(If anyone can help me please with the name of the painter?)
#consciousness #literature #philosophy #prose #poetry
It’s chilly and dark outside and I am alone in my bedroom. It is perhaps my favorite part of the day, when I am in complete harmony with my inner self. It is the time when I rethink the world and people, when love is vivid in me. Isn’t it the way to consciousness?
The night is always magical and charming. It has the power to turn multiplicity to unity. People are all alike in the dark. They get along emotionally. It is when the brutal images of the day quit clashing in front of me and violent noises remain quiet. Then I become in a thinking mode. Music would be my greatest companion in these moments. All this is, to me, an exciting cocktail for creativity. Life is beautiful when we write it; it is never the same on every page. We write it with style and metaphors, with poetry and images. Feelings are only expressed after being crafted.
The metaphor of life makes me laugh. I would love to laugh so hard it hurts. I would love to laugh at life and for life, because life is beautiful and ironic. Once I think I understand it, it plays tricks on me. To be drunken of laughter, incapable of seeing clearly, letting all off, from my inner soul until I can hear no sound but mine, laughing! All channels in me are open, connecting with the universe; life demands openness; only death is a closure. Refusal is a closure; hate is a closure, envy is a closure. Every time I am negative, I am shutting down a part of me.
In fine, my face remains, in all this surrounding darkness, white like snow!