aries.../146/218/26
Inworld 2: maps.secondlife.com/secon.../Serena%20Upolu/45/210/30
“In the morning I bathe my intellect in the stupendous and cosmogonal philosophy of the Bhagavad gita, since whose composition years of the gods have elapsed, and in comparison with which our modern world and its literature seem puny and trivial; and I doubt if that philosophy is not to be referred to a previous state of existence, so remote is its sublimity from our conceptions.
I lay down the book and go to my well for water, and lo! there I meet the servant of the Bramin, priest of Brahma and Vishnu and Indra, who still sits in his temple on the Ganges reading the Vedas, or dwells at the root of a tree with his crust and water jug. I meet his servant come to draw water for his master, and our buckets as it were grate together in the same well. The pure Walden water is mingled with the sacred water of the Ganges.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden: Or, Life in the Woods
For the psychedelic trance musical band, see Astral Projection (band). For physical travel to other stars, see Interstellar travel."The Separation of the Spirit Body" from , a Chinese handbook on alchemy and meditation
Astral projection (or astral travel) is a term used in esotericism to describe a willful out-of-body experience (OBE), a supposed form of telepathy, that assumes the existence of a soul or consciousness called an "astral body" that is separate from the physical body and capable of travelling outside of it throughout the universe where it interacts with other astral bodies and is capable of implanting ideas into other people's minds. The idea of astral travel is rooted in esotericism and occultism, and was promoted by 19th century Theosophists—philosophers who explored the mystical and preternatural origins of the natural world.It is sometimes reported in association with dreams, and forms of meditation.Some individuals have reported perceptions similar to descriptions of astral projection that were induced through various hallucinogenic and hypnotic means (including self-hypnosis). There is no scientific evidence that there is a consciousness or soul which is separate from normal neural activity or that one can consciously leave the body and make observations..Claims of scientific evidence of astral projection are pseudoscientific.According to classical, medieval and renaissance Hermeticism, Neoplatonism, and later Theosophist and Rosicrucian thought the astral body is an intermediate body of light linking the rational soul to the physical body while the astral plane is an intermediate world of light between Heaven and Earth, composed of the spheres of the planets and stars. These astral spheres were held to be populated by angels, demons and spirits.The subtle bodies, and their associated planes of existence, form an essential part of the esoteric systems that deal with astral phenomena. In the neo-platonism of Plotinus, for example, the individual is a microcosm ("small world") of the universe (the macrocosm or "great world"). "The rational soul...is akin to the great Soul of the World" while "the material universe, like the body, is made as a faded image of the Intelligible". Each succeeding plane of manifestation is causal to the next, a world-view called emanationism; "from the One proceeds Intellect, from Intellect Soul, and from Soul - in its lower phase, or that of Nature - the material universe".Often these bodies and their planes of existence are depicted as a series of concentric circles or nested spheres, with a separate body traversing each realm.[18] The idea of the astral figured prominently in the work of the nineteenth-century French occultist Eliphas Levi, whence it was adopted and developed further by Theosophy, and used afterwards by other esoteric movements.
Biblica
Some have claimed that the Bible contains mentions of astral projection.[weasel words]Carrington, Muldoon, Peterson, and Williams—renowned experts in the field of astral projection—claim that the subtle body is attached to the physical body by means of a psychic silver cord. The final chapter of the Book of Ecclesiastes is often cited in this respect: "Before the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be shattered at the fountain, or the wheel be broken at the cistern." Scherman, however, contends that the context points to this being merely a metaphor, comparing the body to a machine, with the silver cord referring to the spine
Paul's Second Epistle to the Corinthians is more generally agreed to refer to the astral planes; "I know a man in Christ, fourteen years ago, (whether in the body I know not, or out of the body I know not, God knows) such a one caught up to the third heaven..."This statement gave rise to the Visio Pauli, a tract that offers a vision of heaven and hell, a forerunner of visions attributed to Adomnan and Tnugdalus as well as of Dante's Divine Comedy.
Ancient Egypt
Similar concepts of soul travel appear in various other religious traditions. For example, ancient Egyptian teachings present the soul (ba) as having the ability to hover outside the physical body via the ka, or subtle body
China
Taoist alchemical practice involves creation of an energy body by breathing meditations, drawing energy into a 'pearl' that is then "circulated". "Xiangzi ... with a drum as his pillow fell fast asleep, snoring and motionless. His primordial spirit, however, went straight into the banquet room and said, "My lords, here I am again." ... When Tuizhi walked ... with the officials to take a look, there really was a Taoist sleeping on the ground and snoring like thunder. Yet inside, in the side room, there was another Taoist beating a fisher drum and singing Taoist songs. The officials all said, “Although there are two different people, their faces and clothes are exactly alike. Clearly he is a divine immortal who can divide his body and appear in several places at once. ..." ... At that moment, the Taoist in the side room came walking out, and the Taoist sleeping on the ground woke up. The two merged into one."
India
Similar ideas such as the Lin'ga S'ari-ra are found in ancient Hindu scriptures such as the YogaVashishta-Maharamayana of Valmiki. Modern Indians who have vouched for astral projection include Paramahansa Yogananda who witnessed Swami Pranabananda doing a miracle through a possible astral projection, and Osho (Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh) who practiced it himself.The Indian spiritual teacher Meher Baba described one's use of astral projection:In the advancing stages leading to the beginning of the path, the aspirant becomes spiritually prepared for being entrusted with free use of the forces of the inner world of the astral bodies. He may then undertake astral journeys in his astral body, leaving the physical body in sleep or wakefulness. The astral journeys that are taken unconsciously are much less important than those undertaken with full consciousness and as a result of deliberate volition. This implies conscious use of the astral body. Conscious separation of the astral body from the outer vehicle of the gross body has its own value in making the soul feel its distinction from the gross body and in arriving at fuller control of the gross body. One can, at will, put on and take off the external gross body as if it were a cloak, and use the astral body for experiencing the inner world of the astral and for undertaking journeys through it, if and when necessary....The ability to undertake astral journeys therefore involves considerable expansion of one’s scope for experience. It brings opportunities for promoting one’s own spiritual advancement, which begins with the involution of consciousness.Astral projection is one of the Siddhis considered achievable by yoga practitioners through self-disciplined practice. In the epic The Mahabharata Drona leaves his physical body to see if his son is alive.
Japan
The 'ikiryō' as illustrated by Toriyama Sekien.
In Japanese mythology, an ikiryō (生霊?) (also read shōryō, seirei, or ikisudama) is a manifestation of the soul of a living person separately from their body. Traditionally, if someone holds a sufficient grudge against another person, it is believed that a part or the whole of their soul can temporarily leave their body and appear before the target of their hate in order to curse or otherwise harm them, similar to an evil eye. Souls are also believed to leave a living body when the body is extremely sick or comatose; such ikiryō are not malevolent.[
Inuit In some Inuit groups, people with special capabilities are said to travel to (mythological) remote places, and report their experiences and things important to their fellows or the entire community; how to stop bad luck in hunting, cure a sick person etc., things unavailable to people with normal capabilities.
Amazon
The yaskomo of the Waiwai is believed to be able to perform a "soul flight" that can serve several functions such as healing, flying to the sky to consult cosmological beings (the moon or the brother of the moon) to get a name for a new-born baby, flying to the cave of peccaries' mountains to ask the father of peccaries for abundance of game or flying deep down in a river to get the help of other beings.
"Astral" and "etheric"
The expression "astral projection" came to be used in two different ways. For the Golden Dawn and some Theosophists[ it retained the classical and medieval philosophers' meaning of journeying to other worlds, heavens, hells, the astrological spheres and other imaginal landscapes, but outside these circles the term was increasingly applied to non-physical travel around the physical world.Though this usage continues to be widespread, the term, "etheric travel", used by some later Theosophists, offers a useful distinction. Some experients say they visit different times and/or places:"etheric", then, is used to represent the sense of being "out of the body" in the physical world, whereas "astral" may connote some alteration in time-perception. Robert Monroe describes the former type of projection as "Locale I" or the "Here-Now", involving people and places that actually exist: Robert Bruce calls it the "Real Time Zone" (RTZ) and describes it as the non-physical dimension-level closest to the physical. This etheric body is usually, though not always, invisible but is often perceived by the experient as connected to the physical body during separation by a “silver cord”. Some link "falling" dreams with projection.According to Max Heindel, the etheric "double" serves as a medium between the astral and physical realms. In his system the ether, also called prana, is the "vital force" that empowers the physical forms to change. From his descriptions it can be inferred that, to him, when one views the physical during an out-of-body experience, one is not technically "in" the astral realm at all.Other experients may describe a domain that has no parallel to any known physical setting. Environments may be populated or unpopulated, artificial, natural or abstract, and the experience may be beatific, horrific or neutral. A common Theosophical belief is that one may access a compendium of mystical knowledge called the Akashic records. In many accounts the experiencer correlates the astral world with the world of dreams. Some even report seeing other dreamers enacting dream scenarios unaware of their wider environment.The astral environment may also be divided into levels or sub-planes by theorists, but there are many different views in various traditions concerning the overall structure of the astral planes: they may include heavens and hells and other after-death spheres, transcendent environments, or other less-easily characterized states
Notable practitioners
Emanuel Swedenborg was one of the first practitioners to write extensively about the out-of-body experience, in his Spiritual Diary (1747–65). French philosopher and novelist Honoré de Balzac's fictional work "Louis Lambert" suggests he may have had some astral or out-of-body experience.
There are many twentieth century publications on astral projection,although only a few authors remain widely cited. These include Robert Monroe,Oliver Fox,Sylvan Muldoon, and Hereward Carrington,and Yram.Robert Monroe's accounts of journeys to other realms (1971–1994) popularized the term "OBE" and were translated into a large number of languages. Though his books themselves only placed secondary importance on descriptions of method, Monroe also founded an institute dedicated to research, exploration and non-profit dissemination of auditory technology for assisting others in achieving projection and related altered states of consciousness.Robert Bruce,William Buhlman, and Albert Taylor,have discussed their theories and findings on the syndicated show Coast to Coast AM several times. Michael Crichton gives lengthy and detailed explanations and experience of astral projection in his non-fiction book Travels.The soul's ability to leave the body at will or while sleeping and visit the various planes of heaven is also known as "soul travel". The practice is taught in Surat Shabd Yoga, where the experience is achieved mostly by meditation techniques and mantra repetition. All Sant Mat Gurus widely spoke about this kind of out of body experience, such as Kirpal Singh.Eckankar describes Soul Travel broadly as movement of the true, spiritual self (Soul) closer to the heart of God. While the contemplative may perceive the experience as travel, Soul itself is said not to move but to "come into an agreement with fixed states and conditions that already exist in some world of time and space".American Harold Klemp, the current Spiritual Leader of Eckankar practices and teaches Soul Travel, as did his predecessors, through contemplative techniques known as the Spiritual Exercises of ECK (Divine Spirit).
In occult traditions, practices range from inducing trance states to the mental construction of a second body, called the Body of Light in Aleister Crowley's writings, through visualization and controlled breathing, followed by the transfer of consciousness to the secondary body by a mental act of will.There is no known scientific evidence that astral projection as an objective phenomenon exists.There are cases of patients having experiences suggestive of astral projection from brain stimulation treatments and hallucinogenic drugs.Robert Todd Carroll writes that the main evidence to support claims of astral travel is anecdotal and comes "in the form of testimonials of those who claim to have experienced being out of their bodies when they may have been out of their minds."Subjects in parapsychological experiments have attempted to project their astral bodies to distant rooms and see what was happening. However, such experiments have produced negative results.According to Bob Bruce of the Queensland Skeptics Association, astral projection is "just imagining", or "a dream state". Although parallel universes are mathematically possible,Bruce writes that the existence of an astral plane is contrary to the limits of science. “We know how many possibilities there are for dimensions and we know what the dimensions do. None of it correlates with things like astral projection.” Bruce attributes astral experiences such as "meetings" alleged by practitioners to confirmation bias and coincidences.The psychologist Donovan Rawcliffe has written that astral projection can be explained by delusion, hallucination and vivid dreams.Arthur W. Wiggins, writing in Quantum Leaps in the Wrong Direction: Where Real Science Ends...and Pseudoscience Begins, said that purported evidence of the ability to astral travel great distances and give descriptions of places visited is predominantly anecdotal. In 1978, Ingo Swann provided a test of his alleged ability to astral travel to Jupiter and observe details of the planet. Actual findings and information were later compared to Swann's claimed observations; according to an evaluation by James Randi, Swann's accuracy was "unconvincing and unimpressive" with an overall score of 37 percent. Wiggins considers astral travel an illusion, and looks to neuroanatomy, human belief, imagination and prior knowledge to provide prosaic explanations for those claiming to experience it.A recent study, The AWARE Study, conducted by medical researcher Sam Parnia, was designed to get information on possible OBEs during cardiac arrest.
== Markovia- Five Months Ago==
Slade Wilson. If anyone asked who was the best killer in the business, chances are, his name would be the first to come up every time. Trained in the US army, he was the only one in his squad to volunteer for the experiments that would grant him enhanced strength, intellect and a healing factor. When Strange recruited him in Markovia, toppling a monarchy of some kind, he was quick to suss out his true agenda (or one of them at least). The only member to know the truth about Arkham City, Strange was adamant he be put in charge, the only one he was sure he could trust. So long as the money didn't run out, which was never going to be an issue with the Court of Owls.
====Today====
*The fire basks them in an orange glow.*
Talia- Tea?
Miranda- Yes.
*She pours a stream of Chinese tea from the teapot, and they drink*
Talia- Your father was once a powerful man, and a friend of the League. He must be proud of you.
* "He is." she replies, not taking her eyes off the tea, sipping it slowly in case it's poisoned. Talia watches her curiously, it was ten years ago when they first drank tea together, and she had been just as suspicious then*
Talia- Good. I'm glad.
Miranda- Still with *your* dad, I presume?
*Talia stokes the flames with a wooden stick*
Talia I work with him, yes. But, I am here now, not as your enemy, but as an old friend, and as a sister, warning you. Turn back.
*Miranda rises*
Miranda- Yeah, no, I don't think so. Thanks for the tea. And, uh, knocking out Chancer for a bit.
Talia- Please. There is no safe space for your family. Ra's Al Ghul is a man of great resources, you know this. If The Demon's Head has decided that your family must be punished, that your husband must pay, you must understand that there is no place on earth where they can go where they can't reach them. But it is not too late for you. My father is still fond of you, if you would only-
Miranda- I'm not going back Talia. You should be the one joining *me.* Help us stop him, before he destroys Gotham, or whatever it is he's planning.
...
Talia- My father has sired hundreds of children, many of whom have perished in the name of his cause. In spite of his fondness for myself and for you, he will not hesitate to sacrifice either of us, if we were to stand in his way. He may be a man of honour, but even he has his limits. And he is tired of betrayal. Unfortunately for you, neither Hugo Strange nor The Court of Owls follow those same principles. Do you truly believe your husband has any hope in completing the Trials?
*Miranda had no intention of killing her. But in that moment, she was contemplating slapping her across the face*
Talia- I mean no disrespect, but he is not you, he is not my beloved, nor is he my father. You know that toys or not, he is but one man who's "training" has been conducted solely by arsonists and drug addicts in asylums and prisons, and when he challenges him, my father will draw his sword through his chest, and end him.
==San Francisco- Four Months Ago==
Alcatraz Island has changed a lot in the last year. The present home of the Suicide Squad, it has been completely renovated to accommodate the task force, and the scores of potential members and prisoners. One such inmate caught the attention of Senator Wade Eilling four years ago, when he fought the entire Justice League to a standstill. His real name may be purged from any computer database in the world, but his alias is well known by every government agency from Washington to Louisiana. Prometheus. He would become the second recruit of Task Force XI, much to the protests of Amanda Waller, who's warnings went unheeded. He didn't need to be a team player, Eilling thought, he didn't need to like the feds. He just needed to wear that helmet, and wear it well.
==========
*Those were Black Mask's men they'd past. Preparing for a siege of some kind. Armour, guns, makeshift tanks. Selina growled. Roman Sionis was far from a friend of hers, and she'd very much like to keep out of his territory*
Selina- Just where are we going?
Drury- The old GCPD precinct. About a hundred yards that way
Selina- The one you burnt down?
Drury- The one Gar- Yeah, that was us. We can set up a camp there, meet up with Miranda, and contact Chuck, Chuck Brown. He'll know what's going on.
Norbert- If he's alive.
Drury- Don't think like that Norbert.
*And yet, amidst the ruins and gunfire, it was hard for either of them not to rule it out. If only they knew all the Misfits had been through, and all which was still to come.*
==Brazil- Three Months Ago==
The Copperhead Gang was born out of poverty, living in the slums of Rio, quickly taking over the favellas and establishing a vicious syndicate of drugs, murder, and occasionally cannibalism. Only two ever left for the States, the most talented out of all of them. One, Larissa Diaz, specialised in poisons, and acrobatics, currently resides in Central City, as one of the city's biggest crime bosses. The other, a John Doe, a body contortionist, was deported to a Brazilian jail after Edward Nygma sent out an anonymous tip when a previous team-up saw him throttled one too many times. This Copperhead's skills are just as great as his unpredictability, but there was no doubt in Strange's mind he'd come in handy.
========
She brought him to an old warehouse, filled with C-Listers. A few glared at him. The Iceberg Shooting, and the ensuing hunt had hurt them badly. They didn't quite like Needham. He didn't blame them. But of course, they liked Penguin even less. Rigger offers a handshake, and Needham takes it, addressing the assembly.
Needham- None of you shoulda come here. You don't know what Penguin's capable of.
Rigger- We knew what we signed on for. Didn't we lads? We're getting you out of here, and we're doing it tonight.
*A pair of gloved hands clap, and from behind Zeiss emerges*
"Actually, I don't think you do. Penguin isn't the one you have to worry about. It's me"
Rigger- And who the hell are you, Mohawk Man?
*Dragonfly spits on the ground*
Meghan- Zeiss. His name is Zeiss.
He smirked. "My reputation precedes me. Let's make this interesting." He slicks back his hair, and he tosses his guns to the side, and empties his pocket. "Now we've leveled the playing level... Let's begin"
Ten was first. He ran at Zeiss with everything he had, but was thrown to the ground almost instantaneously. Rigger was next, firing blasts of Napalm from his gun, none landing their mark. He was grabbed from behind and pushed into the dirt. To add insult to injury, Zeiss jumped on his leg, snapping it in two. A perfect compound fracture. Dragonfly flew in furiously, trading blows, but he sweeped her off her feet, knocking off balance, leaving her vunerable enough for him to take her out next. Then came the Spiders. Eric Needham was done letting people get hurt because of him- he and Violet rushed Zeiss, and for a while it looked like they might just beat him. Then he pinned Needham's arm behind his back, and dislocated it. Then he did it again with the other arm. Distracted, and rushing to Needham's aid, Silken Spider was the last to fall.
Zeiss- What a disappointment. Oh we-
A squirt of ketchup covers his face. And he snarls. "Almost forgot about you." Mitchel Mayo, bottle in hand stands defia- he stands. "I... I should've used the peanut oil." Zeiss nods mockingly. "Well, it'd be a shame to break up the set."
==Manchester- Two Months Ago==
And lastly, the wildcard. Ever since he was a boy Abner Krill had an obsession with the round, the dotted and the circular. Some blamed it on autism, others claimed it was a form of OCD. But, whatever the case, as he drank from a perfectly round coconut, atop a bar stool in the middle of his living room, one thing was certain- it was one hell of a quirk, and manifested itself in nearly aspect of his life. His latest in a long line of girlfriends was a Geordie called Dot.
With a gimmick like his, many wrote him off as a C-Lister. He let them believe that, kept the attention away from him. If they took a second to think about exactly how much power he has, he'd never get a moment's peace from the idiots wanting to have a go with his tech. He turns to his visitors, a bald man with a pair of dark glasses and a beard that couldn't possibly be real and his equally bald colleague with a spruce moustache, and reached into his pocket.
"Skittle?"
"No," Strange replies. Abner shrugs, and pours the whole packet into his mouth, washing it down with some more coconut milk straight from the source
"Sorry about that, was a bit peckish. So what's this job anyhow?"
==========
Len- Chuck.
Chuck- Len.
Len- You look like shit.
*"You don't. Soda please" he replies faintly. Len nods, and fills the glass with something that's definitely not cola.*
Chuck- You shouldn't be here. Bartending. Not here.
Len- Neither should you. Needham escapes, you were the last one to see him... If I can connect the dots, then so can-
Chuck- I can't explain it, not now, not-
"Well, you better explain it. Fast."
Sionis- Where's my Spider, Charlie?
==Arkham City- Four Days Ago==
"I want in."
Strange turned to the bearded, shaggy haired imbecile behind the glass. He'd stop scratching the walls. That was some progress, though they'd still spot him pacing about on all fours every now and again. They'd caught him nine months prior, when he'd broken into Julian Day's cell with a kitchen knife, and he had been hissing at the guards ever since. Strange, the file said he had brown eyes, but it was green ones staring at him now.
Strange- Absolutely not.
"I'm a wild animal Doc. Need to feel the wind on my face, need to kiss a girl or two. Need a cell that's not two meters big!"
Strange- And how can you assure me you won't simply kill me or Mr Day?
"Can't. But you're a shrink. Admit it, you're curious"
Strange- Very well Thomas. I will see what I can do.
He kicked his lips. Then spat out a hairball.
"What?"
“In the morning I bathe my intellect in the stupendous and cosmogonal philosophy of the Bhagavad Gita in comparison with which our modern world and its literature seems puny.”
(Henry David Thoreau - American Poet and Philosopher, 1817-1862)
This man was having a ritual bath in the holy waters of the Ganges at Munshi ghat in Varanasi (Benaras).
Maybe his mind was then connected to the study of the origin and development of the universe mentioned by Henry David Thoreau...
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History
The John Rogers who bought Riverhill in 1840 was an only child, with a modest fortune, and a fine intellect. He became a classics scholar, a scientist and a friend of Charles Darwin. He was one of the first members of the Royal Horticultural Society and a patron of the plant collectors of the day.
He chose Riverhill because its sheltered situation offered an ideal lime free hillside where he could hope to establish newly introduced trees and shrubs. From his garden notebook, it can be seen that planting started in 1842. Subsequent generations, continued the planting and in 1910 Colonel John Middleton Rogers created what is now known as ‘The Wood Garden’ a fine collection of Japanese Maples, Rhododendrons and Azaleas. His wife, the infamous Muriel, created many additions including the now hidden Rock Gardens.
Until the beginning of the 2nd World War, eight full time gardeners kept Riverhill looking immaculate. Since the war years, however, a shortage of manpower and a lack of money has meant that the garden was allowed to deteriorate, with many parts of the original planting lost to everyday use and visitors.
Today, four generations of the Rogers family live at Riverhill,
The estate is managed by Edward Rogers (Great-great-great-grandson of the John Rogers who bought Riverhill in 1840) and his wife, Sarah.
Dedicated to Tuvok
Security Chief – Spaceship Voyager – TV Series “Stark Trek”
To me he represents the energy of Logos, Apollo, Intellect, Rationalism I call A5.
HKD
Ansichtssache
Thema Nr. 9
Was sind meine Ansichten über den Intellekt? – A5
Wissen – Bewusstsein – Spiritualität – Religion
Für mich ist der Intellekt die Fähigkeit des Erkennens und der Differenzierung. Über ihn habe ich gelernt, mir selbst Rechenschaft über meine emotionale und schließlich geistige Befindlichkeit abgeben zu können.
Wer bin ich? Woher komme ich? Wo stehe ich? Welche Richtung schlage ich in meinem Leben ein?
Die Fragen selbst formulieren sich mit Hilfe des Intellekts und die Antworten sind das Ergebnis einer ausgiebigen Expansion des philosophischen und psychologischen Wissens.
Durch die Funktion des Intellekts wird die Emotionalität als solche und ihre Färbungen erkannt. Zweifellos drücken auch Tiere Emotionen aus, doch der mit seinem Schwanz wedelnde Hund besitzt nur den körperlichen Ausdruck seiner Freude.
Als kleines Kind lag die Motivation zur Ausbildung von Sprache und Wissen in mir verborgen und diese Sehnsucht nach Licht und Erkennen, das Streben nach „Gott“ und schließlich die Rückanbindung an „Ihn“ (religio = Rückanbindung) entwickelte sich aus ein und derselben Motivationskraft, nämlich der innerpsychischen Funktion des Intellekts, der für mich zur Grundkraft des Logos gehört.
Logos, Intellekt, Ratio… Ich verwende diese Begriffe häufig analog, manchmal differenziere ich sie noch untereinander, doch fasse ich sie in meinem Konzept unter der Bezeichnung Motivationskraft A5 zusammen.
Ich habe dieser Kraft in meinem Leben den Umstand meiner relativen Freiheit von der Ignoranz zu verdanken.
Durch Erkenntnis der Notwendigkeit der Vereinigung der Gegensätze von Logos und Eros, öffnete ich mich auch für die Hinwendung zur konkreten Erfahrung des Geistes und seiner Aspekte.
Der Logos führte mich zu Schamanen im Himalaya nachdem ich in Kathmandu (Nepal) zuvor die Stupa von Bodnath (buddhistisches Heiligtum) besucht und dort meine geistigen und intellektuellen Wurzeln geehrt habe.
Neben Ägypten liegt die andere Hochburg antiker geistiger Hochkulturen in Nordindien und dem heutigen Pakistan. Der philosophische und psychologische Buddhismus, den ich so nenne, um ihn respektvoll von der Volksreligion und ihren Regeln zu unterscheiden, gehört für mich zu den höchsten Erkenntnissen über die Aspekte des Geistes. Natürlich speist sich auch der Buddhismus aus noch älteren Quellen der Weisheit, ich möchte nur die indische „Advaita“ Tradition nennen.
Der Philosoph und Mystiker Ramesh Balsekar ist ein neuzeitlicher Vertreter dieser Weisheit. Seinen logisch präzisen Aussagen und nachvollziehbaren Schlussfolgerungen habe ich viele Erkenntnisse zu verdanken unter anderem die Auflösung der Restbestände meines christlichen Schuldbewusstseins.
Erkenntnis ist befreiend. Das Licht übte auf mich stets eine magische Anziehungskraft aus. Doch ich bin kein Lichtarbeiter. Ich kann meine emotionalen Wurzeln nicht leugnen, meine dunklen menschlichen Aspekte wie Neid, Eifersucht, Antipathie, Angst und Gier.
Natürlich ist meine ethische und gute Seite nicht erfreut über diese unbequemen Emotionen, doch werden sie vom Intellekt anerkannt und nicht verurteilt. Hagel, Sturm und Winter sind, was sie sind. Ich bin ein logisch orientierter Vertreter der Mitte, des mittleren Pfades und in so fern bringe ich das Licht des Herzens.
Der Weg zurück ins Herz, in dem Himmel und Erde, irdische Lust und geistige Klarheit vereint werden können, war für mich der logisch richtige Schritt. Logos und Eros sind antagonistische Pole – aus der Perspektive der Einheit in ihrer stärksten Ausprägung jeweilige Extreme. Daher erschien es mir unmöglich, ein nur geistiges Leben zu führen, wie es stark von A5 motivierte Menschen wollen und können.
Wer aus den Star-Trek-Serien Mr. Spok oder Tuvok kennt, hat Abbilder vor Augen, die ganz hervorragend auf „Menschen“ passen, die extrem von der Logik beherrscht werden. Aus der Sicht der Mitte, wird ein Mensch tatsächlich von einer Motivationskraft beherrscht. Sie macht mit ihm, was sie will und er kann sich nicht beherrschen, ob bei Schokolade, Sex oder geistiger Bildung.
Ohne die Motivationskraft die dem Logos, dem Intellekt oder der Ratio entspringt wäre mir Selbsterkenntnis nicht möglich. Ich danke den Gottheiten Apollon, Manjushri und allen anderen Göttern des Lichtes, die mir mit ihrer Einsichtsfähigkeit den Weg zurück ins Herz ebneten.
Im Licht ihrer Sonne vereinen sich Selbstliebe und Selbsthass zum Abenteuer Leben.
HKD
Digital Art – own resources
HKD
The lighting of the Deepam signifies its presence to the Deities. It is worth remembering the lighting of the Deepam represents knowledge. This also free us from darkness.
'Deepajoyothi Parabrahma Deeepajoythi Janardhana, Deepo me hara tu paapma Deepa Jyohtir Namostute
'I salute the One who is the lamplight that brings auspiciousness;prosperity,
good health and the destruction of the intellects enemy'.
Well the Olympics are long gone but Tower Bridge is (thankfully) still standing. I took these pics right before the rings came down, was nice to dust off the camera and start snapping again. I've been out of action for a while and I apologize for the photostream being stale for so long.
I also wrote a brief update on Postcard Intellect if you want to learn more about these photos.
An organic entity found wounded and close to death, the BR4-1N was grafted into a spaceship to ensure her survival. She now serves as part of the fleet using her superior intellect to strategise attack patterns before relaying them to the other fighters.
This is the 3rd ship in my fleet of Neo Classic Space inspired attack craft.
Several years ago I created a group for women called WIIPS (Women of Intellect, Influence, Power & Strength) I believe a woman can be a most delicate, refined and elegant creature but beneath that demure facade lies a fierce warrior....Mari
Breaking Benjamin - Blow Me Away (Good Song)
www.youtube.com/watch?v=pTjnhS96Nyo
Bonnie Tyler-I Need A Hero
www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBwS66EBUcY
Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods ?
Where's the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds ?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed ?
Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need
I need a hero, I'm holding out for at hero 'till the end of the night
He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'till the morning light
He's gotta be sure and it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life, larger than life
Doo doo doo doooo, doo doo doo doooo, doo doo doo doooo
Aaahhh, aaahhh
Somewhere after midnight, in my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
There's someone reaching back for me
Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat
It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet
I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'till the end of the night
He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'till the morning light
He's gotta be sure and it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life
I need a hero, I'm holding out for at hero 'till the the end of the night
Up where the mountains meet the heavens above
Out where the lightning splits the sea
I could swear there is someone somewhere, watching me
Through the wind and the chill and the rain and the storm and the flood
I can feel his approach, like a fire in my blood
I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'till the end of the night
He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'till the morning light
He's gotta be sure and it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life
I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'till the end of the night
He's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'till the morning light
He's gotta be sure and he's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life
I need a hero, I'm holding out for a hero 'till the end of the night
"The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves."
~ Carl Jung
An organic entity found wounded and close to death, the BR4-1N was grafted into a spaceship to ensure her survival. She now serves as part of the fleet using her superior intellect to strategise attack patterns before relaying them to the other fighters.
This is the 3rd ship in my fleet of Neo Classic Space inspired attack craft.
It would be a lie to say Belle Reve Penitentiary had seen worse days. Even in times of riot, attack by supervillains, and the occasional inspection by the IRS, Belle Reve had stood strong, and retained an air of cold defiance in the face of adversity.
But Belle Reve had never seen anything like this. Thick, twisted kudzu gripped its fingers around every surface that unrecognizable fungi did not grow. Brilliant flowers twisted into themselves, each petal pronged and barbed. There was not a surface of the facility that was not covered in foliage
And absolutely none of it was natural.
A green flash vomits the Squad violently to the border of the verdant invasion, a good seven hundred feet from the Belle Reve doors.
Boomerang: Strewth, what a landing.
Deadshot: Bend, what the hell?
Angelo Bend, baffled, shakes his device with a ferocity, hitting any button, hoping for any results.
Angle-Man: I . . . The device won’t work, I dunno! Look, Every time I try and use it, it shorts out.
Sonar: Perhaps your inferior intellect has finally broken it.
Deadshot: Don’t start, Wladon. Bend, you’ve gotta have a damn good reason for this.
Angle-Man: I don’t know! I tell you, I don’t know! Maybe it really has just shorted out finally!
Armageddon: Uh, ‘scuse me for talkin’ out of turn here, but uh, that Exclamation fellah mentioned any tech they send in they lose communications with. Maybe this is the same kinda thing?
Sonar thinks for a minute, then attempts one of his sound blasts. All he succeeds in is blowing one of his own fingertips off.
Sonar: AAAHH, Aaahh, Sweet lord, what has brought this upon me?!
Boomerang: I’d say y’own inferior intellect, eh?
Deadshot: So the both of you are dead weight, got it.
He rips off a shred of Sonar’s cape and wraps it around his half a finger.
Deadshot: Just as well, if Flag and Co. never came out, there’s nothing saying we will either. May as well have a few guaranteed survivors.
At their feet, there’s a noticeable difference in the grass. At the border of where the surreal foliage stops, the grass is longer, coarser, and a deeper shade of green. None of them notice however. None but Mike Aparo, plucking a single blade and inspecting it closely. He hisses in his mask, and tears the blade in half.
Deadshot: Alright, Harkness, Conway, Aparo, you’re with me. Aparo?
Boomerang: Looks like he’s scarpered, mate.
And indeed, a trail of footprints imbedded in the soft grass, the size and shape of Mike Aparo’s boots, leads steadily into the greenery.
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The sound of birdsong is a sound entirely out of place in Belle Reve, and yet, the sing-song twittering of birds unknown came from the rafters far overhead. The architecture appears to have shifted slightly, but it was impossible to tell in that strangling, suffocating foliage. Vines snaked their way through old windows, up cell bars and darted in and broke down doors.
Bodies lay strewn about in violent, and impossible positions. One corpse is practically reduced to a skeleton, a vine jammed through his hip-bone, crawling through his ribcage and ripping through his skull. There’s a broken, frail pair of glasses next to him.
Captain Boomerang’s eye is caught by a glint below his feet. He bends down to inspect it, and stands again with a pair of dog tags in his fingers.
“Doc Evans,” He reports, quietly.
The other two stop and turn around slowly.
“He one of the Task Force fellas?” Asks Armageddon. There’s a hint of anxiety in his drawl.
“Yeah,” replies Deadshot, “the brainiest one. Doesn’t bode well.” Despite the birdsong, there’s a stillness to the air. It makes him uncomfortable. He shifts on his feet, and wishes for a rifle.
Boomerang flips the tags through his fingers absently and says “Y’notice he’s nothin’ but bones? I may not be a genius cobber, but even I know y’can’t melt down to ya clackers in only a matter of hours.”
After a minute, Deadshot replies, “You’re not wrong, but that’s not the issue at hand.”
Then it hits them, the faint smell of chemicals. “Sirs,” Armageddon pipes up again, “I think I found the trail of our Mister Orange.”
Slashed like a gaping wound through the foliage, a sizzling, chemical burned trail snakes out in front of them. Following it, carefully stepping over thick roots and passing spiny plants, eventually they come across Agent Orange, wildly spraying some corrosive chemical over everything around him. He cackles gleefully as he arcs poison in all directions.
“Oh the glorious, delicious scent of pesticide!” He cries.
Deadshot shouts his name, and hurries up to him, careful not to get any of the sizzling fluid on himself. He wraps his hands around Agent Orange’s collar
“Breathe deeply,” says Aparo, “Inhhaallle all the flavorrrrr.”
“This isn’t a goddamn vacation,” Deadshot hisses acidly, “You stick to the mission, you follow my lead, you defoliate what I point at. Understood?”
Agent Orange giggles and nods, but says nothing of intelligence. Deadshot lets him go, and orders Armageddon to the front. Armageddon and his Axe. He swings mightily and chops heavily, carving through the undergrowth like so much butter.
“So eh, have we got a cardinal in mind eh?” Asks Boomerang, swatting away at an insect species that never existed before today.
“Come again?” says Deadshot, flatly.
“A direction, mate. Otherwise we’ll just wander around this bloody jungle ‘till we too are moldy bones.”
“I say we get to the monitor room,” Says Deadshot after a minute. “At the very least, maybe we can salvage some footage from last night, maybe find out what went wrong.”
“Do we actually plan on extracting the other team, sir?” Huffs Armageddon, his arms slowly growing weary.
“If we come across ‘em,” Deadshot replies, his scope training on a passing bird, “If not, we know what happened to at least one of ‘em.”
In the distance, comes a rattling wheeze that quickly descends into a dismal, low moan. Steadily, it grows, and grows, exploding into a crescendo of wailing, mournful, ear-splitting noise. A wicked, teeth-shattering bawl. The Squad all drop and ready their weapons, whirling their heads in every direction, but nothing comes.
The moaning stops.
“What the hell was that?!” Shouts Boomerang.
“Doesn’t matter,” Deadshot manages to spit out. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just keep moving.”
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In the mess hall, the first signs of violence made themselves truly apparent. Frozen bodies, petrified with lichens and rigor mortis, lay strewn everywhere. One prisoner’s remains grew into one of the long tables, bisected in half by it’s surface. One duo died locked in combat, scratching and biting at each other’s throats. Another still, had stabbed forks into his own hands, and remained seated upright, long after death. Dozens of bodies rested in this way. And all of them were covered in mushrooms.
Boomerang makes the effort to wrap his scarf around the lower part of his face, thankful that the accessory finally had a use except as a handle for The Flash to grab him by. Silently, grimly, the four pass through the mess hall, and down into the nearest corridor.
The corridor, they realize, leads to the guardrooms. This did not use to be the case. The staircase, once straightforward and short, winds down and down, plunging into the earth, winding in spirals. The walls, soft and slimy to the touch, seemed to heave lightly, as if breathing on their own. As if alive. Tiny, incandescent plants lined the walls, and provided low light in the descent.
The Guardroom, when they reached it, seemed surprisingly unchanged, save for a thick layer of dust over everything, ashen and gray.
“Alright,” Says Boomerang, “We need ta take bloody stock.”
“Meaning?” Replies Deadshot.
“I don’t understand,” Says Armageddon shakily, “I ain’t been here long, but I don’t remember any of this place bein like this.” He buries his face in his hands, muttering something about “them walls, them walls . . . “
“Meaning,” says Boomerang, “meaning that th’rookie’s right. The stairs didn’t used to go in bloody circles. And what happened to all those poor blokes up there, eh? What drove em to mad killin’? Why’s this room been mostly untouched. What the hell is going on in here?”
Agent Orange fiddles with his gun, muttering about green.
Deadshot looks to each of the squaddies. He senses the growing restlessness. As calm as he possibly can, he says,
“I can’t pretend I know. But if we can find the monitor room, maybe we can figure it out.”
“Yeah,” says Boomerang after a minute, “yeah, fair enough.”
Then, there’s a humming. A buzzing. At first, like a cloud of bees, then like a swirl of dissonant voices, coming from the stairs behind them. It grows louder, slowly, but steadily. It grows closer just as fast. A warm, gold light begins to slowly trickle in ahead of it.
“Run.” Whispers Deadshot.
Boomerang, Armageddon, and Agent Orange all bolt out the door to the rear that didn’t exist until today. Deadshot takes a deep breath as the sputtering voices grow louder. For a second, he considers facing it. For a second, he considers fighting. Then, on the wall, a small, framed picture of a girl, almost entirely obscured by dust, catches his eye. He picks it up, dusts it off, places it on his belt, and sprints off after the others.