Saturday, 30 November 2013
I've always liked William Blake---- his dreamy paintings, his honest poems and his 'out-there' vision, and so when I (almost by chance) found out that he was buried in Bunhill Fields in the City of London I was shocked!
I went to visit his grave on a weekday afternoon and I remember sitting on a bench with a friend, watching as a whole procession of suits almost charged by. I just sat there with a faint smile on my face, thinking about how ironic it was that William Blake, the Romanatic poet I grew up reading, was buried there or all places, in the centre of this city buzzing with soulless bankers and corporate cogs! It was almost prophetic, and quite inexplicable. Then unknown, and now -here- still, (un-)known.... Below is one of Blake's famous poem's 'London.'
BY WILLIAM BLAKE
I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow.
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man,
In every Infants cry of fear,
In every voice: in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear
How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blackning Church appalls,
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls
But most thro' midnight streets I hear
How the youthful Harlots curse
Blasts the new-born Infants tear
And blights with plagues the Marriage hearse
“I will stay in prison till the moss grows on my eye lids rather than disobey God.”
― John Bunyan (author of Pilgrims Progress)
“This hill, though high, I covet to ascend;
The difficulty will not me offend.
For I perceive the way to life lies here.
Come, pluck up, heart; let's neither faint nor fear.
Better, though difficult, the right way to go,
Than wrong, though easy, where the end is woe.”
Tuesday, 26 November 2013
Monday, 25 November 2013
Thursday, 21 November 2013
Tuesday, 19 November 2013
...a truly magical exhibition, would def recommend a visit, click here for more info....
Hi. Hello. By Ben Canales (USA) 21 July 2012
What the photographer says:
‘I was mesmerized by the emptiness of this mountain-top scene. The snow-filled summit gave a clean slate allowing the Milky Way to seem unusually prominent. It is my favourite representation of what it feels like to stand beneath a vast starry sky.’
Canon 1DX camera; Canon 14mm f/2.8 lens; ISO 8000; 30-second exposure
What it shows:
Appearing like a column of smoke rising from the horizon, a dark lane of dust marks the plane of the Milky Way in this photograph. This dust plays a vital role in the life story of our galaxy. Formed from the ashes of dead and dying stars, the dust clouds are also the regions in which new stars will form.
....also, slightly random but the photographs almost reminded me of Explosions on the Sky's incredible instrumental album: The Earth is not a Cold Dead Place (see below)...
...and this passage from one of Kerouac's books....
I have lots of things to teach you now, in case we ever meet, concerning the message that was transmitted to me under a pine tree in North Carolina on a cold winter moonlit night. It said that Nothing Ever Happened, so don't worry. It's all like a dream. Everything is ecstasy, inside. We just don't know it because of our thinking-minds. But in our true blissful essence of mind is known that everything is alright forever and forever and forever. Close your eyes, let your hands and nerve-ends drop, stop breathing for 3 seconds, listen to the silence inside the illusion of the world, and you will remember the lesson you forgot, which was taught in immense milky way soft cloud innumerable worlds long ago and not even at all.
It is all one vast awakened thing. I call it the golden eternity. It is perfect. We were never really born, we will never really die. It has nothing to do with the imaginary idea of a personal self, other selves, many selves everywhere: Self is only an idea, a mortal idea. That which passes into everything is one thing. It's a dream already ended. There's nothing to be afraid of and nothing to be glad about. I know this from staring at mountains months on end. They never show any expression, they are like empty space. Do you think the emptiness of space will ever crumble away? Mountains will crumble, but the emptiness of space, which is the one universal essence of mind, the vast awakenerhood, empty and awake, will never crumble away because it was never born. -Jack Kerouac