Tag Archives: Philosophical

How to Break Out of The “PERFECTION TRAP”

The Cat of Cats By William Brighty Rands

William Brighty Rands

I am the cat of cats. I am
The everlasting cat!
Cunning, and old, and sleek as jam,
The everlasting cat!
I hunt vermin in the night-
The everlasting cat!
For I see best without the light-
The everlasting cat!

Mirage By Clark Ashton Smith

Clark Ashton Smith

Deem ye the veiling vision will abide—
The marvel, and the glamor, and the dream
Which lies in light upon the barren world ? . . .

The wings of Phoenix towering to the sun,
Nor opals, nor the morning foam, may hold
The hueful light that as from faery moons
Is mirrored on the sand; where many a time,
From fields that hem with golden asphodel
A river like a dragon coiled in light,
Rise to the noon the hovering minarets
And soaring walls of cities Ilion-like,
Till the dim winds are hung with palaces
Of orient madreperl.

For ever lost—
Like sunset on a land of old romance—
The splendor fails, and leaves the traveller
In bournless deserts flaunting to the day.

The Heritage By Alice Duer Miller

Alice Duer Miller

ON summer evenings when the full moon shines
Serene and fair,
High in the crystal air,
On hillsides deep in birches and in pines,
Then in all hearts there stirs a hidden fire
Of hope, or memory;
Some their beloved dead more yearningly desire,
Some dream of loves to be,
Some weep their swift and sweet mortality.

But I remember only,
Long centuries ago,
A glen more dark and lonely
Than these which now I know;
The noise of waters flowing,
And faint, salt breezes blowing,
Ivy and myrtle growing,
As here they do not grow.

There, when the moon was at full we would come, we would come,
To the shrilling of pipes, and the terrible tone of the drum ,
Rolling long, rolling loud, as the voice that presages the rain,
We would come to the cavern profound, to the holy domain.
Then in the moonlight entrancing,
Figures moved agile and fleet,
Then there was dancing, ay, dancing,
Leaping and stamping of feet, ­
Dancers that drifted and darted,
Light as a leaf in the breeze,
Circles that met and that parted,
While the stars danced through the trees.
Quickening, the drums beat the measure,
All the night long on the hill, -
Such was the Thunderer’s pleasure. . . .
This I remember me still.

O placid northern moon on this calm lake
Beaming demure and tame,
How can I take
Aught of delight in thy pale flame?
I ache
For a communion I have known
Long centuries ago,
Which nevermore the world will seek, or know;
For a belief outgrown,
Yet how much more my own
Than creeds that hold me quiet on my knees;
For rites, that brought delights like these,
And Gods I once knew how to please.

How to Stop Giving a F@$% What People Think

Can Any Good Come Out Of Television?

A televisionHere is the link to the latest article on my other blog: Can Any Good Come Out Of Television?

The Philosophies Of Anarchism

The Perfect Wave By Shel Silverstein

Shel Silverstein

Dave McGunn was a surfin’ bum, half–crazed by the blazin’ sun.
From Waikiki to the Bering Sea, he rode ’em one by one.
Now he hung offshore ’bout a mile or more, out where the dolphins played,
And his wild eyes gleamed as he schemed and dreamed
To ride the perfect wave.

Oh, ride the perfect wave, Dave, ride the perfect wave.
If you wait it out and you don’t sell out, you may ride
The perfect wave.

He crouched in the spray and he waited all day till the sun gave way to the moon,
And his legs grew cold and he grew old and wrinkled like a prune.
And the years rolled by and the surf broke high and the 40–foot breakers sprayed.
But he sneered at ’em all, sayin’, ‘Too damn small; I’m waitin’
For the perfect wave.’

He was sleepin’ on his board when he woke to a roar as thunder shook the sea.
’Twas the dreaded California quake of 1973.
And he stared at the reef in disbelief, then paddled with tremblin’ hands
As a monstrous crashin’ tidal wave came roarin’ ’cross the land.

It was 12 miles high and it filled the sky, the color of boilin’ blood.
And cities fell beneath its swell and mountains turned to mud.
Its deadly surf engulfed the earth and left not a thing alive.
And high on the tip with a smile on his lip was Davey hangin’ five.
He hit the top of the Golden Gate at a thousand miles an hour,
Over the top of the Empire State and the tip of the Eiffel Tower.
And as he wiped out, you could hear him shout as he plunged to a watery grave,
‘Hey hi dee hi, I’m glad to die –– I’ve rode
The perfect wave.’

Eckhart Tolle’s Secret to Happiness in 3 Words – A New Earth – Oprah Winfrey Network

A Quotation About Our Minds From David Blaine

David Blaine

David Blaine (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In truth, only restrictions on our capacity to astonish ourselves and each other are imposed by our own minds. — David Blaine