Reflections on a theme in Bela Stena

Elevate form over function to get at less easily articulable truths.

Reflections on a theme in Bela Stena

Postby Arcturus Descending » Sat Apr 04, 2015 5:39 pm

The female arrived at Bela Stena [white rock]. “I am finally here. Beautiful oh so beautiful” she thought and then for no apparent reason, she could be heard giggling and then humming a tune. la la la la la, la la, la la.~~ la la la la la, la la, la la as she gazed at the Danube River. Who would have believed it – I am here in Bela Stena!

She looked all around her as she walked along the beach’s shoreline and at times it seemed as if the female was searching for something she knew to be there or hoped to be there. But alas at some point her face began to register disappointment which slowly transformed itself into a look of resignation and then there seemed to be a sense of amor fati taking over her being. The female stopped, hugged herself, and a “thank you” seemed to resonate throughout the whole beach as she recalled Bonhoeffer’s words: “It is only with gratitude that life becomes rich.” She warmed to those words. Then she smiled and moved on.

As twilight descended, the pagan sun-worshippers began to leave the beach. She felt the slow anticipation of one moving towards an exquisite experience ~ not the experience of the hedonist but one which is grounded in the promise of a profound solitude.

There was just something, something so mystifying to her, about the effect of the utterly, heart-rending panoramic image and energy of water on her, whether it was the ocean, especially the ocean, or a river or even a walk in the rain. It was not simply that this female loved it all but that she became like a Lover to it, became one with it. At times like this, she knew what it was to be ~ and to be who she was

The Danube which lay before her eyes on this day which would soon become precious and unforgettable, was of a deeply blue indigo. “Indigo, indigo, color me indigo, wrap me in your indigo waters.” she whispered to herself. The female’s spirit did not know in these moments whether to ascend or to descend so she remained unmoving, perfectly still, Perfect Stillness, as though even her breathing stopped.

Iridescent, silver-streaked satiny strands, bestowed by a gracious sun god, were being carried along on these rippling waves of indigo which were flowing and ebbing, like an eternal reoccurrence of rhythmic time and space. The sun itself was taking a slow dip into the Danube, clothed in an aura of flaming golden yellow and orange while the sky was an almost ethereal luminescent emerald green. It seemed to the female in this moment of contemplation that she had been painted or etched into an artist’s masterpiece, not as an afterthought, but as such a willing participant ~ a Lover.

She suddenly felt the call, the urge, to go into the Danube. She looked around her and the beach was empty of people, perfect aloneness and solitude for her, except for the seagulls, their acrobatics and their beautifully haunting cries. But still, such solitude for her. She ran into the water and stopped short, taking in all of the glowing magic surrounding her. Eisley’s words came to her in that moment: “If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water.” and the tears began to stream down her cheeks.

She then looked up and stretched out her arms to the sky. She knelt down in the water digging her fingers into the wet sand. She came up with handfuls of it and for some reason smeared it onto her cheeks. She laughed and she laughed and everything became silent in that moment. She stood up, walked further into the Danube ~ the Danube~ and began to swim further and further into the river.

*She swam luxuriantly in the profound aloneness, the cold, endless watery space engulfing her, as she engulfed it - an incredible symbiotic union.*

*The gathering twilight gave rise to a heightened awareness of all of her senses and she knew, beyond anything she had ever known before, what it was to "be" like her, to be her, existing in these moments. So she swam and swam amidst and above silver satin, sheets of indigo and rippling reflections of fiery gold and emerald green.*

She rolled over onto her back and floated silently, bobbing gently up and down like a bottle, in tune with the ripples. The thought occurred to the female that if she died in these moments, this might be her eternity. She smiled at the possibility. As she lay there floating, she looked up into the sky and imagined written there in that glorious emerald green, the words of Thomas Carlyle: “This world, after all our science and sciences, is still a miracle, wonderful, inscrutable, magical, and more to whosoever will think of it.” Such words as these always made her soar to the heights. Why, because in her heart, she knew them to be true through experience.

*She allowed the rhythm of it all to draw her out further through the river. Like a choreographed water ballet, she slowly lifted one arm and stretching it up and behind her, brought it down in one sweeping gesture through the welcoming waters and then with the other arm, did the same ~ a perfect Zen moment ~ a perfect Feng shui moment. She swam for a while like this, alternating floating with back strokes. Then doggie paddling, she headed back to shore. She was perfectly all alone in this wonderful water world of hers.*

The female now lay lazily on the sand, exhausted, with her eyes closed. She was completely attuned to all inner and outer stimuli and it was almost painfully beautiful to her. Suddenly, this magnificent seagull from out of nowhere, it appeared, swooped down beside here. He cautiously edged closer and closer until he was almost upon her. He peered down and stared intently into her face and his left wing ever so gently and hesitantly began to caress and caress and caress her almost revealed breasts. He heard her breathing and felt the drumming of her beating heart and her hot breath mingling with the air between them.

He somehow sensed such a strange familiarity about her, this strange creature, this strange female. Her mouth then curled upward in a smile. “I know who you are” she whispered to him, her heart soaring, as she looked deeply into his eyes, while smoothing and smoothing out his feathers. That glorious seagull in that moment felt a rush of something flowing through him which he was unable to name ~ how could a seagull, even one such as this, put a name to Joy!

He then slowly, though unwillingly, removed his wing from her breasts. He carefully planted a kiss on her cheek with his beak. He gave her one final look, whispered “Goodbye”, flapped his marvelous wings and soared and soared into the twilight sky ~ almost it seemed ~ toward that one lone star which hung suspended there. It appeared as though his shadow could be seen silhouetted against that she-moon slipped into a sky’s green pocket as he flew higher and higher. As the female looked up, tears streaming down her face, she saw etched under his left wing, the exquisite golden amber of two letters ~ M M. She could be heard to whisper “I knew it!” as then tears of deeply-penetrating gratitude collected on her face. The seagull then dipped his left wing as if to wave goodbye and was off into his present moments, disappearing into that ethereal green emerald space.

Some time later, as the female lay on the beach, she heard the great roar of exploding water rising up through the depths of the Danube and a great splash descended upon her. She stood up, looking around her fearfully, and an incredible sight met her eyes. A tree, the most incredible, majestic and beautiful she had ever seen, was slowly rising up out of the water in the distance. It grew taller and taller and taller, taking on different shades of green, as it soared into the space surrounding it, until it commanded, if that was even possible, the very presence of the Danube itself. Its trunk was of the deepest shade of coffee, of which she could almost detect a faint breeze of that aroma. The branches along with the leaves of this seemingly other-dimensional tree hung low and swayed and danced, round and round, with the currents of air and river. “Behold the tree” she thought to herself. She also seemed to have detected a slight bow of the tree as she said those words.

An unbelievable thing happened next but in total harmony with all that had been happening. One of the branches swiftly extended itself and made its way through the river all the way until it reached the beach. There, it gently wrapped itself around and around the waist of the trembling female who screamed in terror. It swooped her up and carried her through the air all the while never loosening its grip on her. The female at some point began to relax and let go of her fear, laughing and becoming increasing enthralled at this fresh, never-before experience, looking all around her, seeing space and time in a way which she had never seen it before. “Well, she thought to herself, carpe diem!” and roared with laughter.

She found herself to be perched on the highest point of this magnificent tree as if a swing seat made of wood had been created for her. She heard the deep rumbling voice of Something as it questioned her: “What do you think of all this so far? She could give no response. How could she?! She remained silent but oh so attentive as she took it all in.

The voice, after some minutes had passed, asked her again: “What do you see?” But only the Silence and her beating heart could be heard. Again, the voice asked her: “What do you see?” Her answer came amid a flood of emotions and tears streaming down her cheeks. “I see ONLY NOW. I see that I AM. THIS is ALL that I see.” as the tears continued flowing. Then, as an afterthought, "oh, I see how incredibly incredible life can be. Is any of this Real? A little offshoot of a branch lower down began to giggle to itself. So she joined in with it.

The voice, in unison with a great soft gentle branch closing in on her, which wrapped itself around her and hugged her to it, asked again: “What do you see NOW?” She hesitated at first but then as she looked out into the distance toward the shoreline, she could see two figures walking hand in hand together slowly dissolving as if into dust. Her voice trembling, she managed to get out the words ~ “I feel loved, I am loved!” ~ as if knowing this reality, though not for the very first time, but as a reality, for the first time, which she discovered descended deeper and deeper, into the very essence of the place where she “lived”, the place where she had her “true” Being.

The female then found herself alone on the beach, as if awaking from a dream. But this was no dream she knew as she sadly watched and heard that magnificent tree slowly descending back into the depths of the Danube, deeper and deeper, its branches like wonderful limbs swaying, flowing, and ebbing to the rhythm of fluid time and space. She watched as one of the branches slowly swayed back and forth in space, as if waving goodbye to her. She sadly waved back at it. Then it all disappeared, leaving the female alone on the beach, in tears, but they were hot tears of gratitude.

After a long while of reflecting on her experience, she decided to simply allow it to be. How could she do otherwise, she mused. She then turned around, walking away from Bela Stena, though knowing that a piece of herself, a piece of her heart, would remain there forever. The female thought that she heard a magnificent haunting cry of a seagull somewhere closeby. Perhaps it was simply her imagination. She smiled in her heart then.

Glancing back, she blew it all a kiss ~ and waved Good Bye.



*Edited on Monday, March 6, 2015*
Joseph Joubert ~~

It is better to debate a question without settling it than to settle a question without debating it.


The aim of an argument or discussion should not be victory but progress.


“We love repose of mind so well, that we are arrested by anything which has even the appearance of truth; and so we fall asleep on clouds.”


You have to be like the pebble in the stream, keeping the grain and rolling along without being dissolved or dissolving anything else.
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Re: Reflections on a theme in Bela Stena

Postby Erik_ » Fri Apr 17, 2015 2:51 pm

I have an ideal location I'd like to be too: Oregon, somewhere in a lush forest, with mountains and streams, in Oregon.

The hustle-and-bustle of everyday life, in cities or towns, makes such places desirable, even divine.

Have you ever tried painting your visions? I imagine that if you acquired a proper technique for solidifying your visions, your art would be magnificent.
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Re: Reflections on a theme in Bela Stena

Postby ended6 » Mon Apr 20, 2015 5:01 am

I like the city grime, constantly surrounded by all the nut cases and weirdos, it's exciting! If you maintain close proximity allowing for a collection of their weaknesses, you can play a fun game, a constant one, of course ..it can often become a beautiful expression of human psychology, a canvas of dripping paint, an increasing decay. I use to imagine myself living wonderfully in a remote ideal location, until I realized that would be heavily boring! The mind can often deceive oneself and make things appear to be greater than they actually are...

I consider it to be a type of death, a modern death of sorts brought on by being exposed to too much chaos, over flowing the mind's capacity for organization, the dream world becomes ever so appealing at that point, which can be seen as the other side of modernity which increases the decay and spreads the virus. Now, well, now I show my face, I choose to look directly into the real and build my awareness of it, upon it. I use to shy away and play by myself, blocking out the calling, if you will. Head down, hands in my pocket, oh you know, just kicking up some dust.... A slumber, a house of confusion. I could feel the body heat of the strangers passing by, various levels of friction. I refused to look anymore because i realized i wasn't really looking, but just seeing...something....

I came to the understanding that I must clean myself, and through my cleaning I will be given new eyes. It sounds very religious doesn't it? Think of Claudia's awakening when her tongue absorbs the sweet taste of blood as her teeth gently pierce her victim's skin. The cleaning is a separation, of the mind, to wash all the filth off me, all the lies and the misery, a refinement.

A new beginning, to cultivate an order where i can move freely on the playing field with a protection from infection and vermin, if i choose to feed and become a warrior of horror and a monstrous monstrosity, who will ever stop me in this barren land? Somewhere deep in the hidden pockets of my essence, I always knew it would be like this, I just had to reach in and open my hand to the world....

Who will take? .... How much will they take?
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Re: Reflections on a theme in Bela Stena

Postby Orbie » Mon Apr 20, 2015 3:44 pm

You'd be surprised the amount of takers ot there. The dreams pushed aside, incongruently, deftly turning pages, and the chaos is out there admittedly, all the fun of the tipsy tipsy turn of the neighberhood.
Funny though as Stella told me, where the fantastique is brushed aside in favor of fantasy, and Stella knows or knew used to be called bela, and bela has weird references like places on rivers, the Mississippi slowly flowing south to meet the Gulf of Mexico, the Merrimack of old Massachusetts , infamous lair of Dr Sax, which assumedly should by all to be known, waltzing Matilda on Danube faire,
References put upon, and thus so quietly floes the
Don. Rivers , all of which down the annals of history, capture it all, the banks receding in a photo play of eternity, into which no one can their foot be submerged twice. above and beyond reference, memory, the slightly amorously receptive little shivering bird , a whisp really, the river left it there away from its nest, it's breezy dawn like silk on an open ended road sometime, to somewhere , glowing to fade.
[size=50][/size]Allone's Obe issance



In answer to your prayer
sincere, the centre of
your circle here,
i stand ; and , without
taking thought,-
i know nothing. But i can

Full well your need-as
you be men
This: Re-Creation. With a
bow,
Then, your obedient

servant now.
One gift is all i find in me,
And that is faithful
memory
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Re: Reflections on a theme in Bela Stena

Postby ended6 » Wed Apr 22, 2015 7:00 pm

Oh beautiful chaos, is order worthy of such a thing? Is sleeping beauty only beautiful when she is sleeping, or is it just a beastly requirement, so when the nature of the beast roams free, will he not provide a new pathway for when she skips joyfully through a wonderful dream world, such a happy place, waking her up and asking for consent will only disturb such peace, it's best just to get on with it ..I have a feeling, when she awakes, she is no longer beautiful and the beast, well, he's no longer a beast, a court case in modern times, ah Mannequin takes her pants off, she better get her hands off before I create the stand off...Do all the drunk women of the midnight intentionally lose their shoes hoping one day a handsome fellow will return them, I wonder what else they will have to lose before their dreams come true..

How often did Prince Charming try on the lost shoe before reluctantly passing it back to Cinderella? Do the dead devils weep when the knife in my hand shines with laughter, the dripping blood reflects a question, am I God's son or Lucifer's father? If I was always gone before the witches call me home, the world would only despair and nobody will occupy the throne. The intensity of the murder scene brings a bonding to the officers, and the coffee, well, that's a nice touch, two sugars please! Banished into the damaged and tarnished, the masking of the Mannequin blanking you into the vanish, the advantage of the heartless to expand my palace to perish the harness of the harmless, Caligula inspired, to be the ruthless one, make a cartoon out of doom playing as Medusa's son. Will mother be proud? Will she open the devotion reigning supreme in the sky, a final resting place where statues come to life and portraits cry.

As I navigated swiftly through the streets of Paris, I suddenly became flabbergasted at the ghastly sight of an old man basking handsomely in the sun. His fashionable pants were sparkling and unimaginably enhanced drastically capturing the brilliance of the flashing flying martians. .I halted, he said what do you require, squire? The magnificence of ignorance, I replied! I'm here to present a blade to you, then I'll aid you, who's paying you, stranger? He said...I dashed away rendering his thoughts obsolete, if his dreams come true you will hear his screams come through. Engineered his incapacity, with no energy his soul will be exposed at the next assembly. He use to call himself the challenger, did he use to travel the skies? The seven heavens were suppose to be a wonderful surprise..oh-so-adventurous, a timeless war, the longest war I have ever longed for.

We kings now, we sing now, the red carpets are rolled, he use to reappear looking stunning like Elvis in gold. We would retreat into the fleet, laughing at defeat, put holes in all souls, we'd say! The present decadence became a lovely treat each day. Blood, wounds and scars in this rapture, the earth falls upon the church walls to rob the ancient men of the next chapter. So they ran, they stumbled until the misery laid before them, approached by horrendous visitors, a bunch of zealous religious figures who confined them to signatures. Magical wands, blood bonds, voodoo songs with ginger and crisps, you drunkard gluttons what kind of conduct is this?

if this crucial criteria is mutual, then it's suitable, vital and futile, i'd say! Rule one, You must not present distortions to the blissful thoughts of the useful citizens who play a major role in the construction of the future, otherwise you will be dunked until you have sunk into the sewers with rats, never to rise to see the light of day again and if all else fails, then you will be slayed like that.
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Re: Reflections on a theme in Bela Stena

Postby Orbie » Wed Apr 22, 2015 7:37 pm

Irony total, eclipse of the Son, when the limits are approached. The dagger of fear stings the heart, as it makes it bleed at the ulcerated wound, as it nears closer and closer to it's origin. Blinking by sudden exposure to the light, and stumbling as the abyss
retreats between ,beauty ,refusing an escape through re-entry, caught , the beast, through
heaven and hell,
They reverse roles, as one becomes the other, a reverse image yet in visage, but alas not yet in form.
[size=50][/size]Allone's Obe issance



In answer to your prayer
sincere, the centre of
your circle here,
i stand ; and , without
taking thought,-
i know nothing. But i can

Full well your need-as
you be men
This: Re-Creation. With a
bow,
Then, your obedient

servant now.
One gift is all i find in me,
And that is faithful
memory
Orbie
partly cloudy, with a few showers
 
Posts: 7596
Joined: Sat Jun 16, 2012 6:34 pm
Location: Night of infinite faith

Re: Reflections on a theme in Bela Stena

Postby Arcturus Descending » Mon Apr 27, 2015 2:39 pm

Primal Rage wrote:I have an ideal location I'd like to be too: Oregon, somewhere in a lush forest, with mountains and streams, in Oregon.

The hustle-and-bustle of everyday life, in cities or towns, makes such places desirable, even divine.

Yes, the woods and the forests are beautiful. I can gaze up at a mountain for hours - they are transcendent and they seem to put us in touch with ourselves - as so much of nature and the world does.
My ideal place to be is Vermont. Or a shack on the beach in Bela Stena or a shack on the beach before an ocean - whether it be a still one or a wild one. Both are needed at different times. lol


Have you ever tried painting your visions? I imagine that if you acquired a proper technique for solidifying your visions, your art would be magnificent


It once took me three hours to sketch a picture of a snake plant i used to have. lol. I enjoyed every minute of it and it was good but 3 hours?!

I'm not really an artist, Erik. My stream of consciousness ran away with my imagination as I wrote that story and I closed my eyes and reflected for quite awhile before all of those colors came together for me in my mind. I can still see that beautiful vision - beautiful to me anyway. But I can't see how I could possibly paint that picture - put it onto physical canvas, short of the physical canvas of ilp, simply because i could put it into words.

So, I don't know how you could possibly say that my art would be magnificent. But thank you.

I actually had a lot of fun creating/composing that story even though it was also hard work. Much of it did though make me laugh out loud. There were also some very tender moments which I felt there. Bela Stena was a place that I simply had to return to - along with that magnificent seagull. It was also a gift.
Joseph Joubert ~~

It is better to debate a question without settling it than to settle a question without debating it.


The aim of an argument or discussion should not be victory but progress.


“We love repose of mind so well, that we are arrested by anything which has even the appearance of truth; and so we fall asleep on clouds.”


You have to be like the pebble in the stream, keeping the grain and rolling along without being dissolved or dissolving anything else.
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Re: Reflections on a theme in Bela Stena

Postby Arcturus Descending » Wed Apr 29, 2015 3:05 pm

mannequin

I like the city grime, constantly surrounded by all the nut cases and weirdos, it's exciting! If you maintain close proximity allowing for a collection of their weaknesses, you can play a fun game, a constant one, of course ..it can often become a beautiful expression of human psychology, a canvas of dripping paint, an increasing decay. I use to imagine myself living wonderfully in a remote ideal location, until I realized that would be heavily boring! .


I can almost completely understand what you’re saying. There are all different kinds of people and many of them are more interesting than others, especially more interesting than your everyday run-of-the- mill type who think they are far better than those you seem to like to be around. I like to sit and observe human nature too.

Do you sketch or paint? Have you ever taken the time to sketch or paint, to capture one of these people let’s say within their existential angst? What fun game are you speaking of here – or are you talking about painting an imaginative portrait of them?

Just for the record, you do realize that my story of Bela Stena came from my imagination - it's fantasy except for the name and the Danube. But I am not so sure that I couldn't live there for a much longer time though. But there is more to life than the beach and water - there are other wonderful environments which speak to us and serve us - and which we must also serve.


The mind can often deceive oneself and make things appear to be greater than they actually are..


Oh, yes, the mind is fully capable of that. It can also make things appear to be lesser than they actually are. We sometimes give ourselves more than we deserve and at other times, less than we deserve.


I consider it to be a type of death, a modern death of sorts brought on by being exposed to too much chaos, over flowing the mind's capacity for organization, the dream world becomes ever so appealing at that point, which can be seen as the other side of modernity which increases the decay and spreads the virus.


It isn’t just a type of death but a type of ongoing dying. When you think about it, it is really a sad thing. We creatures need to be tough when we have to be but allow for weakness also when it calls for us.


Now, well, now I show my face, I choose to look directly into the real and build my awareness of it, upon it. I use to shy away and play by myself, blocking out the calling, if you will. Head down, hands in my pocket, oh you know, just kicking up some dust.... A slumber, a house of confusion. I could feel the body heat of the strangers passing by, various levels of friction. I refused to look anymore because i realized i wasn't really looking, but just seeing...something....


Is the above real or were you just waxing poetic here? You are a really good writer, you know.

Tell me, how do you know that what you are looking at and see is "real" and not just how you choose to be seeing it?
I've also seen the real and then at a latter time came to realize that it was only what I wanted to see. Reality as WE SEE IT is capable of change you know.


I came to the understanding that I must clean myself, and through my cleaning I will be given new eyes. It sounds very religious doesn't it?


No, not religious, just psychological. Why does everything have to be looked on as religious? :evil:
How did you or how are you "cleaning" yourself?


Think of Claudia's awakening when her tongue absorbs the sweet taste of blood as her teeth gently pierce her victim's skin
.
Who is Claudio? :oops:

The cleaning is a separation, of the mind, to wash all the filth off me, all the lies and the misery, a refinement.

What are you separating the mind from? And can you?
Aside from that, don't be so hard on yourself.


A new beginning, to cultivate an order where i can move freely on the playing field with a protection from infection and vermin, if i choose to feed and become a warrior of horror and a monstrous monstrosity, who will ever stop me in this barren land? Somewhere deep in the hidden pockets of my essence, I always knew it would be like this, I just had to reach in and open my hand to the world....


Can you please clarify that for me?

Who will take? .... How much will they take?


That would depend on you. You have to be discriminating.
Compassion requires forethought, discrimination and balance. It has to be more than simply feeling. Otherwise, it's simply about one feeding off one's own self.
I don't know what else you were speaking of here.
Joseph Joubert ~~

It is better to debate a question without settling it than to settle a question without debating it.


The aim of an argument or discussion should not be victory but progress.


“We love repose of mind so well, that we are arrested by anything which has even the appearance of truth; and so we fall asleep on clouds.”


You have to be like the pebble in the stream, keeping the grain and rolling along without being dissolved or dissolving anything else.
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