I’ve been up for 41 hours, drawings start to show it up 😛
no words or just few words
it took it forever for the lil piece of charcoal
to create a shining world, a transparent web made out of tiny fragile beads …
each bead meant a piece of the charcoal, dissolved and carefully crafted, to make it clear and sweet and beautiful
each bead meant a small but capricious land,
as if carved out of its own womb, the dark piece of worthless matter, took away from deep inside, minuscule particules, pristine tingling drops of love
on every brush and touch the charcoal tried to conjure all the beauty it never witnessed … on ever bit of salty tears the humble material, tried to give birth to something impossible.
all night was the discardable creature, knitting and singing soft lullabies to the dream it was building, the night was long and the web was somehow magical, the night was protective and the cool of the winds made the strings of tears, dance swiftly and happily
and when the lil humble charcoal was absorbed, fascinated by the gorgeous shine of the dream created, without a single sound, fast and warm as if it wanted to surprise, the morning came and the light destroyed the shivering fantasy in front of the charcoal horrified eyes…
with just a smile the charcoal retreated to its humid cave, because the dream it had dreamt for a summer night, it lasted a second in front of its eyes, but it’ll burn forever in the charcoal’s heart.
So I finally made some dvance on the header, this is my first attempt/proposal. I like the vintage feel of the piece.
What do you think?
In the place I call mine, the nation that saw me born I’m invisible, I have been owned and discarded so I’m not longer valuable, not a cherishable asset, just damaged merchandise, outlet material. My hair should be cut short as a sign of my position, not longer a female. My hair is a defiance to tradition and culture, as unwanted /unworthy I dont have the right to wear my hair, as its a symbol of feminity.
Here a different patriarchal system has evolved, the way I look erase away all flaws and errs, a cult of beauty grants me a place as coveted trophy, a piece of status, a soft and empty display of pure decoration. A fashion facade. I’m not invisible or rebellious, my political stance doesn’t matters, my thoughts and ideas overlooked, muffled by tan skin and gypsy eyes.
What do I want to be? Do I worth something without social qualifications? Who gets to measure my worth?
I chose to be defined by his eyes and his heart.
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this is an aggregate/slideshow post which presents various artistic interpretations of the first expression of the heavenly family. who may be expanding in the future.
from the original prompt, the characters characters:
‘father’ sun: long haired guy. solar rays are strands of hair
single-woman moon: short haired girl, with a light side and a darkside. the light side is still caused by the sun, but the light doesn’t really help her. she brings more diversity and nurturing styles to life through effect on the tide
mother earth: classic mother earth, but in the process of giving birth to life, she is impregnated by sun rather than clouds.
father heaven. cloud guy who toils around the world, sweating and physically nurturing the living offspring
… creation …
when she got pregnant, earth swelled in long gestation of hermaphroditic Turmoil. her pores poured to create and shape new oceans. her mountains swelled with skin twisting and rippling from uncontrollable urges. neither heaven nor sun could placate her insatiable need to mother. Eons past with valleys rising from seas. and mounds and mounts erupting from her depths; the baby-kicks of life.
she gave birth in a conflicting euphoria of pain and ecstasy as the culmination of circumstance inevitability brought her a child. sun, moon, and heaven gathered around to witness and celebrate the new addition, lovingly named “Turmoil” but turmoil wasn’t as pleasant as the family hoped.
the child attacked itself. physically self mutilating, and occasionally engaging in self-cannibalism. it literally began to tear itself apart with frighteningly nonsensical sounds. unlike the former family who found themselves to simply be, this child struggled and fought clenching desperately at the thin thread of sanity- of meaning- it could find. harvesting a bit of it’s mother out remarkable force of will to just continue to be.
one of the first fleshy threads torn from Turmoil, became the plant life. Turmoil tore it from self to try to mitigate individual need for resource harvesting. so it tore a barely mindful sliver of self and spread it around the world. in the tear, Turmoil became far more animal than before, ceding and seeding the basal aspect of life as we know it. which mother has helped birth, support, and raise, ever since- an act of recognition and caring for the aspiration’s of her child.
Turmoil was free from allot of the responsibility of divinity at last. it, through plantlife, created the first worshipers who like worshipers today, need divine guidance and nourishment. worshipers to allow (a) greedy thief to abscond with all the caloric wealth.
but eventually with the introspective circumstance caused by the loneliness. it noticed how selfless- and vile the former selfmutilation was. it tore from itself the wrongs of circumstance, psychopathically othering them into a group where one no longer cared about their suffering. there were conflicting identites and perceptions of self- what one is against what one has done. it couldn’t undo the tearing of plants from self. yet it needed to reconcile one’s similarity to divine kind, while simultaneously acting in petulant and needy manner. with recognition of self as a fraud, the character tore deep into itself, trying once again to separate good from evil- or rather pretense from need. the same tool used in the same method- but expecting different results.
it looked into the wavering calm of a forested lake, a gift from heaven. and recognized itself in the reflection. “maybe if i just take some more, i’m so fat and grizzled”
this time it tore in three:
the herbivores were subconscious beings of fear. they lacked the rigor of the previous trials, the taste for flesh, and any resemblance of higher rational faculties. they were formed from the drops of blood dripping from the now two legged Turmoil.
also Turmoil, in this split, had acquired classical gonads. the male form coming from an uneven tear of skin.
the male retained most of the consciousness of the change and so unlike the female, had more beastial structure. a skull more like that of a crocodile, and the herbivore relatives, than the ‘personal’ female.
still this didn’t fix the internal strife of male turmoil. so he exiled from self the:
scavengers, like herbivores, not befitting his ego,
dietary preferences/wants/needs in conflict within about what to eat/hunt – in the form of different predatory species.
non-necessary wants. exiling the risky and grandiose extravagances, in favor of control.
keeping the best, and most powerful traits for himself. this process was long and painful, and created intense conditioning- soon he forgot about his split gender. in favor of the id’s basal desire to posture and dominate. he forgot that the origin of need of ‘her’ came from need of self to be okay. and that posturing to ‘her’ was just less audible reverberations of the need for cogent integrity.
meanwhile, she wasn’t of less conflict although the struggle was physically less dramatic. she had assumed far greater proportion of self hatred, and with it tied to less tacit traits, and more conflict of perceived equal weight but in opposing directions making the internal disagreements in her mind without finality- without resolution.
so when she similarly tore, much of the tearing was without pattern.
from the conceited love of self came the narcissistic hate of self through frustration towards topical incapacity. “i can’t shine like the sun, love like the moon, care like the earth, or design like the rain; so who/what am i?”
eventually he and she remet. and as one does when they find a complementary form, they were struck first by awe, then love. she was so lovely he didn’t even remember her, and was enchanted by the new character. she had torn herself from earthly form to mysty spirit, a vision and mirage of the former self both sought to reclaim.
but things were not filled with glimmering joy for long. for they only knew how to abuse, how to be predatory. attempting to eliminate weakness and vulnerability as though such fitness was without cost.
he had become beastial terror- Nature himself. while she had become a whispy spirit who had similarly unconsciously honed her capacity to inflict emotional guilt, she had become a banshee culture herself.
because they had been alone for so long, even when previously together and not realizing it, they never learned to care sufficiently for others. so each naturally would exert harm upon the other unintentionally and get surprised when there was recompense.
and so they fight in an eternal ironic conflict:
nature against culture,
desire against pretense,
muscle against emotion
Chimera and phoenix and whisps, few are all and none are even one. It is because as you become more of one extreme you also become more of others, because there is overlay of the various paradigms. To be more than one you have to comprimize and rationalize a break of integrity for further pursuit of your bias.
To be the most empowered chimera, you must be able to get phoenix to support you through compelling ideals, and you must have comparable understand of nature to get the whisps behind you. So to further self empower, you must compromise the outward tacit expression of greed for values of the other demographics. Similarly to truly empower yourself as a whisp you have to have a protected place in society indulging traditional platitudes you find meritless and irrelevant or against your practice at face value, because without huge group investment you are the limit to your idea’s expression. As for phoenix, without the empowerment of having competitive capacity for technical skills, or the drive for power, the zeal and passion doesn’t really matter.
The fact of the matter though rarely used is that chimera my their adaptive bias tend to be personally/individually stronger and more capable than the individuals of other groups, however what the other groups lack by having scruples and ideals, they make up with their multitude. A flock of phoenix, or a technologically empowered whisp, is more powerful than chimera.
And that is the irony of personal empowerment, by focusing on immediate self-gratification and schisming oneself from one’s group by neglecting to share labours, one denigrates their character and can cause the group to lash out or scapegoat the individual through hyperbolic rhetoric a pretence of vindication to validate the virtue and veracity of ‘vengeance’ really grounded in envy/hate of not-self and the brutal groups are less often willing to do such acts to their own.
You are not truly in control of your meaning. You exist in a society which will project meanings upon you and these meanings will caricature your humanity to a grotesque and deformed sense of self you will likely be ashamed of, however even though you can’t control how people perceive you can control what they perceive. You can grant personal association with caricatures they appreciate or are biased to associate with.
so how do we reconcile? Through the grace and balance and recognition of what you present beyond who you are. Which paradigm is most like you? Are you most like the whisps who base things on objective reality, or do you prefer allegations and anecdote, or due to prefer to have basal idolatry of idealism? (whisp, chimera, phoenix respectively).
Now from those values you hold as paramount, find value in the other ones. If you are:
whisp perhaps find
chimera as competitive implements of utility.
phoenix as nobly holding to things of truth though naïve and deluded about which things are accurate and worth knowing.
chimera perhaps find
whisp as a means to power through technical compensation. “mind over matter is an appeal to magic. Matter over mind bludgeons in comprehension”
Phoenix as a means to power though social compensation. “if you want it done right do it yourself, if you want lots of work done, train others.”
phoenix perhaps find
whisp as people who hold an ideal of that which is, astrology of evidence
chimera as proud heros, living legends. People who are foolhardy in ambition but still of noble ideals. Those who strive to make themselves into an ideal, as opposed to protect the ideal.
how ever you find the groups irrationally, find a way to rationally appreciate all of them, and internalize how they think to rise beyond their ability to be able to disempower, and counter their criticism with similar reasoning for the humor of it. However, Don’t expect to convert people you ridicule or criticise though. Telling people answers in the context of conversation tends to lead them to a defensive and stubborn position called ‘argument’ and many things which are critical of that ‘axiom’ will be considered strawmen, as it doesn’t line up with their emotional sense of self. And if your criticism does personally resonate it comes across as ad hominem.
Ask them to figure out their circumstance in their own words, by respectfully/kindly using analogy and by offering questions which make them venture shared values. It isn’t the con-artist/car-salesmen style of trying to make people just say “yes” a bunch to condition them agreeable and then to change the topic, but rather to ply their critical thinking towards the weak parts of their paradigm through critical analysis of a pseudonym ideology. They wont necessarily change while chatting with you but it will plant seeds of integrity. And they may change in response to your aid, just when they don’t remotely consider the change to be a loss of face/esteem. To increase the likelihood of them coming out as changed it can’t seem to be a topic of importance; if you let a topic seem to define a person you interact with, the person will pick up on it. If it is just a topic that naturally comes into conversation, especially about 3rd party groups, the speaker/respondent will be more honest and speak in earnest. And if the person doesn’t consider you an enemy, they will be more open to your consideration. Which is why it is best to not raise standards of dogma or ideal or association or group membership. And both first and second person statements/queries raise those defences. So avoid testimony of “i am a-” or accusatory “are you a-”, these are ‘benediction’ of prejudice.
you will be able to understand the mechanisms at play if you do this impartial analysis, of therapeutically allowing others to talk through their problems vicariously. And if you understand the mechanistic manner in which others consider you will learn the loss and follies of your own bias until you can understand the other persons natively/fluently; as though their bias was your own.
I am hell, I’m not the others, the others are hell too, I am fully aware how much hell lays within everything around me, everything burns me, my skin has grown so fragile, I hurt and burn in intolerance and vindictive thoughts at all moment. I am hell but I’m unable to find the fire that is consuming me, I’m unable to see it is rooted in me.
I’m the burning offspring of the stupid. blinded, conformist, jealous and unevolved phoenix. I despite my cast and their beliefs, I’m not like them, they are hell. You’re special, handcrafted by god himself, you’re made at his very own image, so I am GOD, i don’t need them, i don’t need their god, I am GOD and I am HELL. I am the future of evolution, what humans are meant to become.
I am unique and special, above of all cuz one thing those stupid phoenix were right about, I am better than everyone around me, they told me all the time how special and unique I was, and that’s the one truth they had to share. But I am hell and the world rejects me because I am the only one right, they’re all wrong and get blinded by envy and ignorance, they can’t see I am better, they can’t see they are hell.
I am hell.
Original ink and chracoal on regular paper
Prompt here https://inkfell.wordpress.com/2013/08/02/strife/