För några år sedan höll Matthieu Ricard ett inspirerande anförande på TED Talks. Han träffar så på pricken rätt när han skojar om de “franska intellektuella” som vill ha sitt lidande kvar för den ljuva känslan av välbefinnande när lidandet för en liten tid upphör… De frågar sig om man verkligen kan känna lycka om man aldrig har känt sorg?
Imagine an infinitely large room, without doors or windows. The white ceiling above your head reaches as far as you can see in all directions. The spotless floor shines as if it was made out of marble but it is surprisingly soft to sit on. The lighting is pleasant, not too bright and not too dark. You try the acoustics of the room out with your voice and you hear the echo from afar.
Våra möten hade ganska snabbt fått en given struktur enligt gammal österländsk sed. Vi turades om att vara kvällens värd. Den här gången var det min ära. Jag tog några vackert broderade kuddar från soffan och bredde ut dem på golvet och tände levande ljus i ljusstakar som jag fyndat på olika loppmarknader. Tevattnet stod redan och puttrade på spisen när det knackade på dörren.
We are the stories we tell. In this Universe and in this existence, where we live with this duality whether we exist or not and who we are, the stories we tell are the stories that define the potentiality of our existence. A story is the relationship between who you potentially are and the infinite world….
Everybody has a story that they follow.
I am writing a book about a girl who is writing a book that no one will ever read. She knows that she will throw her magnum opus in the garbage can when she is finished. The shadow boy assures her that that is fine, it is just the way it has to be because there are texts that are not meant to be read, only written.
Alldeles olägligt, mitt i en tanke fastnade mina ögon på något som i rimlighetens namn inte alls borde finnas där. Gapande betraktade jag det stora stolta trädet alldeles bredvid cykelvägen. Det var ett vackert askträd. De gröna löven vajade i vinden. Jag gick runt trädet och kände försiktigt på barken. Det föreföll vara ett högst ordinärt träd.
I apologize for my absence from the blog during the summer but to be honest I just couldn’t find the inspiration to write something cheerful or even remotely poetic, I felt completely drained. I wanted this blog to be a happy place, well… sort of anyway maybe hopeful is a more suitable word.
Utagawa Kuniyoshi (ca. 1797 – 1861) is one of the great masters of the japansese ukiyo-e style of woodblock prints. Ukiyo-e means pictures of the floating world. The famous writer Asai Ryoi (ca. 1612 – 1691) attempted to describe this idea in his Tales of the floating world.
One of the important lessons I learned in life is that time is the key. In the Universe there’s plenty of time. Actually the amount of time out there is so incredibly large we could never fully understand it.
I flew to Helsinki for the weekend to visit my aunt who lives in the part of the city called Vuosaari. When we were strolling through Uutela nature park she told me about the finnish artist Miina Äkkijyrkkä who used to live there.
