I think of poetry ... Images of bright white clouds come, scattered in the heights of a light blue sky in the middle of a summer day.
For some reason, I can’t help but think about poetry, when the autumn wind is insistently and anxiously rustling in the trees, turning something inside of me...
Perhaps there is a “scientific” definition of poetry. However, asking myself about poetry, I think about the moment of merging with timelessness. Or, about merging with that moment when there are no words - there is only a feeling: time has disappeared.
Suddenly, without leaving my place, I go through the magic canopy, and my sensations already exist without the superficial veil of what is usually called either civilization or passions. I just plunge, merge with the nameless world around and feel it as it is.
And, for some reason, it is always beautiful, pure, joyful, inspired, so enthralling with enthusiasm. This unknowingly hides the breath. This is always a little unexpected.
A bird, flashed in the long rays of the setting sun ... Overweight clouds swirling, illuminated by the sunset in saturated colors ... My beloved one's hair, sparkling in the rays of light. The vibrant radiance of her warm eyes. Or, suddenly, the glare of the sun on the floor, as if a timid puppy was fawning, wanting to play: look how cute I am.
No matter what anyone says, it’s a stubborn fact for me: if you look directly into the face of the setting sun, then the burden of worry and anxiety will fade, washed away by this divine light. You can just look at a leaf of a tree that shines through in the sun. And you can admire the grains of sand nearby, revealing their unobtrusive charm.
There is so much beauty in the world! And this moment of merging with this beaty, connecting to this plan of being, I would call poetical. And the property of the soul to give me such opportunities is poetry.
Many, unknowingly (?), believe that poetry is slobbering, sentimentality, calf tenderness, just rhyming. In fact, for me, poetry is a way of nourishing the soul.
If the soul is not nourished, it will dry out, and the person will turn into a subhuman. Therefore, poetry can safely be called a necessary condition for mental development. This is for those who want to hear something clever.
Simply, for a living person, poetry is a necessity. Ignoring poetry kills his soul voluntarily, turning himself into a walking corpse.
Words of voluntary suicide reminded me of similar words by an ancient philosopher who considered alcohol abuse to be voluntary self-destruction, and I fully agree with this point of view.
However, today there is a stereotype that alcohol helps to "expand" consciousness, including to feel your poetry, to "relax." I think a person who needs alcohol for such feelings does not live in harmony with himself. And alcohol will not help here.
This can be exaggerated, compared with the fact that someone would detonate atomic bombs in order to illuminate a day, ignoring all the harm that would result from there. And, is it necessary to expand? Certainly not the right expanding way...
...Remember your kiss when you are in love. The world then does not expand, but goes nowhere, pushed to another plane, and you remain together, alone with each other in a kiss, and it does not matter what is around. The important thing is what exists here and now, with particular you.
If you want to get carried away with philosophy, we can say that the poetry of the kiss is implicated in dissolving and merging to dizziness.
This is going beyond oneself, riding on the crests of the surf waves of life, beating on the shore of death.
Because such a way out is, in a way, a journey beyond the boundaries of one's usual limits of the self, a trip to novelty and trust in another, something new and special is born from this, but for this it is necessary to decide to open up, give something, and lose your own.
Perhaps true love also implies, in some ways, the death of each previous self, so that something new is born in the fire of feelings: a new "we"?
... And so quiet autumn days do happen, when it seems like you are in a strange aquarium - nature is so calm.
The sun is gentle, the air feels as if it is pure water, and the perception is distinct. Then it is especially easy to dissolve in this blissful peace, forgetting about everything, feeling yourself woven into the fabric of being.
A moment of awareness of this sensation is accompanied by such an amazing pleasure that you doubt the sexual contact as the highest pleasure for a person.
The pleasure of feeling one's being as a groove of our large, living world is happiness.
A pleasure that fills the soul with a special, silent presence.
Dissolution in contemplation, merging with an instant, lightness up to a zero gravity, wordless delight ...
There is nothing to express the warmth that is transmitted to all of me, from the goodness of happiness that fills everything around, and from my merging, fusion with the world, inclusion in this universal bliss.
This can only be understood by visitins. This can only be understood by feeling through... I so would love everyone to experience that!
After such an experience, the realization of the unity of all life, it will be unnatural for a person to continue to rock, destroy, spoil his home, his planet Earth.
After such an experience, it is completely impossible to understand how people can set themselves something else as the highest incentive but this feeling of unity with the beauty of the world?
How can people well-fed, with huge money, want to steal more and more? How can they take the burden of inciting, insulting, sending unsettled, hungry, undeveloped people - to kill each other, steal, rob, rape ...
After all, wars are not launched by poor people, no matter what they tell us about the lower classes which allegedly cannot tolerate the higher classes any more. Wars are launched by individuals with particular interests. And who supports these lower classes in such poverty? Who indulges in poverty, alcoholism, all social diseases?
Who ignores all that, using the today's situation for even greater enrichment? Who creates the conditions under which a person without capital has very little chance of well-being?
Who, finally, deliberately makes sure that not only are there no chances for prosperity, but all thoughts are tied to a design that brings nearly all the profit to individual traders only, a very little group of them?
Leaving no chance or strength to distract from the matrix, find peace, learn to see beauty and goodness.
If everyone’s minimum well-being was real here, everyone, literally everyone would have a chance to become happy. Right now, instantly.
After all, this thrill of being in its pure form is poured in the Universe, take as much as you want, and it will not end. Here it is, the magic lamp that Tarkovsy's Stalker was looking for.
I can see that parallel realities are not in the works of science fiction writers, but here and now, with us.
Some of us live loving life. Others trample it, killing themselves and others, vampire sucking life and destroying lives, their own and those around them, not knowing how to take this happiness, which is nearby. See, those are parallel realities...
Where is the answer and solution to all that? Perhaps in the depths of our souls.
/23.09.2014/