Go as yourself.|
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Mental Nudists' LiveJournal:
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|Saturday, October 22nd, 2005|
Hell on Earth
Do we really need a hell? Isn't Earth enough? This world seems set up solely to maximize the suffering of its inhabitants. I see the evil that people work. I see the evil that I have worked. Everyone is guilty. People are not moral creatures. They never were. Sometimes we pretend. We like to think that we our good outweighs are evil. Claim to have some sort of "moral foundation". But moral foundations just become a justifications for other evil works.
Humans aren't the only players here, Nature is a extremely evil bitch on her own. The wild is not some sort of paradise. Most of the animals in the forest have been completely traumatised and terrified. Horrible things routinely happen to everyone in the wild. Life is short, swift, painful, and brutal. Suffering comes to all.
Is there a point to this? Is there a reason or a point to this world, to this existence. If there is somewhere such a reason, it had better be a pretty damn good one. Any entity or entities that caused this to be have some serious explaining to do.
Sure good things happen now and again, but they only serve to get hopes up so it will be that much more devastated when everything comes crashing down. The best thing that could happen for Earth would be it's destruction. An large enough asteroid to obliterate all life would nice. Maybe we can just nuke the hell out of ourselves. Will the end come anytime soon? Will Kevorkian save our souls? I do not know, but I can hope. Current Mood: exanimate
|Tuesday, March 29th, 2005|
The Blue Mountain Center of Meditation - Learn to meditate
Meditation is at the center of the program, supported by seven disciplines that will help you to deepen your meditation and transform your life. The teachings will help you sharpen concentration, deal effectively with stress, release deep reserves of energy, transform anger, and learn to love more fully than you had thought possible. As a result you can discover your unique contribution to life.
The full Eight Point Program is:
1. Meditation (http://www.nilgiri.org/nilgiri.cfm?pageid=2
Silent repetition in the mind of memorized inspirational passages from the world’s great religions. Practiced for one-half hour each morning.
2. The Mantram (http://www.nilgiri.org/nilgiri.cfm?pageid=3
Silent repetition in the mind of a Holy Name or a hallowed phrase from one of the world’s great religions. Practiced whenever possible throughout the day or night.
3. Slowing Down (http://www.nilgiri.org/nilgiri.cfm?pageid=4
Setting priorities and reducing the stress and friction caused by hurry.
4. One-Pointed Attention (http://www.nilgiri.org/nilgiri.cfm?pageid=5
Giving full concentration to the matter at hand.
5. Training the Senses (http://www.nilgiri.org/nilgiri.cfm?pageid=6
Overcoming conditioned habits and learning to enjoy what is beneficial.
6. Putting Others First (http://www.nilgiri.org/nilgiri.cfm?pageid=7
Gaining freedom from selfishness and separateness; finding joy in helping others.
7. Spiritual Companionship (http://www.nilgiri.org/nilgiri.cfm?pageid=8
Spending time regularly with others following the Eight Point Program for mutual inspiration and support.
8. Reading the Mystics (http://www.nilgiri.org/nilgiri.cfm?pageid=9
Drawing inspiration from writings by and about the world’s great spiritual figures and from the scriptures of all religions.
Naturally, certain disciplines will be easier for you than others. Give your best to each; that is all that is expected. Mahatma Gandhi suffered many setbacks in the campaign to free India, but he was never despondent. He often said, “Full effort is full victory.” Maintaining your enthusiasm, being regular and systematic in your practice – these really count.
This site is here to help you with your meditation as you practice the Eight Point Program. Go deeper and you will find selected teachings, spiritual passages, and related resources such as books, videotapes, and audiotapes on each of the disciplines.
New findings undermine basis of “race isn’t real” theory
Sept. 8, 2004
For years, mainstream scientists have said there are no real racial differences among people. Race is purely a “social construct” – in other words, it’s imaginary, some have argued.
But two new studies raise doubts about a key calculation on which this argument rests.
“The 99.9 percent number is pure nonsense,” wrote Michael Wigler, of Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory, New York, in a recent email. “I will not say anything more about it.” However, he added, “it is true that humans are more like each other than many other species.”
Wigler is a co-author of one of the two studies, which is published in the July 23 advance online edition of the prestigious research journal Science. In it, the researchers wrote that they were surprised to find large-scale differences in human DNA. “There is considerable structural variation in the human genome [genetic code], most of which was not previously apparent,” they wrote.
Some researchers don't think the new findings should change the 99.9 percent figure that much. “Taking all types of DNA variation into consideration and looking at the entire 'content' of the genome, I would now say we are 99.7-99.8 percent identical,” said Stephen W. Scherer of the Hospital for Sick Children in Toronto. Scherer co-authored another study, whose conclusions were similar to those published in Science. His was published in the Aug. 1 advance online issue of the research journal Nature Genetics.
Scherer declined to say whether he thinks the findings mean race is real.
Lander – a researcher who has been quoted in published reports giving the 99.9 percent figure, and who works with the Whitehead Institute in Boston – didn’t respond to phone calls and emails requesting comment for this story. His secretary said he was abroad.
Also unreachable was Craig Venter, chairman of the Institute for Genomics Research in Rockville, Md., U.S.A. He was president of a company whose research produced the 99.9 percent figure in 2001, Celera Genomics. He didn't return phone calls or repeated emails.
The Cold Spring Harbor team found that these changes affected the code for 70 genes. These included genes involved in Cohen syndrome – a form of mental retardation – as well as brain development, leukemia, drug resistant forms of breast cancer, regulation of eating and body weight.
The “race-isn't real” proponents have other arguments besides the 99.9 percent figure to back up their case. But that figure has become one of the most prominent pieces of their argument since about four years ago, when the number came out from scientists associated with the Human Genome Project, a 13-year program to map the human genetic code.
“Dogs and wolves are 100 percent identical but functionally different,” Entine added. “Rats are about 95 percent the genetic equivalent of humans. These are ridiculous statements, although technically accurate. The use of the 99.9 percent figure by the popular press and scientists is, frankly scandalous.”
Whether or not race is real, researchers said, it doesn’t mean one race is better than another. “Great abuse has occurred in the past with notions of 'genetic superiority' of one particular group,” Stanford University's Neil Risch wrote in the July 1, 2002 issue of the research journal Genome Biology. “The notion of superiority is not scientific, only political, and can only be used for political purposes.”
Whole Article: http://www.world-science.net/exclusives/exclusives-nfrm/040908_race.htm
|Saturday, February 7th, 2004|
I have not abandoned you
My lungs are full of stones
And no matter which way I move
They stay in place.
Watch my lips turn to plastic
As I run a race with time
On crippled legs
Crippled with fear.
In my mind's eye
Dwells a spark of kindness
Sour, larval kisses
From you, who is not really here with me.
Whether I can help it or not
Such things make me "pathetic" and "childish"
So just let me go.
I'll never revivify anyway.
Save me like an amputation [minus anesthetics]
As if a gentle touch would send us all to Hell.
I've lost the race
And now I'm sleeping in a landscape
Of only white and silver.
It's pretty like a rebellion
|Wednesday, January 28th, 2004|
It seems to me that lately more and more people are referring to themselves as "unemotional" (which in my mind is simply ignoring what you feel, but that's an entirely different topic). But it's an emotional double standard, I think. These people will say that nothing bothers them, nothing gets to them, judge you because you show your emotions; embrace them and aren't afraid of them but then their surface will crack and their emotions will leak through. This is perfectly fine to them because, being mostly "unemotional", it's okay for them to express their emotions occasionally. But it's a mortal sin for the emotional ones to do so and they get no sympathy, no compassion, just judgement and criticism. But the "unemotional" people expect to be coddled. Double standard. Hypocrisy, I think.
Does anyone understand what I'm trying to say? I'm just thinking and sometimes my thoughts get jumbled and only make sense to me. It would be nice though, if someone understood... Current Mood: thoughtful
|Wednesday, January 14th, 2004|
In most people nowadays...the age when curiosity just disappears is becoming younger and younger.
I find this most upsetting.
That is all. Current Mood: worried
|Tuesday, January 13th, 2004|
Before I lay me down to sleep...
This is something I wrote in my notebook a few days ago. It just kind of poured onto the paper seemingly while I wasn't even paying attention.
"Welcome, welcome," said the Black Widow to the fly. "How kind of you to visit."
"I really mustn't stay," said the fly to the Black Widow as it stepped into her web. "I've merely lost my way."
"We all lose our way in life at one time or another," the Black Widow replied as she placed a leg upon the fly to draw it further in. "But if we focus our minds and our hearts, we find our path once again." She drew the fly into her web a bit further. "But there are many temptations and distractions and evils lurking about. Don't you know this, little fly?"
The fly looked perplexed. It gazed up at the Black Widow, who now had four legs wrapped around it, and shook its head. "I'm not quite sure I know what you mean. Please, do be kind enough to explain. But quickly, for I fear I must be on my way."
"Why of course!" the Black Widow smiled. "I certainly wouldn't want to keep you from your destiny, little fly. I shall explain quickly.
"We can all be tempted by a pretty face and form or by wordly riches, you see. We can be distracted by inane activities meant to dull our hearts and minds and senses. And as for the evils, my dear little fly..." The Black Widow paused. They were deep into her web now. Six of her legs held tightly to the little fly; the little fly who looked up at her with such innocence and such trust.
"What about the evils?" asked the fly in a whisper.
"There exist heartless creatures that would prey upong your innocence, little fly. Creatures that will lull you with sweet words and make you believe they are a friend."
"Oh! How awful!" cried the fly as the Black Widow smoothly hung it upon the wall of her web.
"How awful indeed," the Black Widow murmured.
"But...how will I avoid these things and find my way once more after I have left you?" the fly asked the Black Widow.
The Black Widow smiled coldly as she injected the unsuspecting fly with her venom. She got very close to its face. "Some of us lose our way and never find it again. We are forever lost and then we are caught in a web from which we cannot escape because of one moment of indecision or one wrong decision made. Good-night, sweet little trusting fly. My, but you are a fool to have trusted me." Current Mood: listless
|Monday, January 12th, 2004|
Who am I?
I am whoever you want me to be
For what purpose do I exist?
I exist for whatever purpose you wish
Think of me what you will
Take from me what you will
It does not change who I am inside
I am and will always be
And who is that?
Everything, anything, and nothing
To everyone, anyone, and no one
Such is life
Such is how I am perceived
Such is who I am
|Saturday, January 10th, 2004|
Completely split. Fractured, fragmented, divided into two halves. One takes care of the basics, like walking and avoiding contact with hard and/or sharp surfaces. It takes control of the hands when typing or driving needs to be accomplished, it controls the mouth when "thank you" and "oops!" need to be spoken. It laughs at jokes it can't understand, it tenses with anger and flinches in pain, gyrates and moves and slides and crawls, rotates the eyes left and right so that the other half... The other sits at a desk somewhere damp and musty, pouring over drawings and insects and books and serums and samples and drugs and food and love and creates things.
It never blinks.
never leaves that space in the farthest corner of the mind, where it works relentlessly, insanely, tearing apart all the things you've forgotten, memories and dreams, passages and quotes, numbers, faces, lives, universes, recycling them and making them new, and the two halves work together like this, one completely physical, gathering observations and attempting normalcy on a social level to keep the other half from being locked in a padded cell, and the other invisible, unreachable, complex
I had an expirience today. I was in my car
and it was cold
and I needed gas
and so I drove
and minutes passed
and I couldn't remember where I was.
I was so absorbed in everything I was thinking there was no clarity
i just flew past everything and everyone and for a moment
i was losing my vision because the physical couldnt gather the visual and so
I miss people, most of my time is spent just missing people. Even people I never knew to begin with. Imaginary people, people I wish existed, or maybe do exist, and I'll forever regret never having met them somewhere. On line at the bank, maybe. At the next table in a cafe. I have these ideals, you know, but they are so unrealistic. I'm happy, but I'm not. That might be it, too. I'd like brown hair and soft skin sitting on a chair. Don't need a face. Don't need a body, even.
So I was in my car, and I had a purpose, but I caught myself wondering where the fuck I was going.
|Friday, January 9th, 2004|
Everyone talks to me as if I were a dish
So help yourself and spread the encephalitic joy
Let the egg whites flow from your mouth
In place of the lies
Sprinkle sugar on rotten fruits and meats
Until the taste is a cold, wet dizziness
Licking your spine with a diseased tongue
I vocalise gutturally
As you abuse my breast
I'll drive you insane as you point the way...
|Wednesday, January 7th, 2004|
Let us be this then...
an endless waltz in the shape of perfection.
yura yura yura yura...
Who needs reality when
we have the mirror images of hiragana?
No, no dignity.
No, no clear air.
In this sticky cocoon, I feel infactuated with
the dawn of a star so far away
it hurts to stare.
Passively watching in crystaline choking.
Yura yura yura yura yura...
All, let's dance that unstoppable waltz.
I'll try not to trample your cuticules. Current Mood: blah
|Monday, January 5th, 2004|
Frosted glass of my mind finds itself
splattered all over the floor.
I try desperately to reconnect the shards,
but they slip out of my wet hands
and become pinkishly opaque.
Pugnant panic combinedwith confusion swell
my lymphnoids and I cry.
As I look at these bloody fragments
of what used to be glass
I wonder quietly to myself
"where am I?" Current Mood: busy
|Friday, January 2nd, 2004|
We lay in bed together, and he put his head on my chest. He imitated the sound of my heart, with his tongue and hollow cheeks.
"Can you hear the murmur?"
"I cannot. Is it there all the time?"
He frowned, but kept his head placed firmly against me. He closed his eyes. I kissed his head, and felt whisps of his black hair tickling my nose.
We're both unhealthy, clutching too each other like dying animals, clicking or tongues and cooings at each other's health problems. His cold fingers, my headaches. His ADD, my heart....
|Wednesday, December 31st, 2003|
Blue fades to orange
The opposites of one another
Is it the end of the world?
It would seem like it
The colours with their backs turned against each other
They match the lights which reflect on the water.
This is the neighbourhood where the women without hands reside.
[no hands means no creation]
Around these ladies, I've been told to wear gloves
But I don't, because gloves will make my hands sweat and shrivel.
What could they possibly do?
Since they have no hands, they can't stone me or beat me.
This is a silly place. This is a tedious place.
As I make my way home, words beat the ears inside my mind until they bleed
And I can almost feel a rope around my neck
The swelling of my eyes and tongue, as well.
Is my nose bleeding?
Simply an illusion, just a daydream.
When I get home, should I cut off my hands?
Be a good little girl, turn the colour of the wall just like they said
Sit in the rickety chair, just like they said
Sit in that creaking thing and make it quiet somehow
I won't move a muscle, not even my eyelids.
I'm cutting them off, dicing them into pieces
And somehow, I'm supposed to make it so they don't even bleed... Current Mood: aggravated
|Monday, December 29th, 2003|
How I Think
I sit there, or lay there, with my eyes shut, thinking of nothing. Forcing no words to be spoken through my inner monologue. There may be some music playing, or chattering of children, but that would be it in the case of sound.
Then, all of a sudden, like a bullet, ideas are shot into my head from some force that I would imagine to be outside.
And after that...I broadcast them in any way I can.
...And that's why the ones I loved thought I could join the circus.
"We don't want you to get plastic surgery! Just put a bag over your head!"
You know, my life is a lot nicer without words analogical to those.
|Sunday, December 28th, 2003|
Here's your [f]earless [hypochondriac] leader.
I just had a great idea. For myself, for the time being. I am going to keep a notebook handy, and try to record as many things that go through my mind as possible, right as they are happening. Then, I will look back on each one, and pick out a few to make something of somehow.
Results will be posted here, and anyone else who wants to try this is more than welcome, I would LOVE to see.
Something that jekyll_de_hyde made me think of...
In Hinduism, Krishna taught that there is no love without hate for both reside in the same chakra in the body.
So for every person that you love, you will always hate them just a little, for whatever reason; and for every person that you hate, you will always love them just a little, simply because. The key is to let the love overpower the hate, however large or miniscule.
I find this something very important to think on. Current Mood: contemplative
|Wednesday, December 24th, 2003|
My last few minutes of coherence
Before consciousness is carried away
By a sea of mucus and saliva
A thousand little voices inside me scream
"KEEP US ALIVE"
And I will obey their command
Like the dog I am
I will keep those voices alive
By tearing you apart
Leaving you hanging by a thread
Until everything will make you shudder
Your blood won't even go down my throat
Your flesh comes right back up
I'm under control...
I'm under control in a morning that will never end.
I am a beast roaming the forest
I am a wildfire spreading fast
The wind blows gently
But I am fierce
As I fear myself
I am a child crying for care
I am a rainshower nurturing things to grow
The wind may rage
But I am caressing
As I cannot love myself Current Mood: indescribable
|Sunday, December 21st, 2003|
I was chasing dragonflies through the tall grass
Not minding the rashes that broke out on my legs.
I tried to ignore the greenflies and the mosquitoes
But the itching was too much, and I paused to scratch.
There were so many bites I had scratched raw.
I bled until I fell unconscious.
I boarded a train that rushed through colourful nothingness.
The conductor made announcements in a voice that sounded just like my own.
"True, true, every word that made my heart writhe and cry out was true.
It was because it was true that it felt so bad. I sleep until late in the day.
I dread the moment I will have to wake. I dread the sun, and I dread Mother's voice."
I tried to answer her back, but no sound escaped my mouth.
That is the way it should be, I suppose.
Acceptance, acceptance...how can I accept a thing that won't accept me?
Why can't I fight? Why do you snatch the weapons from my hands?
Why do you stealthily undo my armour? They're not too heavy!
They were for you, but we are of different sizes. Can't you even see that?
You may have poked out your eyes with a paintbrush as well, but I am more careful.
I see my dragonfly again, he's in my hands now. He's really mine.
Is this death?