Have you ever felt like you were hearing sounds that were not actually there? Like your ears were “filling in” gaps?

It is actually quite normal and scientists at Maastricht University in The Netherlands are studying this mechanism by which the human brain “fills in” sound.

The human ear picks up on many sounds at a time and many different sounds compete for attention. When you focus on a single sound – say, someone talking – other sounds can interrupt it. When this happens, the brain may actually fill in information that your ears do not actually pick up. For instance, if a word is interrupted by a loud crash in the middle of someone’s speech, our brains seem to fill in the information that we missed, giving us the illusion that we heard the complete word.

Scientists say that this may influence the design of future hearing aids.

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/11/091125134655.htm

Ironie involuntară: joi după-amiază am vizionat – pentru prima dată, spre rușinea mea, recunosc – Oktyabr (Octombrie) de Serghei Eisenstein, film definitoriu pentru ceea ce va însemna manipularea și propaganda în secolul XX. Urmărind ce se întâmplă pe la unele televiziuni autohtone, realizez că nu s-au schimbat prea multe din 1927, afară de detaliile de ordin tehnic, bineînțeles.

Postscriptum Pentru curioși, „Octombrie” descrie așa-zisa „revoluție” bolșevică din octombrie/noiembrie 1917, văzută din perspectiva celor ce au avut câștig de cauză (se știu ei care sunt). Restul este doar istorie și GULAG.

I petition for eyes to see true,
to look upon the world as a compassionate man,
hearing beauty in each voice a loving kindness,
and may i feel full of service,
a love for all beings–
beloved invest me with your grace.

Descend upon me oh divine love,
shower me with light to turn away my shades of woe,
for all my hassles are illusion–
i only wish the strength to live a peaceful life.

My darling muse drives my quest,
striving for command of my self i struggle against my own madness,
and i have learned well by heaven’s great example,
the quiet sublime way of simple existence,
the moment of the tranquil smile–
i live for this realization,
my foundation of silent joy.

We are here to elevate you into a new understanding
to elevate your mind and conscious awareness
so that you might receive constant guidance from source in a clear manner
we are here to lead you away from the confusion
the conditioned darkness you have wandered in
and into a new way of being a new light to illuminate all problems
to bring forth goodness and love in a vibrant manner
so that all who come into your presence will be moved and touched by your healing power
this is the calling this is the life you can lead now
and this is the love you are here to be
thankfully, you are on the path to enlightenment because you have decided by your own desire this is what you want
this is where you are headed and this is the path that we continuously guide you toward for the benefit of all concerned
know that there is nothing that can separate you from the love of source
from the love of God from the love of who you are
because it is part of you
you are an extension indeed
but even more importantly you are filled with this love
it is simply a matter of letting go of resistance and giving into this love that fills you now
know that source is always present equally throughout your body throughout your mind throughout your circumstances throughout the universe
there is no lack of source no lack of love no lack of the presence and power of God anywhere
for as you know source is all present all power all knowledge and all love
there can be no lack of source anywhere
take responsibility for any shortage of what you want in life and figure out how to let go of your resistance your blocks
your uncertainty
figure out how to allow source to move freely through you so that you can fulfil that heart’s desire

know that no good thing will be kept from you
you must undue the conditioning undue the limits
you have put upon yourself
you must cleanse your mind and allow source to fill it with possibility potential love and hope
you must allow source to show you the truth apart from the illusion and insanity of modern-day thinking
let it go and allow source to elevate your consciousness to a new way of being a new way of allowing and a new way of thinking
let source fill your mind with beauty and passion let your mind be free to dream to love to endure with grace and gratitude
that all is well in this moment
and is always so
be sure to remember that now has everything you need
now has all the beauty joy and love you desire
if you would but allow it to come through
allow now

- Morning stream of consciousness writing from John Stringer

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I was wondering… Why do we like the situations and the people we like? Almost instantaneously I’ve thought about identical twins. They have the same genetic material, but still they like different things. It surely is not wired inside of us the things we like and the things we don’t. That is obvious for many  ones but it’s worth mentioning to proof my point.

Imagine two identical twins. One raised in the streets without his parents, having gone through many adoptive families, but none treat him well. The other raised in a big and happy family with caring and open minded parents. The first doesn’t trust anyone and his idea about a family is a bunch of old people who don’t like him because he’s an outsider. The other have friends he trust and his idea of a family is a bunch of caring people he can trust, like, play with, have support from, etc.

It’s worth noting that, genetically speaking, both had the same chances of being like the first or the second. But all the experiences and the capacity of the brain to learn from those experiences led the first to be the street boy and the second to be the family boy. It’s not new to anyone that our brain can learn from experiences and that those experiences can lead us to different assimilations and conclusions. The first boy concluded, by experience, that he’d only feel sad with a family, but the second concluded a totally different thing by experience: family, for him, is a necessty and he cannot imagine living without one.

There is one thing common to those two boys though. Their experiences with family were real world experiences. They happened: the first kid had adoptive parents that didn’t like him and the second one had a caring family. That doesn’t seem to be necessary. They didn’t have much control over the experiences because most of the things one does is influenced by others he cannot control. One may say that much of the experience one has that define his conclusions is based on luck. I agree with that since you cannot control your parents, your friends, people in the streets, etc. But… Why is there always a small group with two or three kids that never gives up? Kids just like the first twin: they have no reason to believe a family can be good to them and friends can be trusted. Why do these kids have this hope of a good family and a life with many friends? It’s not, surely, because of their direct experiences with families and friends because, as I’ve just said, their lives were just like the first twin’s.

Once I’ve read that our internal mind (the one that handles emotions, associations, human nature, etc.) cannot distinguish real from imaginary. For some reason, maybe it’s something these kids saw, these kids have a fantasy inside their minds they like so much to a point they don’t want it be screwd by outside forces. This fantasy is a story of them being happy with a family and friends. A fantasy filled with good emotions these kids believe will be triggered when they have a family around. They know it’s possible to feel that way because they’ve saw it once, but, unlike the first twin, these kids never gave up hope. They were able to fantasize to a point that made families look so good that made them really want one. So, the only difference between illusion and disillusion was the vanishement of the fantasy: the twin had his fantasy vanished by himself because he didn’t develop it very far, but the other kids did it and they still hope having a family to make that fantasy a reality.

Fantasy is powerful enough to make that twin a possible future killer and to make those other special kids, who fantasized, possible future filantropic leaders who will make sure all kids have families for themselves.

Such as disliking, liking is also an illusion (as you’ve just seen with the speical kids). Look at love for example. Sometimes we love people we don’t even know: we just look at them at distance. It is a fantasy we have associating that specific person with all sorts of good feelings that triggers reactions inside our bodies. When we start dating that person, we get to know him and, most of the times, we dicover that our fantasy is just a fantasy, that this person is not what we thought he was and, then, the love vanishes (desillusion).

Mature people (regardless of their age) learn to not rush into conclusions about people after living such an experience. They see a person. They start to like him and they remember, almost instantaneously, that that happened in the past. They also remember the consequences and the bad feelings that can happen in the long term if they let this fantasy take over. So, this time, they decide to take a logical approch to it, which, in theory, won’t hurt their feelings, but besides being hard to accomplish, it won’t please their feelings either. Most of the times, they end up “failing” and beating themselves because they’ve done it again: they’ve let the fantasy take over again and when they really learn who the person is, the fantasy vanishes (that is pretty common among women). When a fantasy vanishes from a person’s mind, this person says that he suffered from a desillusion.

Some people manage to take the logical approach sucessfully for a while. The results are not that good most of the times because since there is no fantasy anymore, you have a relationship based on logic (no drive for sex, doing things together for obligation, etc.). It’s not natural for us to be with someone just because of logic. The result is that the fantasy happens again, but with someone else.

In another document I have, I talk about a rule that says when you have two things contrasted against each other, you tend to over-estimate the difference if the contrast is too big (e.g. contrasting a ugly woman with a pretty woman will make the ugly look uglier and the pretty look prettier). I also have in that document another rule saying that when we got used to a certain aspect of a situation, that becomes the standard (e.g. thin woman as being the beautiful ones). The standard is what we use to contrast most of the things we see everyday. So, when you enter in a relationship based on logic and no good emotions (no thrill, no adrenaline, no love: nothing) and be in it for a while, that becomes your standard for relationship. When another fantasy comes into your mind that shows you the possibility of a relationship full of those emotions you don’t and want to have, there is a huge (really huge) contrast between the possible relationship and and your current relationship. That makes you over-estimate the good side of the possible relaitonship. When one gets to this point, you can expect all sorts of things:

• betray,
• rage against his partner,
• pure cold ending of relationship accepted by both sides,
• that idea of running away from everyone and being happy together in another city,
• etc.

The point is that the things we like, we like because we make fantasies about them. We tell stories about them to ourselves. Good stories. Stories filled with great emotions. For example, a medieval war is one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever seen, yet many kids like to pretent they’re a medieval knight in some of those wars; they tell themselves the story of a knight who has adventures and all sorts of good feelings happens there. If you throw a kid into a real medieval war, the fantasy will, almost surely, vanish and a desillusion will happen.

I hope that, if you’re reading this, you kept your mind openned and did not rush into conclusions about how bad that is because, in fact, it is not. If you can learn how to control your fantasies, you can make reading the most thrilling thing in the world: just fantasize about it. How? Great question, but I don’t know the best answer. Maybe, just by mentally telling yourself a story of how thrilled you felt when you were reading a guide teaching you how to use a new technique to design software better. I do it all the time and it works.

P.S.: I cannot prove one single theory here. Believe it by your own risk.

… [my life] must ride on it’s own melting. (Robert Frost)

I do not want to be owned by anyone.
I do not want to be dragged around by people so invested that they can’t see straight.
I do not need you, I do not need him, I do not need these things that cannot create their own happiness so bask in and steal from mine.
I do not like people who are so insecure that they cannot stop testing.
You would not pass all of mine.
I do not understand people who cannot step outside of themselves and reflect on their words or perspective or life.
I do not think that we are weak, I do not think that we are dependent.
I think we are courageous because we care and we empathize and in that ability lies a vulnerability that is devastatingly frightening.

You could not handle what I could.
You could not accept a routine different from your ordering.
You cannot adapt.
I am flexible, I am open, I am happy and I see happiness and I want it.
I do not know its shape or form, I do not know what it sounds like or tastes like, just what it feels like.

Yet I, too, am not fulfilled.
I have no self control.
I am a contradiction. I hold dark and I hold light.
I am repetitive.

I will succeed. I will not fail any of you.
I cannot escape the hurt I will cause, or will be effected on me.
I am not your answer.
I am not your answer.
I am not your answer.

I am full of currents,
I am searching for what I already have (had).
I will find my way back to it one day.

I will never be yours.
You will not hold claim over me.
I have found that the truth I believe in bears no resemblance to this.
I cannot reconcile my love, so I leave it.
I will pay for my sins, over and over again.
I will not pay for yours.

The other day my dear friend Ian wrote a post about the ten books that shook his world. I immediately thought that was a great idea and decided to do it myself too.
After a minute I realized I was not going to do it, after all. It would just take too much time and effort of trying to remember them all, write about them as well as what they meant too me…, nah, just too much. I am not as dedicated as Ian and he wins. Touché.
But, in the process of thinking about it I did remember one of the very important books of my life, one that I haven’t been thinking about for a long long time since I read it, say, 25 years or so ago, when I was pretty young: Herman Hesse’s The Glass Bead Game.
When I discovered Hesse I read many of his novels and I loved them all: Demian, Siddharta, Journey to the East and especially Steppenwolf. By the way, do people still read Hesse at all? Anybody knows what the situation is nowadays? In my time if you were into personal growth, Hesse was a must. I believe even more so if you were male, as I remember. Which, now that I think of it, is quite interesting.
Anyway, for me The Glass Bead Game was above it all. I still remember how very shocked I felt when reaching the last page and reading something I was totally unprepared for. After everything the main characters has gone through, after finally achieving the very top of the world, he decides to let it all go. He decides to abandon it all and to step into something very simple yet meaningful, into serving. But then, finally feeling completely free and content, he suddenly dies. Abruptly. The end. No more.
I can so easily reconnect with that moment, lying in my bed with the last page in front of me, my heart pounding hard and my face staring in disbelief. It felt as if all the four existential dilemmas (freedom, death, isolation, meaninglessness) suddenly hit me in my forehead, really hard. For days my mind was pulsating with thoughts: “Everything I begin, will end. Everything I build, will eventually crush down. Nothing is permanent and whatever I may achieve, whatever peak I might reach, even if I reach the absolute freedom, it will all end in total isolation and with death I will vanish from this world. So what is the meaning of it all? What difference does anything make? Why move? Why try?“
The romantic worlds and illusions started to crush down and I kept attempting to build them up again, and again, and again. I wanted to have a nice illusion of absolute meaning, of eternity, of connectedness and free choice, yet the pictures never held for very long and there were always pieces missing. Only in the last couple of years I seem to be starting to come to peace with it all.
Well, that book definitely shook my world. I believe I would be somewhat different had I not read it. But I am totally happy I did, of course. No mourning here, just a celebration.

The Near-Sighted, Albeit Democratic, Mr. Magoo

In conceptualizing the evolution of democracy, it is just as important to look to the past as to the future.  Nonetheless, most individuals tend to have a myopic view of democracy that regards this form of governance as static, rather like an image fixed on photographic paper.  The prevailing perspective is that democracy, as it exists today, is  basically what it has always been in the past.    However, when one adopts the farsighted view of history, nothing could be further from the truth.   Also, this near-sighted view fails to perceive that democracy has, and historically has had, many forms.

Ben Wilson, in reviewing Professor John Keane’s recently published book, The Life and Death of Democracy, for the Literary Review  has written about the historical myopia.

‘NEW, NEW, NEW,’ Tony Blair marvelled early in his premiership; ‘everything is new.’  He personified a willing amnesia that is so much part of our age. The temptation to dwell in the present, with its bewildering newness and illusion of liberation, outweighs an interest in history as a vital part of our political life. This is an age ruled by restricted definitions of what is relevant. The decline of history and the languishing state of our democratic institutions and liberty are not unrelated.

The myopic perspective prevents our seeing the forest, because our collective noses are plastered to one gigantic, vision-obscuring tree, viz., the rapidly changing NOW of the Information Age.  This NOW is compelling and distorting, simply because it prevents an apprehension of the NOW in a broader, more encompassing perspective that integrates the Past and the Future with the Present in something approaching the Eastern notion of the “Eternal NOW.”  To the modern individual caught up in the bombarding influx of information, the NOW is incredibly short, flashing by so quickly that it disallows a broader view of his/her personal involvement in the larger context of existence.  Our present moments, our NOWs become like a snap of the fingers played out in “real time,” as opposed to the same snap played out in exceedingly slow motion.

Toward a Farsighted, Historical View of Democracy

Wikipedia elaborates the compelling, myopic perspective that has been exacerbated by the Information Age.

At the core of Keane’s book is the author’s belief that history is a necessary key for understanding democracy in the present time. Keane’s worldwide perspective is an important corrective to the (mainly Western) idea that democracy has one and only distinctive form; one type of model that can be brought as a gift to peoples with different attitudes and histories. There is no such a thing as a singular form of democracy. Following the line of thinking that history is the only way we can make sense of what democracy means, The Life and Death of Democracy provides fresh details of the obscure origins of old institutions and ideals like government by public assembly, female enfranchisement; the secret ballot, trial by jury, and parliamentary representation.

Keane observes that even…

In the Greek world, democracy was not a single or fixed form: although the assembly was its core institution, it resembled an odyssey, in which different mental imaginings and various practical experiments were par for the course.

But, as Keane also points out, democracy did not originate in the Athenian Assembly as commonly believed.  David Aaronovitch in a review in Times Online  observes:

Departing from the convention that locates the birth of democracy in late 6th-century BC Athens, he finds evidence of citizen assemblies in the ancient Middle East, epitomised by how the men of Nippur were called upon to decide the fate of those accused of killing one Lu-Inanna; four fellow Nippurians, including the dead man’s wife, the euphoniously named Nin-dada, were sentenced to death.

Wilson goes on to point out that Keane also noted how India revived and invigorated democracy after it was on the verge of dying out in Europe following World War II. 

In doing so it defied limited theories of democracy.  It showed how democracy was not confined to white men and women; it succeeded in a vast country with a diverse society; and it riveted the loyalty of illiterate millions with scant knowledge of Western traditions…. Later in its development, Indian democracy incorporated many innovations to keep itself in good order: power-checking mechanisms such as people’s courts (lok adalats), participatory budgets, water consultation schemes and other grass-roots manifestations of civil society. It resembles the banyan tree, whose vast size is supported by many entwined trunks and roots.

But, even this grand display of the evolution of democracy from the historian’s perspective, developed over the course of nearly 1,000 pages, cannot do justice to the origins of democracy when viewed from the viewpoint of the anthropologist or the evolutionary biologist.  Doron Shultziner, Ph.D., currently a Post-doctoral Fellow and Instructor at Emory University, presented a fascinating paper to the 2005 Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Association, September 1-4, 2005 while still a doctoral student  in the Politics & International Relations Department of Lincoln College of the University of Oxford.  The paper was entitled “Evolution and Liberal Democracy,” which reviews evidence tracing the origin of democracy  to the egalitarian structure of small hunter-gatherer groups in the Paleolithic era dating back at least 10,000 years.  Shultziner’s thesis is that “the transitions to democracy in the 20th century cannot be fully understood without reference to the evolutionary forces that shaped the human mind and human societies.”

Shultziner’s intriguing work will be discussed in the next part of this essay.

Hi There Everyone,

Great News I now have an official Facebook Fan Page!

Simply search for “Ashleigh Alexandra Louise Smith” on Facebook and Join my Fan Page today as that is where
photo’s and Video’s and News is being posted more regulary than at this blog.

So my advice is to join my facebook fan page and keep checking back here on a regular basis as the plan is to release
some exclusive photo’s and videos via this blog every now and again which will not appear on my facebook fan page and
then also put some stuff on Facebook which won’t appear here!

As you can see in the above video I sleep very well even when in noisy room’s, indeed
I reckon I could sleep through an earthquake I take after daddy like that : ) !

To finish for today here’s a quick video clip which daddy made by accident when he
was trying to take a picture of me on his mobile phone..

So Remeber to go to Facebook and search for “Ashleigh Alexandra Louise Smith” in the Manchester Network (England)
and join my Fanpage today!

Keep checking back as I have some important and amazing news coming very soon!

Hugs

Ashleigh

Smiles, punctuating

perfect lines,

hasty heartbeats, shuffling

through time,

a line of cliches is life,

overused and hollow

from inside.

Long ago pink, now

benumbed white,

clattering conveyor belts,

tongues greased in bile,

bring forth words,

cues, rotten lies.

Heads turned junk yard

of outdated tripe,

ears drip mucous and

grime, filled to the brim

with jaded vowels

and consonants

decomposing in light.

Frozen in time

a stunted human race,

apes sounds

filling empty spaces,

sleeping as it walks awake

dazed, gaping at sentences

spoken, now floating

as nothingness in air.

Hurling noise

at each other and life,

conversation is the

loud static

in a broken down

telephone line.

Helpless eyes flit

incessantly, groping

for meaning

in catch-phrases,

failing once more

they scream in malice,

fake courage is born

in decibels and din,

as fate lies in wait

silent and pale,

a growing shadow,

in a dark tale.

I crash, screaming

into this nightmare.

‘I’m fine,’

‘You look good,’

‘I love you,’

‘I promise,’

‘You are beautiful,’

‘Our love is real,’

my mouth froths

at its sides,

empty bubbles, hidden rile,

masquerading

as meaningful words, rise

from my dead insides.

‘Fight for Freedom,’

‘March for Peace,’

‘Save the World,’

‘Prevent Animal Cruelty,’

‘Wipe out Poverty,’

the words flow easily,

from my practised lips,

walking mummies

consume it eagerly

like fermented spirit,

by soulless bodies

of chronic alcoholics.

Blessed head rush

takes over for a while,

only to disappear

with the next sunrise.

Give me my high,

deny it and I’ll die,

I seek to speak,

hear your voice,

need the noise

to deny, breath as I die,

In words lies respite,

from the nameless

terror I carry inside,

even if just for a while.

So I repeat words

that I heard you speak,

shake my head, nod,

as you whisper, wail,

and regurgitate it.

The night settles in,

neon lights -

night owls in the streets,

blink at humanity’s

progressive defeat -

blankly stare at us

struggle to stay afloat

in someone else’s dream,

chanting into the void,

words – what do they mean?

A lady looks at me, pleadingly

says, ‘Say something please,

help me, save my soul,

don’t punish me with

your silence anymore,

I need to hear your voice,

I’m lonely than before.’

I stare back at her, silently,

wish I could tell her proudly,

‘I ripped out my tongue

last night, young lady,

I no longer know

how to speak.’

Instead I laugh, hysterically,

blood dripping down at my feet,

I scream inside my head,

‘I’ve conquered hypocrisy

and deceit, from this day,

there will be no words

for me, just deeds.’

]]> http://lightafiretonight.wordpress.com/2009/11/26/a-scream/ Thu, 26 Nov 2009 11:35:04 +0000 Ajit Menon http://lightafiretonight.wordpress.com/2009/11/26/a-scream/

I am good. I am bad. I’m ugly. I’m useless. I’m wretchedness and a stain. I’m waves of unrestraint passion running through your veins.

I’m a liar. I’m a thief. I’m your lover and secret wish. I’m live with you under the same roof – a stranger to your dreams.

I’m stupid. Brave. I’m paranoid delusions. I’m intelligence, beyond your understanding.

I’m a saint. Sinner. Lunatic. I’m the reason for your pain. The throbbing want in your groin.

I’m black. I despicable. Desirable. Demanding. Docile.

I’m beauty without blemishes. A wart on human soul. I’m hideous little cockroaches that feed on rotten garbage. I’m rotten garbage.

My face, my hands, my eyes, my lips, legs and torso, my faith, my world, everything is made of words that you speak of me, to me, about me. They change and transform and trans-mutate and disintegrate and realign and redistribute every single molecule that lives in me. Every second of every day of every year of my life, they make me. Give me form and shape. My image.

I am millions and millions of your words hanging in void, floating through space. Every word that leaves your lips waits in the air till it knows what to do with me. Then it takes over and moulds me as you want me to be. As you want to see me.

I’m everything your words make me out to be. And when your lips stop to move, when you no longer speak, when those millions of words don’t appear before me, I disappear. I vanish into the silence where once your words gave birth to me. Death is empty silence. I know that today.

]]> http://bigbracket.wordpress.com/2009/11/26/this-will-surprised-you-amazing-yamaha-ad/ Thu, 26 Nov 2009 10:16:52 +0000 Dinesh http://bigbracket.wordpress.com/2009/11/26/this-will-surprised-you-amazing-yamaha-ad/

Termenul modern de revoluție provine din latinescul revolutio, care înseamnă rotire, întoarcere la 180 de grade (verbul este revolvere = a se roti). De altfel, cu acest sens era folosit termenul în astronomie, și încă mai este. Nu întâmplător Copernic își va intitula lucrarea sa fundamentală De revolutionibus orbium coelestium (Despre revoluția corpurilor cerești). Sensul modern al cuvântului revoluție este acela de schimbare radicală, de îndedepărtare fundamentală (și ireversibilă) de starea istorică anterioară, sens cu o considerabilă putere de fascinație, deoarece asociem mai mereu revoluțiilor cu schimbări pozitive și de lungă durată. Dar nu este singurul înțeles: Richard Pipes scrie cum că, întrebați fiind ce înțeleg prin „revoluție” de către sociologii sovietici, țăranii ruși răspundeau că rovoluție înseamnă „samovolșcina”, adică în traducere aproximativă – să faci ce vrei…

O societate prerevoluționară este frământată de tensiuni sociale și politice, precum și de clivaje ireconciliabile la nivel societal. Toate aceste fenomene sunt inteligent instrumentate de către viitorii revoluționari, iar dintre cei mai interesanți sunt așa-zișii revoluționari de profesie (în accepțiunea lui V.I. Ulianov – Lenin). Intelectualii revoluțiilor reprezintă capitolul cel mai captivant – dar și cel mai înfricoșător – din istoria revoluțiilor. Acest soi nou de „intelectuali” pot justifica, explica și, mai ales, legitima, practic orice. De la excesele iacobine la masacrele lui Pol Pot, nimic nu este prea mult – sau prea barbar – pentru stimabilii intelectuali îmbibați de ideologie. Intelectualii sunt cei ce manipulează și instrumentează nemulțumirile și tensiunile maselor în interes propriu. Ei amplifică, distorsionează și direcționează energiile haotice ale societății pe un făgaș personal, dar pe care îl cred universal. Utopia sfârșește în infern. În loc de a fi arhanghelii unei noi ordini, mai bune, Lenin, Troțki, Kamenev, Zinoviev, Stalin vor sfârși prin a fi demonii ce-și vor arunca umbra peste un întreg secol. În loc de mai bine, Gulagul. În loc de dictatură a proletariatului, dictatură asupra proletariatului. În loc de libertate și prosperitate, Holodomor și țara-lagăr. Dar să nu ne restrângem cazuistica doar la Rusia. Francezii și-au început revoluția decapitând un rege, pe Ludovic al XVI-lea, și au sfârșit, zece ani mai târziu, cu un împărat cu coroană și tot tipicul, pe tron. Care împărat – Napoleon pe nume – îi va trimite la moarte prin toată Europa, vreme de aproape 20 de ani. Totul în numele patriei, bineînțeles, a unui scop mai înalt, supraindividual. Intelectualii doctrinari ar fi, pasămite, arhitecții schimbării radicale a condiției umane, schimbare ce nu ar putea fi făcută de către oamenii obișnuiți, incapabili să-și înțeleagă condiția, ci în numele lor. Cred că e necesar să menționez că folosesc termenul intelectual cu ghilimele de rigoare, pentru a nu jigni adevărații intelectuali.

Crane Brinton, în The Anatomy of Revolution, identifică mai multe faze ale unei revoluții. Inițial, după răsturnarea guvernului, există o perioadă de entuziasm și idelism generalizat, dominată de o retorică optimistă și vizionară. Dar această etapă nu durează prea mult, entuziasmul se consumă, în principal deoarece problemele practice ale guvernării încep să dividă tabăra revoluționară între moderați și radicali. Conflictul intestin ce ia naștere se sfârșește de obicei cu victoria radicalilor și cu concentrarea puterii în mâinile unui grup restrâns de extremiști, ce pretind a reprezenta „voința poporului”. Pentru menținerea puterii, folosirea forței este aproape întotdeauna inevitabilă, în numele unui scop mai înalt – „binele poporului”. Scopurile inițiale ale revoluției încep să se estompeze, pe măsură ce regimul totalitar își consolidează puterea. Cu toate acestea, unele intenții originale ale reovoluției sunt încorporate, într-o formă deformată, trunchiată și instrumentată în folosul noului regim, în noua arhitectură statală și instituțională. Acest model se potrivește, în bună măsură, Revoluției Franceze la 1789 și Revoluției Ruse din 1917 (cea din primăvară, reală, nu lovitura de stat bolșevică), precum și Revoluției Islamice din Iran din 1979.

Poate din cauza tuturor celor expuse mai sus privesc cu circumspecție mișcările revoluționare, tocmai datorită pericolului deturnării, confiscării lor de către oportuniști, carieriști și – cei mai periculoși – fanatici, toți aceștia urmărindu-și o agendă personală, mai mult sau mai puțin rațională și morală. De la Napoleon la Ayatollahul Khomeini și de la Robespierre la Lenin, exemplele în acest sens nu lipsesc.

Die Jugendlichen stehen Schlange, um sich von Heidi Klum und Dieter Bohlen öffentlich erniedrigen zu lassen. An einer Casting-Show teilzunehmen, ist für viele ein Traum tatsächlich aber ein Alptraum. Die Massen die daran teilnehmen ob durch singen oder zuschauen sind nichtsweiter als ein Haufen Menschen die sich vor lauter Besinnungslosigkeit nicht ausleben können und deshalb lieber irgendwelchen illusorischen Träumen nachjagen, als die Verhältnisse zu hinterfragen die sie frustrieren und in Bewusstlosigkeit halten. Der zunehmende Erfolg solcher Sendungen zeigt die große Sehnsucht nach erfülltem Leben, die aber unerfüllt bleiben muss solange nicht an die Quelle der Mangelerscheinungen gegangen wird.

Goblet Portraits 1977

ArtistsinAuction

The work of Zeke Berman demonstrates a truly unique eye in the world of photography. We are truly grateful to have such a talented artist on board, partaking in our upcoming auction.

Berman has honed his craft over the last 35 years, producing singular, studio-based photographs that reflect his long-standing interest in visual cognition and optics.

His work has evolved much over the years but always explores an intersection between sculpture, photography and drawing.

From the outset Berman received strong critical acclaim. His work has been collected, published and exhibited in galleries and museums such as MoMA, The Metropolitan, The Whitney, and Art Institute of Chicago. He has been featured in the first New Photography Exhibition at MoMA and has received multiple awards, including the Guggenheim, NEA and NYFA Arts Fellowships.

In the beginning

As a kid, Berman loved sculpture. He attended the High School of Music and Art and studied sculpture at the Philadelphia College of Art. He only backed into photography after graduating. To date he approaches photography as a studio based art and his sculptural training clearly plays an important part in his working process.

During his years in art school, conceptual art and minimalism were a fresh aspect of contemporary art. At that time, Berman began a developing fascination in perception theory -  a lifelong interest that involves questions of cognition, optical illusion and the evolution of the senses. The idea that an illusion can change in appearance,  right before our eyes, is equally fascinating and inspiring to him.

His study found its way into his working process when he began to experiment with a camera in the studio. Berman’s epiphany came when he discovered a deep mystery and possibility in the transformation of a three-dimensional construction into a two-dimensional photograph.

A cumulative process

The formal range of Berman’s work and his sculptural use of materials is varied, original and idiosyncratic. All his pieces are intricately designed and constructed in his studio.

Berman uses a 4X5 studio view camera  to create all his photography. The procedure is an old one that delivers extremely sharp, and clear prints, as well as images that are very realistic in the description of the materials used. The end result is often a photograph designed from a construction but with the appearance of a drawing.

His process is cumulative in nature – he makes photographic sketches constantly as he constructs and reconstructs, creating many, images as the work evolves. Intuition and spontaneity ensue throughout the process. We asked him how he knows when he has finally completed a piece.  His answer is that it simply feels complete.

Optical illusion

In the late 1970’s Berman had a direct interest in creating different kinds of illusion. His work from this period clearly demonstrates optical illusion and the transformation of three-dimension into two-dimension.

“Cup with Objects” from 1979 is a great example of 3D/2D play. All the objects fill up the frame up to the edge, however, one slight shift of the camera and the pieces wouldn’t work together.

Cup with Objects

“Web,” a piece from the late 80’s contains an actual spider web. It is a very linear, abstract work, and one that clearly depicts the flow from drawing to sculpture to photography. In fact, much of his work from this time period was very linear in nature.

Web

Later pieces demonstrate the evolution and progression in his photography.

Take for example “Shoe and Tire,” a 1993 commission piece for Progressive Corporation, an auto insurance company. The company CEO is an avid art collector and commissioned Berman to create a suite of still life’s around which the company’s Annual Report was designed. He won several design awards for this work.

Shoe and Tire

“Heart,” created in 1995 was commissioned by graphic designer Mark Schwartz for his daughter who was born on Valentine’s day.

Heart

Although Berman rarely photographs people, “Standing Stack” from 1997 was made at a time when he wished to bring more human presence into his work.

Standing Stack

Berman lives and works in NYC. He now works mostly in color, a new turn in his evolving body of work.

To view the ArtistsinAuction website click here.

To view more of  Zeke Berman’s work, click here.

Plant Slice 1999

Fat Lamp and Cherry Blossoms 2008

Earth life can be a tough school and the lessons of Earth life and the meanness and cruelty of others can make it challenging for one to maintain their innocence and purity of character. God purity means loving God to such an extent and to such an attunement that no matter how mean or cruel people are, and no matter how tough the lessons of Earth life are, one holds to their unconditional love, faith, trust and patience in God. God purity also means choosing the path of selflessness at all times, never giving into an attack thought, admitting your mistakes when you have made them no matter what the circumstance,  holding to unconditional love and one’s Spiritual ideals at all times, always being the one to apologize when an ego battle has been entered into, being the first to forgive self and others, constantly being vigilant against the negative ego and ever more so the more success you achieve on all levels … It is when all these attitudes and qualities are made manifest that a person demonstrates true unconditional love and purity. Strive at all times to maintain your purity and to not succumb to the corruption, negative ego, glamour, illusion, maya of the lower-self and fear-based reality. This will take enormous consicousness and vigilance on your part, however, the gift and fruit that you will attain is greater than any gift or item you will find in this world. “Be ye faithful unto death and I will give thee a crown of life!” – Jesus. So let it be written. So let it be done.

© 2009 www.IAMUniversity.org

An amazing video which I discovered half-hazardly this morning. A visual phenomenon called “motion-induced blindness”. It consists of a constantly rotating background which causes the other motionless visual stimuli to disappear and reappear. Just watch the video.

“Exactly how this works is currently unclear. It is considered a “novel temporal illusion” – providing some insight into the brain mechanisms underlying conscious perception. The illusion, described in the journal Current Biology by a team of researchers from France, suggests that the unconscious representation of a visual object is processed for around one tenth of a second before it enters conscious awareness.”

Read more about it here

Thank you for connecting,

Cooper

La douăzeci de ani de la prăbușirea regimurilor comuniste – ceea ce nu echivalează cu dispariția comunismului ca ideologie și mentalitate cu putere de atracție – scepticismul și dezamăgirile cu privire la cele două valori occidentale fundamentale, capitalismul/democrația, rămân la cote considerabile. România nu apare in sondaj, însă ne putem lesne imagina rezultatele ce ar fi fost obținute aici.

photo: Philippe Ramette

From Wired.com:

Sometimes seeing means deceiving before believing, depending on your age. Children and adults size up objects differently, giving youngsters protection against a visual illusion that bedevils their elders, a new study suggests.

This unusual triumph of kids over grown-ups suggests that the brain’s capacity to consider the context of visual scenes, and not just focus on parts of scenes, develops slowly, say psychologist Martin Doherty of the University of Stirling in Scotland and his colleagues. Even at age 10, children lack adults’ attunement to visual context, Doherty’s team concludes in a paper published online November 12 in Developmental Science.

As a result, visual context can be experimentally manipulated to distort adults’ perception of objects’ sizes. But Doherty’s group finds that children, especially those younger than 7, show little evidence of altered size perception on a task called the Ebbinghaus illusion.

“When visual context is misleading, adults literally see the world less accurately than they did as children,” Doherty says.

This pattern holds for Scottish children and adults in the new study as well as for Japanese children and adults who participated in other investigations conducted by Doherty’s team.

Some researchers argue that East Asians focus broadly on the context of what they see while Westerners focus narrowly on central figures. Doherty says the new findings instead indicate that adults in both Scotland and Japan can’t help but track visual context, although this tendency was stronger in the Japanese adults.

Other investigators have noted that children with autism don’t succumb to visual size illusions, consistent with the idea that autism involves an excessive focus on details. But visual context largely eludes all young children, not just those with autism, Doherty asserts.

Even if the new findings hold up, it’s still possible that further research will show that children with autism develop a susceptibility to size illusions more slowly than those without it, remarks psychologist Danielle Ropar of the University of Nottingham in England.

Psychologist Carl Granrud of the University of Northern Colorado in Greeley calls the new study convincing but “somewhat surprising.” Children exhibit sensitivity to visual context on some other visual tasks, he says, such as one in which two equal-sized horizontal lines are perceived as differing in length when flanked by diagonal lines.

Earlier research has yielded conflicting evidence that children fall prey to the Ebbinghaus illusion, partly because of weaknesses in study designs, Doherty says.

His team studied 151 children, ages 4 to 10, recruited from a Scottish primary school and nursery school. Another 24 volunteers, ages 18 to 25, were college students.

Participants viewed a series of images containing pairs of orange circles in which one circle was 2 percent to 18 percent larger than the other. An experimenter asked participants to point to the circle that “looked bigger.”

Control images showed only two orange circles. In other images, each orange circle was surrounded by gray circles intended either to hinder or aid accurate size perception.

Misleading images showed the smaller orange circle surrounded by even smaller gray circles to boost its apparent size. Large gray circles surrounding the larger orange circle were intended to shrink its apparent size.

In helpful images, large gray circles surrounded the smaller orange circle to make it appear smaller than it actually was. Small circles surrounded the larger orange circle to magnify its apparent size.

Four-year-olds correctly identified the larger circle in 79 percent of control images. That figure rose with age, reaching 95 percent in adults.

For 4- to 6-year-olds, accuracy of size perception for misleading images remained at about what it was for control images. Misleading images increasingly elicited errors from older children and tricked adults most of the time. Adults made almost no errors on helpful images. Kids from age 7 to 10 erred on a minority of helpful images, while 4- to 6-year-olds performed no better than chance.

Below: (a) Most people see the further circle as being larger than the nearer one, though they are equal. (b) Adding surrounds, as in the Ebbinghaus illusion, increases the perceived size difference between the two circles. (c) The large element in the centre of the second row from the top may be seen as being larger than that arrowed below, but they are equal.

Images: Martin Doherty

Some thoughts on my mind…Let it shine.

Tuesday November 24, 2009 By Kevin Morrow

Time to heal your mind, open your eyes and know the origin of time. The split of mind from the eternal divine.
Separated, intimidated and sedated from a right state of mind. Grind out the passionate because the ego ain’t having it. It Loves confusion that’s why I speak on it. Creep on it like I sleepwalk a week on it. Not a weak moment in my existence. Make sense out a racist, a pointless attempt. See the mind makes what it sees then will die to make it breath. What do you hate for, because you don’t know where you came from. Dumb, blind, and ignorant, like trying to capture your shadow. Claiming hate is what’s relevant. Can’t escape the truth, the truth’s in hot pursuit. Equipped in a bodily suit, tryna know perfection. My projection has a malfunction. Play the movie of my mind coming, running into restitution. Retribution is not needed. Believe me, Love is what you really wish to be in. Gin and juice cannot reproduce the detoxification of the truth. What’s the use?

Racism is the mental illness within G-D’s children, I feel them, I live them, I breath, I am them. I speak to the soul because I no longer hold deception as a weapon. Blessed when I put on the armor of G-D. Invisible cloak, cause there is no war only lost hope. Dope filled veins with fear tryna cope. On a mental high of illusion though. Lose control and be lost forever. Not very clever to speed in stormy weather.

This is easy for me I say what I believe. In the face of reality I can really see. Insulting my intelligence, but ego is irrelevant, the truth has set me free. I be what I be , that’s why some “think” they fear me. The love is hard to trust when you stuck in lust, tryna bust the same nut like a squirrel in world of trees not climbed up. Confront me how, mass fields plowed, hunger in a lonely child, wild like the king of the jungle to you because I seem real humble.

Afraid to hear the truth so it seems I mumble. Attack my point of view, because it means I love you. And that’s impossible because I you say I don’t know you. But you in me and I in you like my cousin say. Play with the illusions and you will get burned one day. Time to be removing your hand from the stove, don’t need to create a glove when you swimming in love.

Shit, I keep saying things to shake your spirit, when people hear it they they experience what’s beyond the senses. Like seeing new life from beyond closed lenses. All stations go, this is mission control, racism’s a decision, non-element of soul. Spirit doesn’t fear it, cuz spirit doesn’t know it, see it, need it, or hear it.

You can’t separate the TRUTH from the TRUTH. 4

Tuesday November 24, 2009 By Kevin Morrow

Now social conditioning to me merely means how the mind sees reality. How you grow up and the environment you live in determines the values put inside of your mind. It does this until you decide to be in charge. Social conditioning structures things like how we view marriage, sex, relationships, and boundaries of what is acceptable and not acceptable.

The difference between a girl that is your friend and a “girlfriend” is a social label. It’s a conditioning of the mind to recognize the difference between a casual and a not so casual “friend.” What I’m getting at is these things get downloaded into our mental programs of reality.

One of my girlfriends and I got along way better after the energy of a “label” was taken away in our interactions. The label puts the mind into separation, which is a separation from love. Think about this, if you have a conversation with a married person you may automatically close of doors to certain forms of love because you feel that persons love is reserved for one person.

I’m not talking about sex here, or intimate things of that nature. I’m talking about closing the doors to potential mind healing because you hear the label married, and assume that you have to close yourself of to certain types of love.

This is not the case, people in perfect love are responsible for their actions and would be open to all forms of love instead of closing them self off to the possibility. Again I’m not talking about sex, I’m talking about communication.

It’s just been socially conditioned into the minds and it takes an element of freedom away. When freedom is no longer free, things become uncomfortable. You can still talk to a married person and share energy, but that doesn’t mean you have to sleep with them. Sex is not love anyway. Sex is to reproduce, and that’s it. It is viewed as fun because it is the representation of union. Love separated and then combined. It’s an attempt to reconnect with perfect love through the body.

Ever notice though that sex is more mental? Love is not sex, but sex can be love. It’s the separation of mind that creates the labels and creates illusion through its “perceived” separation from love.

Do you know why sex is one of the most dominant urges of the human experience? The reason is it’s a material attempt to reconnect with G-D and perfect love. Separation and union, separation and union, just like the mind has done with LOVE.

WHY DO PEOPLE GET HURT OVER BREAKUPS?

People get hurt over breakups because they don’t understand love. They are trying to make something perfect that cannot be if it’s not perfect love. In order to have perfect love your mind cannot have separation from love.

The mind is creating a social conditioning image of love through the eyes of the EGO. So you build up all these expectations of how “”PERFECT” something should be, and then when it’s not “PERFECT” your expectations are shattered. When expectations don’t live to what you see, your EGO get’s pissed. The only way to support a separation from perfect love is to make you see it through foggy classes.

So you chase something you can’t really see, and you keep chasing because you really think your seeing it. Like a cat chases the light of a flashlight across the floor. The cat can never actually catch the light, because what it is actually seeing is not what it thinks it’s seeing.

When you label yourself as only giving your love to one person, you severely restrict yourself. Once again I’m not talking about sex. The spirit which is PERFECT LOVE doesn’t need sex, and probably experiences orgasmic energy all the time because it’s not separated from reality.

Now if you flip the script and dedicate yourself to be intimately in love with yourself, out of perfect love, then situations of perfect love will be yours to experience. EXACTLY how you believe them to be possible.

Now back to social conditioning

If you look to the outside world to figure out what love is, all you will see is fear. Things in the world pass away, therefore fear will be in the outside world. When you get married you say “Till death do us part.” Strong statement, but death can be of the mind as well. But death can only be of the mind that isn’t real.

Anything real will last, anything not real will pass away. Real love has no boundaries. You see this sometimes in mother child interactions. There are mothers that have unconditional love for their children no matter what they do in life. They see them through perfect love vision.
Nothing can destroy perfect love, but illusions can make it seem that way.

The thing that ego fears worth is death. All EGO is, is the separation from perfect love. So when you fear love, you are fearing the death of love, not love itself. Just remember that love cannot die.

<

Your solutions are right here now
and ready for you to receive
just let go and stop worrying stop fretting stop concerning yourself with how
focus on what you truly want to transpire and let source take care of the rest
put your Faith in source and the power and ability to manifest all things
put your faith in source and believe that you deserve all good things
and let your heart be free to desire whatever it chooses
let your heart be free to reveal the truth of what you really want
what your higher self knows you are here to have
do not be mislead by the silly conventions and conditioning of this world
that is what it means to be separate from the world but in it
you must allow your heart to communicate the truth of what you are here for and what it desires
what your highest and best self truly desires
for you have become confused with the things that are around you
it has grown into a self-perpetuating force
that you must break free from by simply letting those things go
simply let go and allow source to cleans your mind and heart with Love
allow the love to flow from your heart center and transform your inner being cleansing all limitations
all illusions
all conditioning that causes fear and concern
lack and limitation
allow source to work its magic and you will see that you are here for so much more than fear so much more than the things you have become so accustomed to
let go now and allow source to move in you and inspire you toward your true identity
toward your birthright toward all the power and love
that is within you
there is nothing more important than your alignment and trust in the power within around and through you
now
all is well
all is well

- Morning stream of consciousness writing from John Stringer

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Those big, bold eyes defy my presence. A goddess or a cruel mistress, I hesitate, my eyes running the width of her slender hips. The low slung saree, draped under her navel, reveals just enough to want more. I try to gauge her from a distance. Her face is playful like that of a child yet sublime as of a saint. In a chimera of light I see large white pearls hanging from her ears. They seemed to gather the reds, blues and gold in the hall and scatter them around her eyes, her big, bold eyes, highlighted by a shade of olive green mascara. She sees me, smiles a half-smile, stroking the rim of her martini glass with a long, polished, pointed finger. The shimmering red of her nail is violent, wild and screaming. I am captivated by their insinuations. The image is intoxicating. I drink it in along with the alcohol in my hand. My mind’s fabricating fantasies of the dark kind. Like an accomplished trapeze artist, she ever so swiftly glides into the conversation I am having with myself.

“You are thinking of sex.” she states, smiling, without indulging in any pleasantries. I choke on my rum and cola, sputtering instantly. Like the morning sky, slowly a pale red spreads across my face. My ears are hot, and buzz uncomfortably.

“Well…I…I’m sorry? What?” I manage to force out a few words from my then vanished vocabulary trying to smile at the same time. My feeble attempt evokes a deep-throated laughter from her. I feel myself shrink out of sight in spasms.

“I said you were staring as if you were contemplating sex with me,” casually, she flips back a few flowing strands of her hair from her face. She was right. She was damn right but such direct mention of my intent made it sound obscene. I didn’t know how to react when my lust stared at me in the face so publicly. In civilized society, people broached upon this subject differently. There was a mutually understood and accepted way of handling these things.

Caught unaware, I did what came to me naturally. “What a preposterous thing to say, Madam,” I fibbed which I deemed not to be a sin under such embarrassing circumstances. “I was simply lost in my own thoughts. Sure didn’t mean to stare at you. And I’m really sorry.” Ah! That last part was a master’s touch, I figured. A coup d’état. Now maybe I could add something casual and meaningless, and we could start with a more accepted line of conversation. But that was not to be.

“You are sorry you stared at me or you are sorry you didn’t stare at me?” She emphasized both parts of the question with a slow, deliberate lisp. It had the desired effect on me if there was to be a desired effect. I felt an ice cube slide down my naked spine and into the small of my back. The little hair on my neck stood up. I heard the tinkling sound of ice against glass. My hands, and along with it the drink, were shaking visibly.

“I……no….NO! Absolutely not. That’s not what I meant. I mean I meant I am sorry but not as you suggest. I did not mean it that way.” My throat was dry and was getting drier for she didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. I wanted to gulp down the entire content of my glass but my hands were frozen. “I am truly sorry if I offended you by staring at you. I didn’t mean to. Yes, that’s what I wanted to say. Truly. That’s it.”

“Ah! I see,” she moved an inch closer, and I could feel the silky, soft skin of her fingers brush against my paralyzed hand. “If I were not offended, you would stare then? Or if I was not looking?” She looked deep into my eyes almost teasingly. I wanted to rush to the men’s room. My stomach was starting to act up suddenly. I gulped hard.

“I… you…see….what I mean……the truth is…” I couldn’t hold her gaze and looked around to see if I could find a familiar face in the crowd. I wanted an excuse to excuse myself and run off from this waking nightmare my fantasy was fast becoming. But I could see no one I recognized.

“Do you want me?” She was matter-of-fact as if enquiring whether I liked my tea with sugar or without. I gulped again. I wonder why she keeps staring into my eyes. “Were you thinking of all the things you could do with my naked body in your bed?” Is she drunk? ‘Get out now!’ my mind kept telling me most urgently. But something kept me from making that dash from the dimly lit corner where I found myself stuck with this gorgeous woman in a satin saree draped under her navel.

“You are most beautiful, I admit.” I answered wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean. Did I want to get into her panties or not? It was a simple question. I was sweating.

“Be a man, handsome. Were you contemplating the naked contours of my body meshed within your naked flesh, two beasts in the throes of wild lovemaking? C’mon, answer me.” There was a glint of evil in her eyes. I bet there was. I saw it stare at me in pity. Was she mocking me? Was she trying to test my mettle?

Her long, red finger nails were drawing little circles on my wrist now. Slowly, gently, almost like with a feather. My skin was alive and burning under it. Sensations, unknown, shot through my veins in ceaseless streams and burst into bright multi-colored lights inside my head, blinding me again and again. I felt weak in my knees. I drew a short breath, urgently and painfully, through my mouth and then stood without breathing.

“Let me help you a little bit here,” she was saying. “Let me tell you a secret. Just to inspire you. Shall I? Let’s see if this can get you started, ok?” she was still staring intently at my face. I could feel her warm breath near my left ear.

“Here it is. I am not wearing any panties, sweetheart. Nope! None at all. Right now, I can feel the cold air-conditioned air kiss my toes and crawl up my waxed legs inside my saree. Do you know how that feels? To stand here without panties, in this over-decorated hall, amidst a hundred stuffed phonies and hypocrites, drinking and muttering inanities at each other, seeking assurance for their own significance? Do you know how it feels, lover boy? It feels like you have an ace up your sleeve. Or up your leg, if I may.” She burst into a laugh once again. ‘What was she laughing at, this awful woman?’ I wondered, straining my neck to see if anyone was noticing us.

“You are shaking hands with them,” she made an slow arc with her naked right hand, pointing at the crowd in the hall, “and listening to them chatter endlessly about which charity they just donated money to or where they just went for a holiday and you smile, thinking, ‘I am naked underneath, you moron! I don’t have my panty on!!!’ Ha..ha…ha…. They look at you strangely, as if, they see you are a little too amused by their stories and they do not expect you to be so amused. But you keep looking at them and smiling all the same. And they don’t know what to do so they keep smiling at you too. Ha..ha..ha…ha… Do you know what it is that I do, handsome? I defile your fake cultivated social mores with my nudity. I laugh while you stand in your designer costumes covering your naked depravity. You who have pretensions for pride and deceit for dignity, I laugh at you!”

“What do you have to say, lover boy? I walk around your midst in my diamond and gold studded costumes displaying your shame if you care enough to look. You think that is gross! Indecent! Obscene! Oh yes, that is what you say to yourself but secretly you look down into your glass and wonder what I my naked body looks like. What it would feel like in your arms. What will you find between my legs. Yes, that is what you think glaring into your glasses. That’s what you are doing, isn’t it? That’s what you were doing. You wouldn’t look into my eyes and think that, will you? You are afraid I just might recognize that lecherous, slimy intention, no, not an intention itself, but a fearful hope of an intention in your eyes, isn’t it? Speak up, lover boy? Are you afraid of a beautiful lady without her panty?”

I’m melting in my own sweat. This can’t be happening. Not at a casual cocktail party where people just come to drink and have some fun. Not anywhere else I can think of either. This just cannot be real. Women don’t talk or act like this. Do they? There’s a hammer going ‘thud, thud, thud’ inside my head incessantly.

“You see, you no longer want my body. But if I was willing to play the game of cat and mouse, your accepted rituals of seduction, and let you buy me a drink, and pretend that you have talked me into getting into bed with you, you’d be happy. And satisfied. But now…oh, NO! Now you just want to get the hell out of here.” She said, took a long sip from her glass and then, chuckled under her breath.

“I’m the symbol of your gilded morality, lover boy. The vices you cover up in pompous pretexts. I’m the naked sins you hide under the most beautiful of bullshit. Look at me, I am what you want and yet are insulted to admit you do. In public. Before the gaze of another soul. I am everything you keep covering up, hiding all your life.”

“What do you want…..from me?” I heard a voice, which moments later I recognized as mine. It was hoarse and halting.

“From you, lover boy? Ha…ha…! What do I want from YOU? Nothing. But since you ask, here’s a suggestion. Grant your emotions the respect they deserve. Be honesty about them.” She titled her head a bit, and looked intently into my eyes again. Strangely I didn’t drop my gaze. “A man desires a woman. There is nothing unnatural about it. If you find me sexually attractive, have the courage to admit it. I may even respect you for that. But do not treat your own desire as you would a shady deal in some shabby alley under the cover of darkness. You are not to defile what you feel for a woman by making it a distorted, depraved lie. Show the woman respect. Show your desire that respect.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. I must be dreaming. She is standing in a distance with a young couple. They are talking something about a vacation to Sao Paulo. She is giggling. Laughing. Chuckling at them. For a brief second, she turns around to look me straight in the eye. I need to sit. Maybe I had too much to drink. I do that occasionally. I haven’t even had lunch today, I remembered. Vaguely. As if memories were in a fog. That seemed like another life time. Lunch. Office. Life. Right now, I was only a spirit, feeling the faint musky fragrance of an Arabian belly dancer standing before me. Of course, she’s a belly dancer. Who else’s has such flat, inviting belly? Do belly dancers have washboard stomach? Or maybe, this is a genie from thousand and one Arabian Nights. Damn! I am not thinking straight anymore. I got to sit. Lie down. I am dreaming.

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