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The contradiction so puzzling to the ordinary way of thinking, comes from the fact that we have to use language to communicate our inner experience which in its very nature transcends linguistics.

D.T. Suzuki, Mysticism: Christian and Buddhist (via inthenoosphere)

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“In the beginning was the Word and the Word was God

by  Saṃsāran

Generations of Christians have read this text and had no idea what the phrase; “the word” meant. John is the most Gnostic of the Gospels written in beautiful Greek and containing many deep and philosophical concepts which is why it is often a favorite Gospel among intellectuals. The “Word” is an English translation “logos” (λόγος) which means “word” but also plan or even force". This is an idea which originated with the Stoics of ancient Greece.

I am a Buddhist and a Pantheist. This means that I do not believe in a creator God but neither do I believe in a random meaningless universe. There is order and direction to the universe which does not come from a being existing outside of time and space but it is intrinsic, immanent to the universe. It can be described as the Oversoul, the Paramatman, the “pool of consciousness” or even just the “self-aware universe”.

Now, this is the point in the discussion where the Materialists will scoff and argue that we are merely doing what the ancients did and making a God of the universe. This is not so. The universe simply is and, with respect to living beings, has a clear “purpose” or in Greek telos (τέλος). To deny this is to deny the nose on ones face. You can deny it but you will still sneeze when I tickle your nose with a feather.

There is order amongst the chaos. This is the logos.

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Hey Sam, could you please tell me what is wisdom and how I can acquire it? I don’t even know how to identify it in others:

Wisdom = intelligence + life experience  x enlightened self-awareness.

Not every intelligent elderly human being is wise. No, there is another requirement. Some degree of enlightened self-awareness must also be present.

Thus an elderly grandmother, who may not be very intelligent at all in an academic sense but who in her long life has learned compassion, the value of kindness and giving will grow in wisdom while a black-hearted businessman who has never been held accountable for his petty cruelties will reach his final years lacking wisdom despite great age and experience.

Wisdom will be intelligence tempered with kindness.

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You’ll understand that everything did when you look back.

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The Friends of my Friends

You can support my writing at no cost by reading it here

It's 2 a.m in Bairro Alto. Cobbled streets teem with life as students, ex-pats, locals, and tourists mingle. The fact that we may never meet again after tonight does not dampen this evening.

The air rattles with laughter. Language barriers topple. I watch Nuno fervently pour another pint of Sagres, pairing it with an unexpectedly refreshing shooter of vodka, amarguinha (almond liqueur), and a drop of lemon juice.

A group of 20-somethings huddle around him. Nuno rings a bell tied to the end of the beer tap: "chin-chin?" The crowd replies, "chon-chon!"

His song ends, and we drink. Lisbon feels like Bacchus' summer home.

I walk outside and start a conversation with a Bolivian man about the sociology of drug legalization. Then, a glimpse in my periphery steals my attention. I pivot, coming face-to-face with Anita: a young woman I once worked with back in Toronto, Canada. Our eyes widen, and our jaws drop as we recognize each other through the crowd. "What the fuck!" we belt, double-taking to make sure we're not hallucinating.

We haven't seen each other in nearly two years. While we were never the closest of work friends, we'd bond over the occasional quip at the expense of a garishly dressed customer. And here we are – in the same foreign country, on the same Friday night, standing outside the same bar.

We catch up. Anita mentions her flight to Paris the following morning before introducing me to her Brazilian hostel-mate, an honorary local, and my next liaison: Livia. The night peters out. I make plans with Livia over shawarma (fun fact: Portuguese shawarma is tastier than the Israeli counterpart – who would guess). A smile creeps across my face as I walk to my hostel. I fill my lungs with the balmy June air and imagine every possible tomorrow.

The following day starts like every other, with an obligatory pastel de nata. The tart's creamy, flaky, sweetness balances a dark, full-bodied espresso. I'm a man of many vices, but those edible palm-sized delights bring more satisfaction than the next dozen on my list. I digress.

After breakfast, I walk to Praça do Comércio, which is outfitted with an astroturf field and movie-theatre-sized screen to broadcast the 2018 FIFA World Cup. I find Livia sitting outside a coffee shop, surrounded by the people I was about to meet. She introduces me to Sol and Maria. I get the sense that these are enlightened humans, free from the burdens of other-imposed expectations.

Sol is olive-skinned, and his name translates literally to "Sun." The 5-foot-6 firecracker has a head of thick, black hair. Warm, honey-coloured eyes adorn his prominent brow, and last week's 5 o'clock shadow frames his elongated face. His early thirty's jawline is toned by years of singing and dancing. He's not a performer, but being born gay to an orthodox Catholic family gave occasion to practice his presentation. Sol walks with a humble, confident tenacity and speaks to understand. We bond over a shared passion for dancing aggressively to loud music.

Maria is Sol's counterpart. Ash brown, sun-kissed, chest-length hair drapes over her round face, slender frame, and dark, walnut skin. Her inviting hazel eyes shine with the excited glimmer of youth, though she speaks with the resolute voice of maturity. Her head, balanced on an elegant neck, conveys an inner calm – an insightful dignity, free from pretension. Maria likes to surf.

I spend the next two weeks acquainting myself with the trio. I piece together their backstories, wholly unaware of how quickly and deeply I would bond to those soulful individuals. They become my locals, and I, their tourist.

At 3 a.m. one evening, the local nightclub, Lux, becomes the topic of conversation. We enter, go down a flight of stairs, past soundproof windows, and into a dark room, filled with sound, and lit by lasers that skitter along the walls. We join the sea of bobbing, bouncing people. Raving ensues.

I lose track of time and escape to the balcony in search of air. At the top of the staircase, I look left and spot my extended family already outside, arms folded over the railing, watching a yellow sunrise over the Tagus River.

They don't notice me as I approach, continuing their Portuguese conversation. While I don't know the meaning of their words, I wholeheartedly understand what they say. Sol dances lazily and out of rhythm to the thump of the bassline. Maria wants breakfast.

I smile and reflect back on the twists of fate that lead me to here and now.

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Ugo Adriano Graziotti - The Thirteen Duals of the Semi-Regular Archimedean Polyhedra, “Polyhedra:The Realm of Geometric Beauty”, 1962. In Space, every Figure having Height, Width and Depth, and formed of Planes, Lines and Points, has associated with it another Figure composed of Planes, Lines and Points - its so-called Dual Configuration. In this association lies a far reaching Principle of Mathematics - the Principle of Duality. Each of the Points of the first Body is Transformed into a Plane of the second Body, and a Plane is Transformed into a Point. The new Body thus formed is called the Dual of the first. PLATE 1: Solid Triakis Tetrahedron PLATE 2: Solid Triakis Octahedron PLATE 3: Solid Tetrakis Hexahedron PLATE 4: Solid Triakis Icosahedron PLATE 5: Solid Trapezoidal Icositetrahedron PLATE 6: Solid Rhombic Dodecahedron PLATE 7: Solid Rhombic Triacontahedron PLATE 8: Solid Hexakis Octahedron PLATE 9: Solid Pentakis Dodecahedron PLATE 10: Solid Trapezoidal Hexecontahedron PLATE 11: Solid Hexakis Icosahedron PLATE 12: Solid Pentagonal Icositetrahedron PLATE 13: Solid Pentagonal Hexecontrahedron

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by Eric Barker for theladders.com

Over 1000 years ago Buddhism — where mindfulness techniques come from — said that there is no singular “you.” The “self” does not exist. Sound like crazy nonsense? I’m with you. (All 27 of you, actually.) But here’s the thing…

Both neuroscience and psychology are starting to agree. Sometimes you don’t act like you because there is no singular “you.

There is no “you.” 

…our models of human behavior need to be rethought. Perhaps there is no such thing as a fully integrated human being. We may, in fact, be an agglomeration of multiple selves.

– Dan Ariely Ph.D., Professor of Psychology, Duke University

What we’re talking about is the cutting edge theory of the “modular mind”. (Okay, it’s old news to Buddhist monks but cutting edge to the rest of us.)

The human brain wasn’t built top to bottom as a single project like Apple builds a computer. It evolved over millions of years in a very messy fashion. Various systems (or “modules”) came about to drive you to accomplish different tasks like seeking food, fighting, reproduction, etc. But here’s the problem…

They were never integrated. So these systems compete to steer the ship that is your brain. Your mind is less like a single computer operating system and more like a collection of smartphone apps where only one can be open and running at a time.

Here’s noted science author Robert Wright:

“… your mind is composed of lots of specialized modules—modules for sizing up situations and reacting to them—and it’s the interplay among these modules that shapes your behavior. “… the mind was built bit by bit, chunk by chunk, and as our species encountered new challenges, new chunks would have been added.”

(excerpt please click title link for more)

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HUMANS!!!! I think I’ve pieced together why the world became such a shit show.

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I made a content! The first half of the poem was written several years ago. It sat idly by... until now.

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Some words to use when writing things:

winking

clenching

pulsing

fluttering

contracting

twitching

sucking

quivering

pulsating

throbbing

beating

thumping

thudding

pounding

humming

palpitate

vibrate

grinding

crushing

hammering

lashing

knocking

driving

thrusting

pushing

force

injecting

filling

dilate

stretching

lingering

expanding

bouncing

reaming

elongate

enlarge

unfolding

yielding

sternly

firmly

tightly 

harshly

thoroughly

consistently

precision

accuracy

carefully

demanding

strictly

restriction

meticulously

scrupulously

rigorously

rim

edge

lip

circle

band

encircling

enclosing

surrounding

piercing

curl

lock

twist

coil

spiral

whorl

dip

wet

soak

madly

wildly

noisily

rowdily

rambunctiously

decadent

degenerate

immoral

indulgent

accept

take

invite

nook

indentation

niche

depression

indent

depress

delay

tossing

writhing

flailing

squirming

rolling

wriggling

wiggling

thrashing

struggling

grappling

striving

straining

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“At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us.”

— Albert Schweitzer (via macrolit)

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Evolution of the Alphabet: Nearly 3,800 Years of Letters Explored Through a Color-Coded Flowchart