Alexander K. Rai, MSMA

Posts Tagged ‘alexander k. rai’

The Past is Beneath “Criticism” ; The ‘Optimal Future’ is a Function of Probability, and a Fortune of a Sincere Continuuity arising from Purer Premises of the Moment.

In Uncategorized on September 1, 2009 at 9:08 am

90028404_dec857bcb8_b

Man’s relationship with time is in the most literary sense of the term : ‘Skin Deep’.

For Time, wrinkles up, it seems on the body of Man, a reducing force, a keeper of accounts, a gushing, senseless, voice, capable of unconditionally impressing on the Skin of Man the irrevocable function of his experiences : Decay.

But what Is Time? What Is Man? And what is Superficial, and What is Not ? The statements above risk sounding foolish and appear as indictments, if these Vital Premises are not exposed of their conjurations. To Do So necessitates a Study of Relationships, rather than an examination in parts. How they relate and feel and form, rather than how they are divided from one another. More the Appreciation, and the less the mechanics ensures and insures a more Sublime and indeed, Complete Understanding – much as an analyses of cones and heights and cylinders, have never contributed on those mere grounds – to a Musician’s capacity to play the Organ better than he would not knowing its configured — one might say — ‘Superficial’ —  intricacies.

The reason the premise of “Man versus Time” is in a holistic and observable sense, insofar as it is an ‘Objective Phenomena’, is technically superficial is on account of the fact, nothing literally or otherwise, – could be more profound to Man, than Man’s Relationship With Himself.

109322074_7294fa63ef_o

Just as the Less is not More, Man is not the Time he Spends. That Statement does not require an added study of ‘Expenditures and Balance Sheets’ to be any more Qualified than they appear in that Self-Evident Form above in the allegory. In fact, to present it in any other way would be a Nuisance to the Reader and an insult to his Consciousness.

But is the term ‘Superficial’ an Insult?

When Man relates beyond the Skin, and beyond “prophesies” of appearances, and brush strokes of “modern” Art, – he is electing to leapfrog his rudimentary and standard functions, if only by beginning to not take those “mere” functions for Granted.

Gratitude proves to be a Science to a Man who is capable and powerful enough to be a witness to the relationship he shares with himself. The deeper he enters into his own orifices of his Self-Notion, nothing seems trivial, accidental, or Decadent. That is as much a Fact, as it is a fact, Global Banking has reticulated into utter Fraudulence, and Religion has dealt more degradation, damage, and ruin on Man ( Including the “Religion of Freethinkers” ) – than the Silent and Observable Natural and Quantum Forces as are easily afforded to those that Listen Better and more Wholly than they Speak. Not an Easy Task.

109322075_d6087935cf_o

Is the experience of Ease then related to the differentiation of the Superficial and the Profound?

It is Not Easy to Unite with One’s own Self. Yet, it is not Difficult to Desire It when clearly, it is an experience capable of unconditionally impressing on the Spirit/Substance of Man, rather than Skin, - the irrevocable function of his Eternal Form – the very ‘Idea of Man’ being that form – inseparable from what He Is at the paramount moment. Therein, no Decay, but a Great, unsullied, and transcendental propensity is discoverable, notable, and construable – and the Author would hypothesize, can even be granted Construction in the ‘Grand Scheme of Things’.

How then are Ease and Difficulty Differentiated, if they are both expressions of the Mind?


234321850_5448d02566_b


The Superficial Man – One who dwells on the Skin, however, blames. In Christian allegory, he is like the Character Job : Given to him are purely arbitrary passions of an argument – and each passion, its own Principle, and its own Will. If he should dwell on the Skin, he finds blemishes, sores, holes – the whole tapestry of physical pain and afflictions are transcribed on his premises.  This is what he draws out and regards as the “Whole Past” – never mind, that had he not the surface of skin, as he has in Time the assistance of the surface of that Tool ‘Memory’, which alone empowers the Seeker to ask whichsoever inquiry that bodes and bears in his curiosity;  how come would he have Gained the Profound Opportunity of Criticism?

83033852_da591037a5_o

The Superficial Man continues to confuse Means with Ends at no great advantage! Regarding “The Flaws of Histories”, – Castigating and dispatching his dubious “Venom” to the Seeds of Past, ‘As If’ it Still Applies, he empowers that which he criticizes- namely his own Actual Decay/Decadence, – failing to apprehend with either his Soul or his Intellect – that the premises of ‘Past’, ‘Present’ and ‘Future’ are cursory habits of Consciousness – nuanced particles of Man’s own Capacity to Be, or to Become.

455333825_ebad1f6c76_b

The Man who freely Wills a Vision, regardless of mere habits and costumes, while liberally interpreting the Useful aspects Truthfully from the ‘Past’, gives notable credence to a Present and Gratitude to those that strived afore him, and enters into his own futurized Vehicle and transmits himself therein through the Same. Indeed, Time as a function of the Conscious Mind is it not – much like Skin – a Vehicle? A ‘Foe-Friend’ – in the sense, it may appear a combustible vehicle, requiring maintenance, attention, — A Source of Energy, ultimately, that could be termed But the ‘Soul’ or to those of the least metaphysical “bent” – the ‘Prime Substance’. The Question of Existence rests on that Will – that Energetic Animus that supplies the Q     uest. To ameliorate the conditions within one’s own Person and the conditions and circumstances of all others go hand in hand, undistinguished, for one’s own Person Chooses It. And to enliven the Quest, one must summon Will and Vivacity – as Such.

Difficulty is the highest Ease, and the Highest Ease is always Difficult!

( Therein ) The Profound Man – One who dwells on Substance, and shuns hypocrisy and vagaries of illogic, un-reason, and tiresome ineptitude, and even avoids the accumulated lives of the illogic, un-reason, ineptitudes, torpitudes of others more Superificial than He, — Avoids all principles that detract from Candidness, and Dwells on the conditions and Premises of his highest Substantive Self – and in this regard, initiating himself through his 1) Mind – Reason  2 ) Body – Passions    3 ) Soul – Prime Substance , such that the Unity created by the Three are Greater than even the Whole. And in that there is contained – the Grammar – the Principle – the Mysteries of Man.

IMG_0359

In the Year Two Thousand and Nine, as pronounced by the Christian Logbook and interpretation of Time, – it appears, there is a great deal of chaos, suffrage, blame, and anger arising out of Man. Everyone is at Blame, but not He. Every Foreign Element to his Consciousness is depraved and not He. The Justice is Unjust, but he presumes he is himself Just in stating that Concept.

But the Angry Man, the Chaotic, and the Irascible. Who is that Man? Is he a Superficial Man? Or is he Man Profound? Moreover, if he is a Superficial Man, will he learn Gratitude, so that his depth may increase towards himself, and so that he comes closer in proximity to the Man Profound? And per the Man Profound, in reaching the higher orifices of his awareness – Will he find it Satisfactory to be overwhelmed by the deplorable “Noise” – the noisy and pitiful vagaries of the Superficial Man, whom he cannot escape within or outside himself, so long as the Man Profound is Obliged to admit to his Humanity, which he Must at all times, unless he departs from its premise, – What of him? Perhaps, it is Love?

Is there an allegorical inflection that is perceptible? ‘Lion and Sheep drinking from the same Pond’ is a beautiful phrase – one that easily comes to the author’s mind when he raises up his eyes to the stars, probing for nebulous Relevance to Clarify itself. Is that not which some call ‘Kingdom of Heaven on Earth’ — That is a Space of such Profound Mutual Understanding and Investment, that it mutually assures Evolution, rather than “Cold War like Mutually Assured Destruction”?

An Investment that leaves both parties Wealthier than they were before and Conscious of the Fact, – if they prove Inevitable in their Reason, their Passions guided by Substance, and their Substance guided by the Whole than is greater than the Sum of the Parts?

The Whole may just be what is contained in the word ‘Love’.

3875860170_8076cb8efb_b

“Amor Omnia Vincit”- as a Spanish friend of mine has been invoking of late with a Steady frequency. Meaning, ‘Love Conquers All’.

Going beyond Superficialities, and giving a Living Flame to Profundity, will be tantamount to transcribe the Equinoxes and Solstices of what is meant by that one word.

Love.

. . .

Alexander K. Rai, MSMA is the author of ‘Reader’s Indigest’. He ( personally ) believes in 2009, the most important aspect of existence is to readily admit one’s Humanity, so long as one is complicit in the Human Nature . Adding moreover that, while it is ‘Human to Err’, to ‘Err Honestly, is to find Truth’. Believing in his own Humanity, while at the same time, regarding the Whole that is more than the Collection of Parts, as the premise of what some may call the basis of his “Personal Faith”, he is giddy, that at any given time he is impersonating Only Himself, and all that is done by  his Humanity, is easily Surpassed by the volition of the Same, and what is prevented, is prevented by the same. The Author asides from being a ‘Real Person’  may in that vein, be also for the disinterested Reader, be a purely ‘Symbolic Speculation’, and shall not be disserved from the profit of Gainful Readership, whatsoever. The Author, therein, as Stated, does not take Credit for either Comprehension or Incomprehension of any of his Creative Works, offered in Honor of him Self and Despite Himself, freely to all that may elect to invest their ‘Time’ – and thereby moisten a bit of their Skin, in the Author’s peculiar unsolicited brand of mental – perhaps – also Spiritual – moisturizer.  The Photography Displayed in this Journal are not the Author’s, but rather transcriptions of images of Vintage Books, whose creative attributions are too many, too vague, or both – To List.

“Ad realibus, ad Realiora.”

In Uncategorized on August 29, 2009 at 6:39 pm

IMG_0504

. . .

“The Phenomena” once more inspired me. This time, to ‘mint’ a new word : REALITARIANISM .

I am afraid it’s a bit of a doctrine. But it’s a doctrine that is a de facto. No one person can claim to either believe or disbelieve this doctrine. The whole world insists on being complicit in that one doctrine. No one seeks to extend themselves Truly above it, no one, if extended a branch would truly climb out. Few choose to go higher, which helps only them that Do, and that’s just Wonderful. The others – observing the Act, – will then profit from it in the only way Realitarianism would afford them. By unscrupulous imitation, or the more honest-dishonest trade : Salesmanship of the Act, at which point Realitarianism engenders itself as a full fledged carnival-magnus!

If you ( The Reader ) are unmarried — young or old —  I wonder what keeps you unextended. What keeps you attached. The Branch is there for you, is it not? If Music ( Be You a Musing Soul ) is your Truth, then why not pursue Becoming Music? Is it perhaps a matter of Pace? A matter of Solidarity with the Moment as you have regulated it for your Self ? Surely, you must care very little about your profession, beyond that for you it is a Tool. I used to ( and still do ) find all modern tools to be a measure of desecration, knowing only those tools that are borne by a Sincere heart, that are seen in invisible Craftsrooms of sacralized Solicitude, that lie in the simplistic rudiments of the Soil, testimony to a higher Spirit than what they materialize As.

That is what compelled my ( social )  entrepreneurship. The ember-rudiments and open embryonism of my youthful and perfunctory designs.

Though how my heart grew embroiled in my entrepreneurship, is the mystery of my own identity. Oh well. Now, i am minting new old words. This is what inspired me : ‘Ad realibus ad realiora’ .

Have a Good Day, Now!

. . .

Alexander K. Rai, MSMA is an impassioned, Youthful Social Entrepreneur. When in High School, in a Course of Ethics and Government, he perturbed everyone in the room by stating, “Truth Is God”. Since then, unrecovered from that sentiment, he idly languishes in various Indigests, feasting on the Light of the Sun, frolicking along, Simpleminded, and generally, Serene. Otherwise undisturbed, he seeks to buy rice and grapefruit juice for his bowels, with Euro coins and Norwegian Kroners, believing “Doing Is the Change We Can Believe In!”

A Jocunde appropriatory Musickal Accompaniment : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WjA3wcv0nP4

A Human Requiem .

. . .

Somebody said that I am the last American living the tragedy of Europe. Ezra Pound

She saw too that man has the power of exceeding himself, of becoming himself more entirely and profoundly than he is, truths which have only recently begun to be seen in Europe and seem even now too great for its common intelligence. Sri Aurobindo

The verbal interpretation, on the other hand, i.e. the metaphysics of quantum physics, is on far less solid ground. In fact, in more than forty years physicists have not been able to provide a clear metaphysical model. Erwin Schrodinger

The Day It Rained Facts .

In Uncategorized on August 15, 2009 at 4:45 pm

3815208541_206ef54b16_b

The Great and Unadulterated Adults of the Space Age were all Silent. Stirring vodka with sixty nine inch nails in tea pots fire breathing dragons had fashioned from the eras of the Stone Ages from the primeval clay, drained by primpy paws of cosmic goo-encrusted nails. They – the Vene-rabbles contemplated the Sage things of Ancient and Accepted Pro-mythian Tymes, reminiscing on things they each had indeed forgotten to the credit of their busying, stormy, and noise-breathing Facta-Cities of which they had concocted at least a number of Thirteen on the laps of the Earthe. The Great and Unadulterated Ones were all Silent, for they had lost their appetites altogether. It was a Day whence rained downe Facts!

3819987087_ac10e5bd02_b

“What to Do!  What to Do!” Said They. Yet, as with all things the Venerabble would deign to Saye, there was no possible answer, none would dare speak, none could dare to reciprocate, nor could anyone hush or hiss, for the matters to be Made always were sealed with monikered Kisse, and things said and unsaid always took the way of rhetoricke, heroicke.

3817216713_758a4b5822_b

The Hall of Heroes : The Great Ones, sat around, seemingly listless. The facts would not stop raining, yet none could say a word. “Hush Boy! We of the Venerabbles are Of the Dignity of Rhetoricke!”. A litt-uh-l one started singing then, whence the one wearing the biggest hat, tossed into the bowels of emptiness a porcine piece of rhetoricke : “Come Boy! Singe me a Songe!”

edfedsf

The Boy Sung, ashen faced, as facts all of them Rainede. And he saide only these refrains :

“ Violets are Barney, Rivulets are Blue, blood is true, yet facts do brew. Brewing facts, O Pot, Sweet Sage Pot, Know Nothing, Know not, and Know it all, Life passes by like a pony’s tail, Death transmutes vain into a whittled flail, and the Immortal Soul, Innocence and Germane, what would it ever know of venerabble fame! For it is raining facts, my Liege, and dames are ashamed. Up their skirts, there is a Spider’s Coven. Yet perched above the raining facts, there is that eternal refrain, the world of Spirite have never schooled in vain, the vain, the vain, the glories of the vain, for you venerabble liege, I herein refrain. ”


fhgjhkujlk

The fairest of grays then delivered a venerabble hiccup, and what in its interpretation was contained, became the future fates of the many worlds, middle, low, and asgard.

Clipboard02sfes

. . .


Alexander K. Rai is a lyrical Social Entrepreneur, Independent Scholar, Commentator, and Mystic. He believes that symbolic interpretation of events and facts and their swifter appreciation and imbibance oft overrules the literal approach so many take as their principal methods in pursuing Understanding of the applicable Universal Truths, yet in such pursuit understanding is far too often denied and deterred if the symbolic substance does not inspire naturally and autonomously – and “speak to” what the reader already at a deeper and more granular level knows.

The author believes we are entering into an era, when the collective experiences and genuine truths and revelations of the histories have grown such in their volume, that their overarching mass, will be Raining Down as facts, that none can deny or decry, yet each can within their powers of influence, cast a vote as sensibly as possible to redeem the dogmatic ideations of the histories, and vote by their whole life force, in whither direction the human race may be going : in an era of Ethics, Co-Creative Potentiality, and entry into the Quantum Universes, or an irreversible plunge into an abyss formed by the deluge of facts themselves — as they rain down upon the unheeding, callous, and conniving masses of capable men.

. . . .

” All that we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. ” J.R.R. Tolkien ( 1892-1973 ), The Lord of the Rings : The Fellowship of the Ring

Also Purvey these to most optimally imbibe this Symbolic Narrative :

1.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tknGg6pi4A

2.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4kwSaJEVGg

3.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=69F7GhASOdM

4.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vFqbTP-BqUw

5.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G8IozVfph7I

6.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cgz5BELaYW0

7.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bxoo0e6p2bI

. . . . .

The Art of Mechanics.

In Uncategorized on August 7, 2009 at 10:57 pm

IMG_1819

( Plutarch’s ‘Marcellus’  Translated by John Dryden )

.  .  .  .  .

( Appreciation Liqueified by Sound ) : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGAsvJvebwI

” . . . He now was a third time created consul, and sailed over into Sicily. For the success of Hannibal had excited the Carthaginians to lay claim to that whole island; chiefly because after the murder of the tyrant Hieronymus, all things had been in tumult and confusion at Syracuse. For which reason the Romans also had sent before to that city a force under the conduct of Appius, as prætor. While Marcellus was receiving that army, a number of Roman soldiers cast themselves at his feet, upon occasion of the following calamity. Of those that survived the battle at Cannæ, some had escaped by flight, and some were taken alive by the enemy; so great a multitude, that it was thought there were not remaining Romans enough to defend the walls of the city. And yet the magnanimity and constancy of the city was such, that it would not redeem the captives from Hannibal, though it might have done so for a small ransom; a decree of the senate forbade it, and chose rather to leave them to be killed by the enemy, or sold out of Italy; and commanded that all who had saved themselves by flight should be transported into Sicily, and not permitted to return into Italy, until the war with Hannibal should be ended. These, therefore, when Marcellus was arrived in Sicily, addressed themselves to him in great numbers; and casting themselves at his feet, with much lamentation and tears humbly besought him to admit them to honorable service; and promised to make it appear by their future fidelity and exertions, that that defeat had been received rather by misfortune than by cowardice. Marcellus, pitying them, petitioned the senate by letters, that he might have leave at all times to recruit his legions out of them. After much debate about the thing, the senate decreed they were of opinion that the commonwealth did not require the service of cowardly soldiers; if Marcellus perhaps thought otherwise, he might make use of them, provided no one of them be honored on any occasion with a crown or military gift, as a reward of his virtue or courage. This decree stung Marcellus; and on his return to Rome, after the Sicilian war was ended, he upbraided the senate, that they had denied to him, who had so highly deserved of the republic, liberty to relieve so great a number of citizens in great calamity. At this time Marcellus, first incensed by injures done him by Hippocrates, commander of the Syracusans, (who, to give proof of his good affection to the Carthaginians, and to acquire the tyranny to himself, had killed a number of Romans at Leontini,) besieged and took by force the city of Leontini; yet violated none of the townsmen; only deserters, as many as he took, he subjected to the punishment of the rods and axe. But Hippocrates, sending a report to Syracuse, that Marcellus had put all the adult population to the sword, and then coming upon the Syracusans, who had risen in tumult upon that false report, made himself master of the city. Upon this Marcellus moved with his whole army to Syracuse, and, encamping near the wall, sent ambassadors into the city to relate to the Syracusans the truth of what had been done in Leontini. When these could not prevail by treaty, the whole power being now in the hands of Hippocrates, he proceeded to attack the city both by land and by sea. The land forces were conducted by Appius Marcellus, with sixty galleys, each with five rows of oars, furnished with all sorts of arms and missiles, and a huge bridge of planks laid upon eight ships chained together, upon which was carried the engine to cast stones and darts, assaulted the walls, relying on the abundance and magnificence of his preparations, and on his own previous glory; all which, however, were, it would seem, but trifles for Archimedes and his machines. These machines he had designed and contrived, not as matters of any importance, but as mere amusements in geometry; in compliance with king Hiero’s desire and request, some little time before, that he should reduce to practice some part of his admirable speculations in science, and by accommodating the theoretic truth to sensation and ordinary use, bring it more within the appreciation of people in general. Eudoxus and Archytas had been the first originators of this far-famed and highly prized art of mechanics, which they employed as an elegant illustration of geometrical truths, and as a means of sustaining experimentally, to the satisfaction of the senses, conclusions too intricate for proof by words and diagrams. As, for example, to solve the problem, so often required in constructing geometrical figures, given the two extreme, to find the two mean lines of a proportion, both these mathematicians had recourse to the aid of instruments, adapting to their purpose certain curves and sections of lines. But what with Plato’s indignation at it, and his invectives against it as the mere corruption and annihilation of the one good of geometry, which was thus shamefully turning its back upon the unembodied objects of pure intelligence to recur to sensation, and to ask help (not to be obtained without base subservience and depravation) from matter; so it was that mechanics came to be separated from geometry, and, repudiated and neglected by philosophers, took its place as a military art. Archimedes, however, in writing to king Hiero, whose friend and near relation he was, had stated, that given the force, any given weight might be moved, and even boasted, we are told, relying on the strength of demonstration, that if there were another earth, by going into it he could remove this. Hiero being struck with amazement at this, and entreating him to make good this problem by actual experiment, and show some great weight moved by a small engine, he fixed accordingly upon a ship of burden out of the king’s arsenal, which could not be drawn out of the dock without great labor and many men; and, loading her with many passengers and a full freight, sitting himself the while far off, with no great endeavor, but only holding the head of the pulley in his hand and drawing the cord by degrees, he drew the ship in a straight line, as smoothly and evenly, as if she had been in the sea. The king, astonished at this, and convinced of the power of the art, prevailed upon Archimedes to make him engines accommodated to all the purposes, offensive and defensive, of a siege. These the king himself never made use of, because he spent almost all his life in a profound quiet, and the highest affluence. But the apparatus was, in a most opportune time, ready at hand for the Syracusans, and with it also the engineer himself. When, therefore, the Romans assaulted the walls in two places at once, fear and consternation stupefied the Syracusans, believing that nothing was able to resist that violence and those forces. But when Archimedes began to ply his engines, he at once shot against the land forces all sorts of missile weapons, and immense masses of stone that came down with incredible noise and violence, against which no man could stand; for they knocked down those upon whom they fell, in heaps, breaking all their ranks and files. In the meantime huge poles thrust out from the walls over the ships, sunk some by the great weights which they let down from on high upon them; others they lifted up into the air by an iron hand or beak like a crane’s beak, and, when they had drawn them up by the prow, and set them on end upon the poop, they plunged them to the bottom of the sea; or else the ships, drawn by engines within, and whirled about, were dashed against steep rocks that stood jutting out under the walls, with great destruction of the soldiers that were aboard them. A ship was frequently lifted up to a great height in the air (a dreadful thing to behold), and was rolled to and fro, and kept swinging, until the mariners were all thrown out, when at length it was dashed against the rocks, or let fall. At the engine that Marcellus brought upon the bridge of ships, which was called Sambuca from some resemblance it had to an instrument of music, while it was as yet approaching the wall, there was discharged a piece of a rock of ten talents’ weight, then a second and a third, which, striking upon it with immense force and with a noise like thunder, broke all its foundation to pieces, shook out all its fastenings, and completely dislodged it from the bridge. So Marcellus, doubtful what counsel to pursue, drew off his ships to a safer distance, and sounded a retreat to his forces on land. They then took a resolution of coming up under the walls, if it were possible, in the night; thinking that as Archimedes used ropes stretched at length in playing his engines, the soldiers would now be under the shot, and the darts would, for want of sufficient distance to throw them, fly over their heads without effect. But he, it appeared, had long before framed for such occasion engines accommodated to any distance, and shorter weapons; and had made numerous small openings in the walls, through which, with engines of a shorter range, unexpected blows were inflicted on the assailants. Thus, when they who thought to deceive the defenders came close up to the walls, instantly a shower of darts and other missile weapons was again cast upon them. And when stones came tumbling down perpendicularly upon their heads, and, as it were, the whole wall shot out arrows at them, they retired. And now, again, as they were going off, arrows and darts of a longer range indicted a great slaughter among them, and their ships were driven one against another; while they themselves were not able to retaliate in any way. For Archimedes had provided and fixed most of his engines immediately under the wall; whence the Romans, seeing that infinite mischiefs overwhelmed them from no visible means, began to think they were fighting with the gods. Yet Marcellus escaped unhurt, and, deriding his own artificers and engineers, “What,” said he, “must we give up fighting with this geometrical Briareus, who plays pitch and toss with our ships, and, with the multitude of darts which he showers at a single moment upon us, really outdoes the hundred-handed giants of mythology?” And, doubtless, the rest of the Syracusans were but the body of Archimedes’ designs, one soul moving and governing all; for, laying aside all other arms, with his alone they infested the Romans, and protected themselves. In fine, when such terror had seized upon the Romans, that, if they did but see a little rope or a piece of wood from the wall, instantly crying out, that there it was again, Archimedes was about to let fly some engine at them, they turned their backs and fled, Marcellus desisted from conflicts and assaults, putting all his hope in a long siege. Yet Archimedes possessed so high a spirit, so profound a soul, and such treasures of scientific knowledge, that though these inventions had now obtained him the renown of more than human sagacity, he yet would not deign to leave behind him any commentary or writing on such subjects; but, repudiating as sordid and ignoble the whole trade of engineering, and every sort of art that lends itself to mere use and profit, he placed his whole affection and ambition in those purer speculations where there can be no reference to the vulgar needs of life; studies, the superiority of which to all others is unquestioned, and in which the only doubt can be, whether the beauty and grandeur of the subjects examined, or the precision and cogency of the methods and means of proof, most deserve our admiration. It is not possible to find in all geometry more difficult and intricate questions, or more simple and lucid explanations. Some ascribe this to his natural genius; while others think that incredible effort and toil produced these, to all appearance, easy and unlabored results. No amount of investigation of yours would succeed in attaining the proof, and yet, once seen, you immediately believe you would have discovered it; by so smooth and so rapid a path he leads you to the conclusion required. And thus it ceases to be incredible that (as is commonly told of him), the charm of his familiar and domestic Siren made him forget his food and neglect his person, to that degree that when he was occasionally carried by absolute violence to bathe, or have his body anointed, he used to trace geometrical figures in the ashes of the fire, and diagrams in the oil on his body, being in a state of entire preoccupation, and, in the truest sense, divine possession with his love and delight in science. His discoveries were numerous and admirable; but he is said to have requested his friends and relations that when he was dead, they would place over his tomb a sphere containing a cylinder, inscribing it with the ratio which the containing solid bears to the contained. Finis | http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3di_FWO8MU Musicke As Notion ( Liqueified ) | http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGAsvJvebwI He now was a third time created consul, and sailed over into Sicily. For the success of Hannibal had excited the Carthaginians to lay claim to that whole island; chiefly because after the murder of the tyrant Hieronymus, all things had been in tumult and confusion at Syracuse. For which reason the Romans also had sent before to that city a force under the conduct of Appius, as prætor. While Marcellus was receiving that army, a number of Roman soldiers cast themselves at his feet, upon occasion of the following calamity. Of those that survived the battle at Cannæ, some had escaped by flight, and some were taken alive by the enemy; so great a multitude, that it was thought there were not remaining Romans enough to defend the walls of the city. And yet the magnanimity and constancy of the city was such, that it would not redeem the captives from Hannibal, though it might have done so for a small ransom; a decree of the senate forbade it, and chose rather to leave them to be killed by the enemy, or sold out of Italy; and commanded that all who had saved themselves by flight should be transported into Sicily, and not permitted to return into Italy, until the war with Hannibal should be ended. These, therefore, when Marcellus was arrived in Sicily, addressed themselves to him in great numbers; and casting themselves at his feet, with much lamentation and tears humbly besought him to admit them to honorable service; and promised to make it appear by their future fidelity and exertions, that that defeat had been received rather by misfortune than by cowardice. Marcellus, pitying them, petitioned the senate by letters, that he might have leave at all times to recruit his legions out of them. After much debate about the thing, the senate decreed they were of opinion that the commonwealth did not require the service of cowardly soldiers; if Marcellus perhaps thought otherwise, he might make use of them, provided no one of them be honored on any occasion with a crown or military gift, as a reward of his virtue or courage. This decree stung Marcellus; and on his return to Rome, after the Sicilian war was ended, he upbraided the senate, that they had denied to him, who had so highly deserved of the republic, liberty to relieve so great a number of citizens in great calamity. At this time Marcellus, first incensed by injures done him by Hippocrates, commander of the Syracusans, (who, to give proof of his good affection to the Carthaginians, and to acquire the tyranny to himself, had killed a number of Romans at Leontini,) besieged and took by force the city of Leontini; yet violated none of the townsmen; only deserters, as many as he took, he subjected to the punishment of the rods and axe. But Hippocrates, sending a report to Syracuse, that Marcellus had put all the adult population to the sword, and then coming upon the Syracusans, who had risen in tumult upon that false report, made himself master of the city. Upon this Marcellus moved with his whole army to Syracuse, and, encamping near the wall, sent ambassadors into the city to relate to the Syracusans the truth of what had been done in Leontini. When these could not prevail by treaty, the whole power being now in the hands of Hippocrates, he proceeded to attack the city both by land and by sea. The land forces were conducted by Appius Marcellus, with sixty galleys, each with five rows of oars, furnished with all sorts of arms and missiles, and a huge bridge of planks laid upon eight ships chained together, upon which was carried the engine to cast stones and darts, assaulted the walls, relying on the abundance and magnificence of his preparations, and on his own previous glory; all which, however, were, it would seem, but trifles for Archimedes and his machines. These machines he had designed and contrived, not as matters of any importance, but as mere amusements in geometry; in compliance with king Hiero’s desire and request, some little time before, that he should reduce to practice some part of his admirable speculations in science, and by accommodating the theoretic truth to sensation and ordinary use, bring it more within the appreciation of people in general. Eudoxus and Archytas had been the first originators of this far-famed and highly prized art of mechanics, which they employed as an elegant illustration of geometrical truths, and as a means of sustaining experimentally, to the satisfaction of the senses, conclusions too intricate for proof by words and diagrams. As, for example, to solve the problem, so often required in constructing geometrical figures, given the two extreme, to find the two mean lines of a proportion, both these mathematicians had recourse to the aid of instruments, adapting to their purpose certain curves and sections of lines. But what with Plato’s indignation at it, and his invectives against it as the mere corruption and annihilation of the one good of geometry, which was thus shamefully turning its back upon the unembodied objects of pure intelligence to recur to sensation, and to ask help (not to be obtained without base subservience and depravation) from matter; so it was that mechanics came to be separated from geometry, and, repudiated and neglected by philosophers, took its place as a military art. Archimedes, however, in writing to king Hiero, whose friend and near relation he was, had stated, that given the force, any given weight might be moved, and even boasted, we are told, relying on the strength of demonstration, that if there were another earth, by going into it he could remove this. Hiero being struck with amazement at this, and entreating him to make good this problem by actual experiment, and show some great weight moved by a small engine, he fixed accordingly upon a ship of burden out of the king’s arsenal, which could not be drawn out of the dock without great labor and many men; and, loading her with many passengers and a full freight, sitting himself the while far off, with no great endeavor, but only holding the head of the pulley in his hand and drawing the cord by degrees, he drew the ship in a straight line, as smoothly and evenly, as if she had been in the sea. The king, astonished at this, and convinced of the power of the art, prevailed upon Archimedes to make him engines accommodated to all the purposes, offensive and defensive, of a siege. These the king himself never made use of, because he spent almost all his life in a profound quiet, and the highest affluence. But the apparatus was, in a most opportune time, ready at hand for the Syracusans, and with it also the engineer himself. When, therefore, the Romans assaulted the walls in two places at once, fear and consternation stupefied the Syracusans, believing that nothing was able to resist that violence and those forces. But when Archimedes began to ply his engines, he at once shot against the land forces all sorts of missile weapons, and immense masses of stone that came down with incredible noise and violence, against which no man could stand; for they knocked down those upon whom they fell, in heaps, breaking all their ranks and files. In the meantime huge poles thrust out from the walls over the ships, sunk some by the great weights which they let down from on high upon them; others they lifted up into the air by an iron hand or beak like a crane’s beak, and, when they had drawn them up by the prow, and set them on end upon the poop, they plunged them to the bottom of the sea; or else the ships, drawn by engines within, and whirled about, were dashed against steep rocks that stood jutting out under the walls, with great destruction of the soldiers that were aboard them. A ship was frequently lifted up to a great height in the air (a dreadful thing to behold), and was rolled to and fro, and kept swinging, until the mariners were all thrown out, when at length it was dashed against the rocks, or let fall. At the engine that Marcellus brought upon the bridge of ships, which was called Sambuca from some resemblance it had to an instrument of music, while it was as yet approaching the wall, there was discharged a piece of a rock of ten talents’ weight, then a second and a third, which, striking upon it with immense force and with a noise like thunder, broke all its foundation to pieces, shook out all its fastenings, and completely dislodged it from the bridge. So Marcellus, doubtful what counsel to pursue, drew off his ships to a safer distance, and sounded a retreat to his forces on land. They then took a resolution of coming up under the walls, if it were possible, in the night; thinking that as Archimedes used ropes stretched at length in playing his engines, the soldiers would now be under the shot, and the darts would, for want of sufficient distance to throw them, fly over their heads without effect. But he, it appeared, had long before framed for such occasion engines accommodated to any distance, and shorter weapons; and had made numerous small openings in the walls, through which, with engines of a shorter range, unexpected blows were inflicted on the assailants. Thus, when they who thought to deceive the defenders came close up to the walls, instantly a shower of darts and other missile weapons was again cast upon them. And when stones came tumbling down perpendicularly upon their heads, and, as it were, the whole wall shot out arrows at them, they retired. And now, again, as they were going off, arrows and darts of a longer range indicted a great slaughter among them, and their ships were driven one against another; while they themselves were not able to retaliate in any way. For Archimedes had provided and fixed most of his engines immediately under the wall; whence the Romans, seeing that infinite mischiefs overwhelmed them from no visible means, began to think they were fighting with the gods. Yet Marcellus escaped unhurt, and, deriding his own artificers and engineers, “What,” said he, “must we give up fighting with this geometrical Briareus, who plays pitch and toss with our ships, and, with the multitude of darts which he showers at a single moment upon us, really outdoes the hundred-handed giants of mythology?” And, doubtless, the rest of the Syracusans were but the body of Archimedes’ designs, one soul moving and governing all; for, laying aside all other arms, with his alone they infested the Romans, and protected themselves. In fine, when such terror had seized upon the Romans, that, if they did but see a little rope or a piece of wood from the wall, instantly crying out, that there it was again, Archimedes was about to let fly some engine at them, they turned their backs and fled, Marcellus desisted from conflicts and assaults, putting all his hope in a long siege. Yet Archimedes possessed so high a spirit, so profound a soul, and such treasures of scientific knowledge, that though these inventions had now obtained him the renown of more than human sagacity, he yet would not deign to leave behind him any commentary or writing on such subjects; but, repudiating as sordid and ignoble the whole trade of engineering, and every sort of art that lends itself to mere use and profit, he placed his whole affection and ambition in those purer speculations where there can be no reference to the vulgar needs of life; studies, the superiority of which to all others is unquestioned, and in which the only doubt can be, whether the beauty and grandeur of the subjects examined, or the precision and cogency of the methods and means of proof, most deserve our admiration. It is not possible to find in all geometry more difficult and intricate questions, or more simple and lucid explanations. Some ascribe this to his natural genius; while others think that incredible effort and toil produced these, to all appearance, easy and unlabored results. No amount of investigation of yours would succeed in attaining the proof, and yet, once seen, you immediately believe you would have discovered it; by so smooth and so rapid a path he leads you to the conclusion required. And thus it ceases to be incredible that (as is commonly told of him), the charm of his familiar and domestic Siren made him forget his food and neglect his person, to that degree that when he was occasionally carried by absolute violence to bathe, or have his body anointed, he used to trace geometrical figures in the ashes of the fire, and diagrams in the oil on his body, being in a state of entire preoccupation, and, in the truest sense, divine possession with his love and delight in science. His discoveries were numerous and admirable; but he is said to have requested his friends and relations that when he was dead, they would place over his tomb a sphere containing a cylinder, inscribing it with the ratio which the containing solid bears to the contained.”

Finis | http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E3di_FWO8MU

.  .  .
Alexander K. Rai, MSMA is a traditionalist indepdent scholar who believes in the Principle of Objective Truth. Believing Spirit and Empowerment through Ethics and Co-Creation carry the recipe of Transformational Peace and Light, and the fertile graces of community, values, and inner voice will carry the banner in definining a natural hierarchy of values, in a world lost in the anemia of proportions, and an exorbitant chorus of internecine conflict that is a zero sum game, and discredits the tremendous potential vested in the actualizable Man. Alexander, additionally, is a resident homo sapien on the Planteray System of the Sun, calling the Third Rock his modest home.

An Ode to the Beautiful Morning.

In Uncategorized on August 7, 2009 at 10:29 pm

IMG_0006

I just wanted to let you know what a beautiful morning it is here today.

Looking out the window, and witnessing the thatched wheat complected ‘cement’? Oh, may be it is not cement. May be it is tofu. May be it is the gnarled skin of our grandfathers sun-bathing on the fjords. Maybe it is the primordial emotion of gratitude. The wall outside of these two windows–how magical they appear struck into Life lit by Sun Light.

By that primordial emotion. The trees drool their spiritual salve on your Soul as they cast shadows. They know what you Are. They honor that Love. Just one tree is enough to be the ambassador for the entire gratitude race of trees, of which the Tree of Life is the highest Evergreen. And here I thought of a Fairie-affixed to my lapel—who permeates like an orb–when darkness claims the heart of the hunter,–when he can tread no more–and his knees give in to the cooling touch of mud–his back arched like his spent bow– she is there–always, with a lavender stem of which the crescent is her illumined smile. Stalwart, like a Torchlight gently warming through the tinctured glass of the light beacon at the lilting corners of the Soule’s Sandy expanse. A tower of Light whisking away ships from their drunken narwhaal wrecks. Lo, they’d never have known. Those Drunkards… Never. Such is the Nature of Mysterious. Gratitude. Unless revealed by a Rightful Kiss. The bed lies tousled. I did not mend it yet. I made breakfast. Cereal and Strawberries. Everyone is sleeping, and there’s a holy feeling. A sacred feeling.

july2008

To witness myself in the tiresome legacies of the things I have done–the things I could do–ah!, things–these are just things. Things, Things, Things. The worlds are frittered with them. The reactions of the act of creation. The opium of engagement. The suckle-touch of the artist who seeks objects as lovers and lovers as objects, and in the moment such an artist discovers the crack inbetween the two–in they fall. To awaken to the tofu-touch of the cement that is their Love. I never liked things. But their meanings—Lo! O Sacred Meaning! O Hallowed Metaphor of which the Gift is that which is ensconsed beyond the emblem–as that primordial emotion. Therein, no things need apply. The tiresome legacy of collecting these to assemble and perpetuate a substantive metaphor. To elicit their echoes as beacons. To show. To amend the ‘Other’ with the ‘One’. This had been tiresome. The agonies and ecstasies were never reactions there, I remember– but the filters of the dimensions through which the transient process of animals, minerals, generals, and nationals–coveters and ticketers, trinketeers and buffoneers, the weaks and the less weaks–have bypassed–, taking, taking, taking, from what need to not be “taken” with such vain effort but need Be ‘Knowne’ as True Golde and thus it shall make of itself an inheritance that is as true as it is total.

IMG_0102

Unheeding to the subtle hints–fraught into a state of semi-permanent fracture–by the outrage of the tired craftsman. Tiresome is Legacy. To stare at the details–is to miss. To miss no thing. Nay. But to miss the self-completing touch of the Beloved, Of which our transcendental Love is the Magicke Lampfe, and we are the twain mages, of which G-d alone is third Wise King. And it is when I miss that, that I am possessed by it. And it makes me want to cry. It makes me want to cry away at all of the vainglories of innocence. “Forgive them Father, for they know not what they Do.” The innocence of the meandering fool, the innocence of the troubador with the hollow head, the innocence of the motorcade traveling at rapid speed eager to greet a dead end, the innocence of travesties and coituses of compare-contrast thesis papers–these are the vainglories of innocence. But Lo, there is an innocence beyond such innocence. The innocence of the Primordial Emotion. The innocence of that Gratitude. The innocence of the betwinklin babe. The innocence of that Divine Moment. When I met you. Forever. Though I miss you. Though I cry for you. I am You. As you are the tears of me. As well as the Purpose of my Soul. I don’t miss anything. Other than myself. A Cosmic Vault to which, You Alone Possess the Key. And you Alone are the Preserved Treasure. We’ll find it Soon O Beloved, Where the concept of the ‘Other’ need apply no more. Where the strange and twisted ways of asking a favor fade with the echoes of a thousand posterities; There, our Kingdom is Sovereign. I did tell you I Love You. I Do. I Do. I Do. Your love. From me. To you. For us.


My Shine.

.  .  .

Alexander K. Rai, MSMA is a member of the Universal Homo Sapien Commune, and believes deeply and sincerely, that Peace can be brought about through the healing and transformational effects of a Love that is True, and a Light that alone, dispels the darkness in which man rises and falls, only to regain the Truth of his highest expressed purpose : his ennobled crowning capacity to be Sincere and Actual. He is a photographer and a Social Entrepreneur who believes in a trinity of planet, people, and profit.

to pay a listen . . . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dt8dWGH7nf0

In Admiration of my Autobiographer : A Mister Benjamin Maddisson of Southern New Jersey – The Diligent Suburbanite of the Americas of Our Times.

In Uncategorized on August 7, 2009 at 8:46 pm


You’re obliged to pretend respect for people and institutions you think absurd. You live attached in a cowardly fashion to moral and social conventions you despise, condemn, and know lack all foundation. It is that permanent contradiction between your ideas and desires and all the dead formalities and vain pretenses of your civilization which makes you sad, troubled and unbalanced. In that intolerable conflict you lose all joy of life and all feeling of personality, because at every moment they suppress and restrain and check the free play of your powers. That’s the poisoned and mortal wound of the civilized world. Octave Mirbeau, Torture Garden, “The Mission,” Chapter 8


As Spring enters robustly, like a gale filled with fragrance, a’tousled with the flung hair of amour, -that is the Spiritual “Hair” rather than the Physical, it is tyme to begin to make a List of Gratitude.

To this end, comes to mind, a young man, from The State of New Jersey (more on my gratitude to the State, later-first the youth concerned!). His name is Benjamin Maddison, a Student of Rutger’s University, last I ‘checked’ studying History and Theology.

Mr. Maddison is a man of exceptional gifts, as any that knew him, as I did, in German Class as ‘coached’ by Frau Llewellyn, and in some other smattering of more mindless classes, than less, I found as a diminutive and decidedly strange colleague to Mr. Maddison, particularly his guffaws to be most instructive.
They were guffaws that would burst out with its own ring of boister, availing one to the notion of a resident personality seeking exposure to a joyful, robust, dionyssian Spirit. That of a man who loves his barrel- be it at the Boston Party of Tea and Tar and Feather, or even the other genus of barrel in which only Irish ale is contained.

Though I never examined deep into his eyes, his mischief was known to be contagious, his use of handkerchiefs common, his habits strangely rounded, but pleasantly so. And of course the guffaw – a transcendental belch of the Inner Spirit.
He found it amusing when the young and curvaceous madamme Cohen and Mr. Andrew sitting betwixt myself, would flirtatiously engage each other under that fine and wonderfully thoughtful, considerate, and noble spirited woman, Frau Llewellyn.
‘Frau’ was a miraculous culmination of Catholic principles and decidedly more Unitarian Synthesis. She was always found to be reasonable, and in her manners she expressed the best essence of Christianity-always by deed, preaching only the various varieties of datives and et cetera- distinctions of German grammar, presently oft in an Un-German way.

While I took –and liberally made use of this classroom opportunity, to draw various maps, cartoons, designs, and patterns and helices- many of Elves, and also practiced the Elven languages and Runes, much so inspired by Mr. Tolkien, reading the volume (unsubscribed by the “High” School) called ‘English and How It Got That Away’, whilst eating and slowly synthesizing through that orifice called my mouth, trucculations of sensations caused by my tastebuds in connotation to the expression contained within sugary and salty things to match the inner essences of my thought, Mr. Andrew and madamme Cohen, toyed with each other’s navels and close proximal venues of reproductive appendages in the dilly-dallying caress of fond and purposive, open and exerted youthful Love. Frau Llewellyn condescended with a tolerance that fluctuated between bemusement and outrage.

The guffaws of Mr. Maddison, always inclined on the “underbelly of the puns” provoked, titillated, and never bored the quiet and mild-mannered Mr. Himmel, the son of the Chief of Township Police, who carried always the mien of an Ethical Protestant.

Mister Maddison, who would later go on to write Coffee Shop Plays about desire and heartbreak, serenading the heart of an anonymous cooing maiden, loud in his Guffaw, and quick to discover contradictions, always liked to tease, and for whatever was contained within the bounds of his character, there was always plenty of Pop Corn and Soda Pop to unbind it. He studied with great care the distinctions of German Grammar, – with a sort of inclined virtue as that found in the attics of Rutgers’ Skull and Cap, brushing up on impressive facts, studying the canonical relevance of farting as a “ means to an end” , he visited Coffee Shops of a local variety, in the evenings of his commute overlooking the industrialized Schuylkill River, – a young man who guffawed, aged like Jacob before his time, ( or so the Bible says ), – he shifted uneasily between theology and autobiography.

My Gratitude, for he wrote mine ( autobiography ) on the Internet, in pencil, paper, pixel, and pen, with multiple cases of Pop Corn Provincialism and Nominative, Imaginative, Un-Grammatical Aphorisms, moved by the fantasies of a history major and blur of a jilted romance suburban poet, listening to Indie Tunes, he extolled his own examples after my borrowed name, and thunderstrokes of theological assertions, having scripted a few lines of autobiography, as my modest Self, he gained a poetic fame.

Kudos Mister Maddisson, for I Believe an Autobiography by any other name, would still be Just ( As ) Ben.


You can’t make up anything anymore. The world itself is a satire. All you’re doing is recording it.
Art Buchwald .

. . .

On a Spring of 2008. Retrospections in Suburbia of East Coast. Alexander K. Rai honoring the ghosts of Eastern Seaboard Highschool in a Spirit of Gratitude Divine and a Feeling of the Light.

Honoring Reflections by References of others :

(1) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=69zybL7cSPA
(2) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xZbKHDPPrrc
(3) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CIjftymU0bk
(4) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ciFTP_KRy4
(5) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxgZcMGmkkI
(6) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4WUsr689Y4
(7) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q1ZeXnmDZMQ

.  .  .

Alexander K. Rai, MSMA is Serial Entrepreneur and American Constitutionalist and a Fond Heart to Classical Traditions. He discovered at an early age, that Grace comes only buoyed by antagonism, as Light comes after braving darkness. The State of New Jersey conceded its defeat in a famous and record setting trial where Constitutional Principles browbeat State Corruption now no longer a Public Secret in 2009, – when Alexander K. Rai prevailed in a Famous Case against fraudulent and false indictment, setting new grounds for Liberty in the State of New Jersey. The Case was precipitated by antagonism Alexander found it a privilege to absorb with Faith from an oppressive, concrete, and xenophobic, anti-Values suburbia, that found Alexander’s aspirations to transform and guide his native Township towards true Self Appreciation and Empowerment through the Education and Benefit of the Gifted Youth and Green Economics and Classical Standards, “funny smelling and foreign”, subjecting the former to deprecations, witch-hunts, and an attempt to taxidermy and crucify a Striving and Justice Loving Individual, by those acquiscient to a sense of stolid privilege protected by “uncontested norms”. ‘MSMA’ stands for ‘Member to A Society of Mutual Admiration’, a Degree Alexander has bestowed on himself as well as others, Internationally, Reciprocally since he graduated from High School in early 2000′s.  He has been listed in 2009 ‘Marquis’ Who’s Who in America’ and cited in Wall Street Journal ( for Non-Profit Works ), and has started numerous companies.

Additional References :

( 1 ) http://www.thesopranostate.com/

( 2 ) http://www.geniusdenied.com/

( 3 ) http://www.reuters.com/article/newsOne/idUSTRE56M3QU20090723

( 4 ) http://www.sparta.markoulakispublications.org.uk/index.php?id=77

( 5 ) http://www.outsidethebeltway.com/archives/the_future_of_suburbia/

The Light of Hahnemann .

In Uncategorized on August 7, 2009 at 8:04 pm

IMG_0643

“My sense of duty would not easily allow me to treat the unknown pathological state of my suffering brethren with these unknown medicines. The thought of becoming in this way a murderer or malefactor towards the life of my fellow human beings was most terrible to me, so terrible and disturbing that I wholly gave up my practice in the first years of my married life and occupied myself solely with chemistry and writing.”


  • Samuel Hahnemann

( 1 ) http://www.reuters.com/article/pressRelease/idUS182590+15-Jan-2009+PRN20090115

( 2 ) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZmV8b1wr10

( 3 ) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SZjlazugP44

( 4 ) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G8IozVfph7I

( 5 ) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6NwfGA4cxJQ

.    .    .

Hubris, Whimper, and Bang .

In Uncategorized on August 7, 2009 at 7:54 pm

“If we value independence, if we are disturbed by the growing conformity of knowledge, of values, of attitudes, which our present system induces, then we may wish to set up conditions of learning which make for uniqueness, for self-direction, and for self-initiated learning.”  Carl Rogers.

To Perceive : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TKAxnB6Ap4o

.  .  .

Arrivederci ! Bounjourrno ! And A Bicycle .

In Uncategorized on August 7, 2009 at 7:53 pm


“Someone may have stolen your dream when it was young and fresh and you were innocent. Anger is natural. Grief is appropriate. Healing is mandatory. Restoration is possible.” Jane Rubietta

To Experience : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cqgKKoJaPwM

. . .

The Spirit of Numbers, and a Number of Spirits .

In Uncategorized on August 7, 2009 at 7:48 pm

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.