Jibby!'s photostream  

I think I'm starting to alienate people with my recent gravity of thought. Visits and comments are becoming more rare.

Of course, it doesn't help that I haven't been out there commenting myself. I'll get back out there, really. I've just been way too busy to pay most of my contacts the time they deserve.

See you soon, really. In the meantime, I'm going to put up some portraits and stuff over the next week, some old, some newer.

This is one of them, which you probably already figured out. But did you figure out that this was taken the same day as the stained glass window photo right before this one? Did ya? Huh?

On August 3rd, 1929, a man named Jiddu Krishnamurti met with the people who had been raising him as a messiah for most of his life. He was barely into his 30s, yet this group of people believed him to be a great teacher, and a future shaper of the world. He had been groomed to be their leader, and the leader of many others. I have no doubt they assembled before him on that day, eager to hear what wisdom he might impart.

This is an excerpt of what he told them:

I maintain that truth is a pathless land, and you cannot approach it by any path whatsoever, by any religion, by any sect. That is my point of view, and I adhere to that absolutely and unconditionally. Truth, being limitless, unconditioned, unapproachable by any path whatsoever, cannot be organized; nor should any organization be formed to lead or coerce people along a particular path. ... This is no magnificent deed, because I do not want followers, and I mean this. The moment you follow someone you cease to follow Truth. I am not concerned whether you pay attention to what I say or not. I want to do a certain thing in the world and I am going to do it with unwavering concentration. I am concerning myself with only one essential thing: to set man free. I desire to free him from all cages, from all fears, and not to found religions, new sects, nor to establish new theories and new philosophies."

With that statement, he dissolved the religion they had built around him. As you can imagine, this is a lesson his followers never expected to learn, yet it was the greatest lesson Krishnamurti could give them. The group quickly splintered, never to be the same again. Their "messiah" went on to be a teacher indeed, but more than anything else he asked questions, and rarely gave answers. As to his greatness, that is a matter of opinion. He would find himself unremarkable.

Factions, be they political, religious or both, artificially divide us. As I said in an earlier conversation in the photostream of one of my contacts, "We did not create poetry. Poetry created us."

I'd forgotten that for quite some time, at least emotionally, and surprised myself by saying it, but I wanted to repeat it here mostly for myself. These days it is pretty much the extent of my "religion."

I have lived most of my life inside my head, more than in the world itself. Neither way is easy, but I think we owe it to ourselves to try both, and give each our very best effort. I still seek that poetry, that truth without a path, but I find the journey is enough to make me a better person, without having to know the whole truth.

My brief manifesto is over.

Work was absolutely butt-kicking today, and I'm behind on sleep, so here's Arial again.

I have some concept photos I really want to do, but also some writing I absolutely need to do, so I don't know how soon I'll be doing some new stuff. There's so little time. I think I'll win the lottery this weekend and take it a little easier.

I have returned from Paradise.

My sister is my mother's caregiver and she needed some time away, so I took some vacation time and went down to spend time with the maternal unit while my big sis soaked in Hawaiian hedonism.

She more than deserved the break. If there's a heaven and people have to earn it, she's a shoe-in. I respect and admire her, and her humanity, more than she knows, because I absolutely suck at giving compliments.

Which is why I probably deflect them when they're directed at me. I think the two are related, but I've just spent twelve hours in airports and airplanes to get too contemplative.

It was good to see my Ma, but it brings up all kinds of stuff that you won't hear about in any detail here. At least not yet.

But hey, all the airline-ing and flying gave me the chance to read a Kurt Vonnegut novel I hadn't read since the 80s. It's good to rediscover an old favorite master.

And damn! It's good to post a photo again, even if it's and old one and I don't even know where it was taken. I'm missing photography and need to whip up something really cool pretty soon.

The writing went pretty well. Didn't accomplish as much as I'd hoped but made some serious strides.

OK, I think I need to become comatose for a while now. I'm about as tired as a political platitude near the end of an election.