The Starry Cave

“You have to die a few times before you can really live.”  - Charles Bukowski Indeed, as we live on we repeatedly die and we die again, as we bring birth to a renewal of ourselves, our ideas, our identity and the meaning that lies spread out like pebbles on our path. In the resurrection we cast of our skin and we forge new bonds as the old is laid at rest in some chest or burned at the pyre of renewal. But the living will always resent, hate and envy those who hold hand with death, because transformation - for specie, like ours, that seek to be still in permanence - is a threatening possibility. Death is everywhere, it be in the death of a conviction, a thought, dysfunction or the Batillian orgasm. Some of us just push this fact over to the pages yet to be read in our little book of life, truth and lies.   Those of us who have found peace with Death also find that life is a journey of wonders and we open up to these wonders in a spirit of interest, peace and...

“Besides love and sympathy, animals exhibit other qualities connected with the social instincts which in us would be called moral.” - Charles Darwin And now, after some musings on cognitive dissonance and cognitive bias, complaining about the worth we give to opinions, said or heard, and its consequences, to where this lead us? It should, at least to some extent, lead us to an open field of acceptance and as the field itself, openness. This, because who we are is so hard to fathom, reach and preserve and why is it so hard? Perhaps it is because who we say we are is a dynamic flexible idea resting on a balance between the silence of Self and our interaction with a given environment? A question that is resolved in a common advice for many decades, if you don’t know who you are, travel, read, explore, be and adventurer in your own life. And so it happens that a lost soul travelling to Tibet finds itself as much as any struggling human going to the tavern with his miser...

"The further one goes, the less one knows."  Lao Tzu (Tao Te Ching) Truth, Veritas is a strange thing. For the Romans it was a white clad virgin living in the bottom of a well, something that was not really tangible, just noticed, as a memory and flash of reason from some mysterious concord. Truth being hidden, would also indicate that none of us can own the truth and anyone who jumps into the well to catch her is confronted with the mud of waters and some occult an veiled suffocation. Maybe we can conceive truth as that light that shoots from the whiteness hidden in obscurity that you can never, ever possess, just recognize and realize is there because of the atmosphere of the veiled becoming naked in sighs and acceptance? Because Veritas is not about facts, what is commonly confused with Truth as principle and ideal – and so, whoever states to possess the Truth will always be an Ignotus – and some even become liars in this sad bolero of defeat, because ...

"They dispute not in order to find or even to seek Truth, but for victory, and to appear the more learned and strenuous upholders of a contrary opinion. Such persons should be avoided by all who have not a good breastplate of patience." - Giordano Bruno The world is a funny thing and life is an interesting condition if we approach it as such, but yet nuances and irritations makes part of life as much as bliss, love and joy – and if we try to take life a little bit less serious than what we tend to do we will also see that what we deem positive have an increase. Because life is deadly serious, and because of this we should try to relax and not take the journey that serious, but rather as explorers and adventurers, heroines and heroes making a journey someone will remember. Still, everyone is someone’s asshole, and we all complain about complainers, trolls and idiots. Sometimes it is like to being a nitwit appears to be the crown of human accomplishment and thus...