About Creators
There is art , and there is art and art, and then there exists deep love
for the world — this is the maker and inventor of truth and beauty.
All lasting art is a creation of deep love for man and the world.
I cannot think of one in our history who has not been a lover of the world.
They reveal the nakedness, ridiculous rawness and the exposure of their soul. You have to be a lover of life and the world
to want to expose the nakedness of your soul to the world.
Ecce Homo—behold the Lover
Hail to you my love, my brother, my comrade.
You are welcome whoever you are.
for the world — this is the maker and inventor of truth and beauty.
All lasting art is a creation of deep love for man and the world.
I cannot think of one in our history who has not been a lover of the world.
They reveal the nakedness, ridiculous rawness and the exposure of their soul. You have to be a lover of life and the world
to want to expose the nakedness of your soul to the world.
Ecce Homo—behold the Lover
Hail to you my love, my brother, my comrade.
You are welcome whoever you are.
I have lived in exile among the sirens, mermaids, wild birds and dancers; they have chosen me and I embrace them as my home. I do not sit at the campfire of man or woman. I am a poet from the deep and love deeply from the mountains or the depths of the multiplying sea.
I have sat under the large oak tree with Socrates and told him that he should become a dancer. He smiled at me, transformed into a satyr and proceeded to seduce the wood nymphs. My beloved teacher did not see the net of the hunter while he was dancing and worshipping life. He chose love in life even upon his capture and death.
The net was thrown. It was called intellectual archery, corrupt courts, deceitful weakness in man.
Collective man has not been understanding towards the lovers of our world, rather our history has been murderous towards all the teachers, masters and lovers that seek truth, harmony and peace.
The net was thrown and Socrates was driven into the ground. Socrates should have stayed in the dance with the wood nymphs instead he wanted to return and teach the love for truth. He returned to sit at the campfire of man and he was netted by organized man, caught and bled.
Man - among all creatures, is the most problematic, the most frightening, most deplorable, and by far the most lovable one. i cannot swim or dance away from his deep insights, his deep tenderness and deep humanity; he has the capacity to harvest light. It is also important to state that there are more than one species of man. I will devote my creativity (which is love) to those that are from the seed of the seeker, the wanderer and to those who cannot return home for they have brought their home here, and now search and seek for pieces, fragments the recognition of the kindred soul.
We are scattered in a transcendental metamorphosis of migration. This migration is not going from one place to another, it is not a place on the map, it is a "divine longing" (St Augustine) to bring love into a world that has gone mad with either pain or indifference; the tension of being in the moment and seeking the hidden, to go further into the world of the navigator of the heart; to travel further into your life, to be in your life, to be in the world.
To bring three incompatibilities together, to be in the moment, to long for the hidden and to love eternity, "for I love you eternity" (Nietzsche), to go backward, and forward and to feed the moment vividly on all threads that weave the wholeness of life, such a man does not fear rejection, abandonment or betrayal neither does he seek acceptance and recognition, for he does not compromise the world of truth and beauty.
He lives in danger. For to remain innocent (not naïve) and devoted to the reverence and worship of life would make him a laughing object by the relativity of the world of "appearance", and yet this maker of love remains devoted and innocent by choice and destiny. Love lives here among devils and tormented souls. This maker of love has a certain child like belief and faith that the world is beautiful and that we should enjoy and dance. Like all innocent and devoted children he seeks to understand the mystery of the stars and the depths of the sea and even goes further — he then seeks to share the stardust and pearls from his soul journey with the rest of the world.
I have sat under the large oak tree with Socrates and told him that he should become a dancer. He smiled at me, transformed into a satyr and proceeded to seduce the wood nymphs. My beloved teacher did not see the net of the hunter while he was dancing and worshipping life. He chose love in life even upon his capture and death.
The net was thrown. It was called intellectual archery, corrupt courts, deceitful weakness in man.
Collective man has not been understanding towards the lovers of our world, rather our history has been murderous towards all the teachers, masters and lovers that seek truth, harmony and peace.
The net was thrown and Socrates was driven into the ground. Socrates should have stayed in the dance with the wood nymphs instead he wanted to return and teach the love for truth. He returned to sit at the campfire of man and he was netted by organized man, caught and bled.
Man - among all creatures, is the most problematic, the most frightening, most deplorable, and by far the most lovable one. i cannot swim or dance away from his deep insights, his deep tenderness and deep humanity; he has the capacity to harvest light. It is also important to state that there are more than one species of man. I will devote my creativity (which is love) to those that are from the seed of the seeker, the wanderer and to those who cannot return home for they have brought their home here, and now search and seek for pieces, fragments the recognition of the kindred soul.
We are scattered in a transcendental metamorphosis of migration. This migration is not going from one place to another, it is not a place on the map, it is a "divine longing" (St Augustine) to bring love into a world that has gone mad with either pain or indifference; the tension of being in the moment and seeking the hidden, to go further into the world of the navigator of the heart; to travel further into your life, to be in your life, to be in the world.
To bring three incompatibilities together, to be in the moment, to long for the hidden and to love eternity, "for I love you eternity" (Nietzsche), to go backward, and forward and to feed the moment vividly on all threads that weave the wholeness of life, such a man does not fear rejection, abandonment or betrayal neither does he seek acceptance and recognition, for he does not compromise the world of truth and beauty.
He lives in danger. For to remain innocent (not naïve) and devoted to the reverence and worship of life would make him a laughing object by the relativity of the world of "appearance", and yet this maker of love remains devoted and innocent by choice and destiny. Love lives here among devils and tormented souls. This maker of love has a certain child like belief and faith that the world is beautiful and that we should enjoy and dance. Like all innocent and devoted children he seeks to understand the mystery of the stars and the depths of the sea and even goes further — he then seeks to share the stardust and pearls from his soul journey with the rest of the world.
It is for this type of lover, this type of heart that I make myself ridiculous by exposing my soul (the softest and most vulnerable part of my forming and multiplying journey) to the kindred and the stranger.
Thank goodness that our heart is covered by ribs, skin and
clothes for if the barbarians saw the flickering tenderness of innocence
they would reach in and try to stop what makes the world of the lovers
of the world live and breathe.
Thank goodness that our heart is covered by ribs, skin and
clothes for if the barbarians saw the flickering tenderness of innocence
they would reach in and try to stop what makes the world of the lovers
of the world live and breathe.
Plato knew this when he said, "everything moves in the world because it is in love" Therefore this love is carried on the wings of the sparrows of our history, the butterflies of our dreams, the fertility of our human tears that we eat with our bread. In these tears of sorrow and joy is passed the seed of eternal recurrence. To make love over and over again, not in the image of ego, but universal love that binds and unites us to them and you to me until we become autonomous and whole. For what remains half cannot grow and what was not "mixed equally will die" (John Donne).
Without this maker of love we would be engulfed in total darkness, it is through this seed breathing life into all that is broken and scattered in the four compasses of our world, that we carry the seeds of each other in the darkest night of the soul
Love is not an intellectual experience, it is ALIVE. It is a seed that consumes and engulfs, a seed that grows with your body and beyond it. The seed of this love in life has invisible threads that connect to the hearts of the stars, and like all living things seeks to impregnate and cross fertilize the soul of others. It seeks to find its home in the human heart, in the human imagination, in the human spirit that rages "against the dying of the light" (Dylan Thomas).
It is also important to state that not all people can love. To want to be loved is different from loving man and the world. Many seek dependency on others because they are afraid to be alone, and this fear is translated as love. A lover will seek to explore the inner and outer worlds of the skin, the inner and outer worlds of organized activity, the inner and outer worlds of the impossible turned into a billion possibilities; These are the lovers and makers of great "art". For to make your life a work of love is a great art!
What "divine madness"! My feet are meant to be following the orders and plans of others - the culture, the gender, the social-economic, the assumption, the hypothesis, my place, position and time. A lover goes above and below all taught things that offer a "proxy" for living and loving. A maker of love goes beyond the shadow, rope and net and seeks autonomy and brotherhood in the world.
Damn my backward feet, they refuse to follow, they refuse to lead, instead I dance and dance to the sounds of a music that cannot be heard. I dance beyond the boundaries of organized and methodical, planned, rhetorical and emotional economics. I seek the whole not the half. Not the splinter of something shattered and broken.; I seek the whole.
Without this maker of love we would be engulfed in total darkness, it is through this seed breathing life into all that is broken and scattered in the four compasses of our world, that we carry the seeds of each other in the darkest night of the soul
Love is not an intellectual experience, it is ALIVE. It is a seed that consumes and engulfs, a seed that grows with your body and beyond it. The seed of this love in life has invisible threads that connect to the hearts of the stars, and like all living things seeks to impregnate and cross fertilize the soul of others. It seeks to find its home in the human heart, in the human imagination, in the human spirit that rages "against the dying of the light" (Dylan Thomas).
It is also important to state that not all people can love. To want to be loved is different from loving man and the world. Many seek dependency on others because they are afraid to be alone, and this fear is translated as love. A lover will seek to explore the inner and outer worlds of the skin, the inner and outer worlds of organized activity, the inner and outer worlds of the impossible turned into a billion possibilities; These are the lovers and makers of great "art". For to make your life a work of love is a great art!
What "divine madness"! My feet are meant to be following the orders and plans of others - the culture, the gender, the social-economic, the assumption, the hypothesis, my place, position and time. A lover goes above and below all taught things that offer a "proxy" for living and loving. A maker of love goes beyond the shadow, rope and net and seeks autonomy and brotherhood in the world.
Damn my backward feet, they refuse to follow, they refuse to lead, instead I dance and dance to the sounds of a music that cannot be heard. I dance beyond the boundaries of organized and methodical, planned, rhetorical and emotional economics. I seek the whole not the half. Not the splinter of something shattered and broken.; I seek the whole.
Have I gone too far? Not far enough!
Will they find me? Will they catch me?
Will they again throw their net over me
and drag me in like a creature freshly caught?
I think they have declared me mad,
which is better than being declared dead,
for the mad can speak with the dead;
for the mad can speak for the dead.
Will they find me? Will they catch me?
Will they again throw their net over me
and drag me in like a creature freshly caught?
I think they have declared me mad,
which is better than being declared dead,
for the mad can speak with the dead;
for the mad can speak for the dead.
The armies of those I love consume me and engulf me and I engulf them. They will not let me be until I go with them, respond to them. And bless the stars that swirl and form chaos in me and around me, for I charge full with all the force of my soul.
Did you see the star dust?
Did you see the light particles from this soul collision?
Did you see the seeds from eternity fly into the sky? And as they fall, young children, angels and tormented devils put them quietly under their tongues and keep them there. When it becomes totally dark and no light can be seen they will feed on the ancestors. In a childhood dream it was said that when you bite into these seeds from eternity they give light and heat to the heart, imagination and body.
This is the ‘eternal Progress’, the ‘eternal recurrence’, (unceasing and unbeginning - Plato). It does not refute human reason but surpasses the efforts of our good will and generosity of spirit to kindred and the stranger — "what has it got to do with you if I love you" (Goethe).
This becomes an essential part and stage of a vast cosmic process — the efforts of our good will, the creativity and makers of the Good, the maker and creators of love in the world. To postulate, to organize the world, to promote justice and peace, to abolish slavery, to increase the ever-threatened dignity of man, the entire code of social responsibilities that seems to appear from the mysteriously interwoven and an even wider program, a transcendental scheme, conceived and planned beyond this world but applied to it.
Love. The double faced, ideals and despair, the mediator between the visible and the invisible, connects the progressive with darker, more mysterious tones, hardly audible, sometimes and yet always powerful, echoing the tune of a secret message that has reached us - from where? Oh, the whisper of heavenly and earthly impossibilities, the touch of a mystical breeze, wafted soft and low, the music around us, caressing us like a phantom, the melodies of unseen rivers. Or is it the splashing of tears - the measureless waters of human tears?
Do we still recognize the lover?
There he stands, pensive and faltering, between joy and despair, between ideals and despair "for the living are the dead" or as T.S.Eliot wrote, "the dead make more sense than the living".
The lover of man and the world has the look of a somnambulist, at once penetrating and introvert, and the characteristic of children, madmen and tormented angels that have fallen here because they fell in love with the river of our tears. The world consists of "devils and tormented souls" but Schopenhauer forgot the angels, the children and the wild birds.
Recently a wild bird came to me for assistance. It had brought with it a world that I felt and knew from the depths of my psyche, a world of fragility and beauty; a truth and beauty that was not completely for this world. This wild bird was freshly caught by the hunter and the beauty of the hidden and unknown had fallen with it. I could still see and sense the stars from other worlds.
Did you see the star dust?
Did you see the light particles from this soul collision?
Did you see the seeds from eternity fly into the sky? And as they fall, young children, angels and tormented devils put them quietly under their tongues and keep them there. When it becomes totally dark and no light can be seen they will feed on the ancestors. In a childhood dream it was said that when you bite into these seeds from eternity they give light and heat to the heart, imagination and body.
This is the ‘eternal Progress’, the ‘eternal recurrence’, (unceasing and unbeginning - Plato). It does not refute human reason but surpasses the efforts of our good will and generosity of spirit to kindred and the stranger — "what has it got to do with you if I love you" (Goethe).
This becomes an essential part and stage of a vast cosmic process — the efforts of our good will, the creativity and makers of the Good, the maker and creators of love in the world. To postulate, to organize the world, to promote justice and peace, to abolish slavery, to increase the ever-threatened dignity of man, the entire code of social responsibilities that seems to appear from the mysteriously interwoven and an even wider program, a transcendental scheme, conceived and planned beyond this world but applied to it.
Love. The double faced, ideals and despair, the mediator between the visible and the invisible, connects the progressive with darker, more mysterious tones, hardly audible, sometimes and yet always powerful, echoing the tune of a secret message that has reached us - from where? Oh, the whisper of heavenly and earthly impossibilities, the touch of a mystical breeze, wafted soft and low, the music around us, caressing us like a phantom, the melodies of unseen rivers. Or is it the splashing of tears - the measureless waters of human tears?
Do we still recognize the lover?
There he stands, pensive and faltering, between joy and despair, between ideals and despair "for the living are the dead" or as T.S.Eliot wrote, "the dead make more sense than the living".
The lover of man and the world has the look of a somnambulist, at once penetrating and introvert, and the characteristic of children, madmen and tormented angels that have fallen here because they fell in love with the river of our tears. The world consists of "devils and tormented souls" but Schopenhauer forgot the angels, the children and the wild birds.
Recently a wild bird came to me for assistance. It had brought with it a world that I felt and knew from the depths of my psyche, a world of fragility and beauty; a truth and beauty that was not completely for this world. This wild bird was freshly caught by the hunter and the beauty of the hidden and unknown had fallen with it. I could still see and sense the stars from other worlds.
How do you touch a wild bird?
Why must we touch creatures that bring beauty and truth?
Why must we contain and domesticate them?
Is it because we think we can keep truth and beauty that we have not struggled to find and keep alive? Or are we collectors and hunters and seek to keep and obtain what we have abandoned in our lives?
When I lived in hiding, I heard a story
from a passing whisper in the wind and it remained with me.
This whisper is about truth and beauty and what the barbarian does with it.
Why must we touch creatures that bring beauty and truth?
Why must we contain and domesticate them?
Is it because we think we can keep truth and beauty that we have not struggled to find and keep alive? Or are we collectors and hunters and seek to keep and obtain what we have abandoned in our lives?
When I lived in hiding, I heard a story
from a passing whisper in the wind and it remained with me.
This whisper is about truth and beauty and what the barbarian does with it.
During the German madness and the world’s madness there was an incident that describes the hunt for the lovers of our world. A beautiful Jewish soprano was detained by a German Officer. He proceeded to tell her how much he admired her "art" and asked her to sing for him. The beautiful soprano sang for the German Officer, so deeply and longingly that she brought tears to his eyes. With her sensitivity and tenderness she had touched the core of him, her love had entered his world, her love had entered him. It was at this time he went close to her, took her hand to kiss it, and with the other hand placed a pistol to her heart and shot her.
I have always known what Heraclitus meant when he said,
"You must remain dark and obscure".
"You must remain dark and obscure".
I had no curiosity or desire to touch this wild bird of red and blue, of fire and sky. It came to me and we stayed together until I could no longer follow it with my eyes. We kept looking into each other, for we did not want to lose each other. We kept looking into each other until we both were born and died in each other. I believe that if you keep following the eyes of the dying some part of you will remain with them and some part of them will remain with you. This is what people mean when they say, "I do not want to die alone"
With a wistful sigh I responded, distraught and understanding, to the appeal of the "heavenly whisper" and then withdrew into my solitude with the presence of the wild bird. It followed me. It still lives.
With a wistful sigh I responded, distraught and understanding, to the appeal of the "heavenly whisper" and then withdrew into my solitude with the presence of the wild bird. It followed me. It still lives.
Does this mean that I followed it into death?
Does this mean that life has gone into death?
What a transparent veil exists.
Does this mean that life has gone into death?
What a transparent veil exists.
"We dream of voyages through the cosmos", but is not the cosmos in us? We do not know the depths or heights of our seeking and searching spirits, inward goes the mysterious road
Love is in us or nowhere
Inspiration is in us or nowhere
Tenderness is us or nowhere
Eternity is in us or nowhere.
Inspiration is in us or nowhere
Tenderness is us or nowhere
Eternity is in us or nowhere.
I am a tragic and shy poet and have come to realize that it is the poets and lovers, the dancers, the children, the madmen and wild birds that carry the "sight" into the concepts of death, life and future, salvation and dissolution, that merge in a vast meaningful identity. This is not nihilistic but a profound and paradoxical glorification of life; a reverence and worship of life and you cannot worship life if you are not a lover of innocence and devotion.
What madness to want to turn one impossibility into a billion possibilities, to want to find the fish in the sky and the bird in the sea, to love the unknown and the stranger, and even more divine madness to want to share and give these gifts of beauty and truth to others. Che Guevara once said to a journalist who was following him, "Why don’t you go and find a war that you will not win?”
The child and the creator, the maker of love, the "artist", were considered the immature or anomalous types of the human species, and yet it is they that are responsible for the chaos and forming of stars, the miracle of inspiration, and the divine madness of jumping over the abyss, or into the abyss to make a bridge for the generations to come. For it is only the child, the wild bird, the dancer, the maker of love that possess what most men have forfeited — faith and intuition.
What madness to want to turn one impossibility into a billion possibilities, to want to find the fish in the sky and the bird in the sea, to love the unknown and the stranger, and even more divine madness to want to share and give these gifts of beauty and truth to others. Che Guevara once said to a journalist who was following him, "Why don’t you go and find a war that you will not win?”
The child and the creator, the maker of love, the "artist", were considered the immature or anomalous types of the human species, and yet it is they that are responsible for the chaos and forming of stars, the miracle of inspiration, and the divine madness of jumping over the abyss, or into the abyss to make a bridge for the generations to come. For it is only the child, the wild bird, the dancer, the maker of love that possess what most men have forfeited — faith and intuition.
The lover is thoroughly transcendental
therefore an omniscient miniature cosmos.
therefore an omniscient miniature cosmos.
The artistic experience not only reaches back to the early stages of our human development but also anticipates our future evolution. The double perspective prophecy embraces beginning and ending as an entity. Life has been dreamlike; it will become dreamlike again, a magic ceremonial, innocent and serene as the play of children, logical and transparent as a crystal or a mathematical formula.
I wrote this while working on ‘Penelope and Ulysses’.
I was asked why I wrote the play of Penelope and Ulysses, I have remained "dark and obscure" by choice all these years. Why seek to put this play into production? It has been written and I can continue with other work that consumes me.
I can only answer this from the truth of my heart - The play is a work of love. I as a maker and weaver of love seek to return it to those that will gain the defiance to rage against the dying of the light.
It is my gift to our children.
I can only answer this from the truth of my heart - The play is a work of love. I as a maker and weaver of love seek to return it to those that will gain the defiance to rage against the dying of the light.
It is my gift to our children.