“I am constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, to explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones.”
— Franz Kafka
Our truest selves and emotions cannot be communicated, they can only be experienced. Oh we can project like nobody’s business. We see someone in a situation similar to ones that we have been in and they seem to be expressing close to the same emotions and for a second we flash back. we feel good that we have become so empathic yet true empathy is rare. In reality we are locked inside our own heads pretending yet not to pretend can often be worse. Better though is if we can turn off the head show and really for just one moment perceive not only another person’s perceptions but another person’s heart. Oh it happens. At times if we’re some particular combination of lucky and open to it, something can jolt us enough out of ourselves that for an instance we can feel the heart of the world. All too soon tho we are locked back in our heads again and it will take years to process what we’ve experienced. When this happens we realize that having escaped once from our mental prison, we’ll do everything we can to escape it again.
Blessings, G
“Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.”
— Franz Kafka
The song of my own styling
is a rainbow in the dark
full of broken colours
and long roads
The melody does not sustain
and harmonies are rare
yet there’s magic in the lyrics
and refrain.
I hear it when I’m sleeping
and sing it to the dawn
Its carried in my backpack
and my heart
It’s a sad and joyous tune
a riddle and a plan
yet there are parts
even I don’t understand
yet it holds me in the dark
and it sings me under cloudy skies.
— G A Rosenberg
“The truth is always an abyss. One must — as in a swimming pool — dare to dive from the quivering springboard of trivial everyday experience and sink into the depths, in order to later rise again — laughing and fighting for breath — to the now doubly illuminated surface of things.”
— Franz Kafka
sinking deep and fast
lower in my morass than I’ve been
the surface is too much to bear
and I’ve been trying for far too long.
So I sink
into sorrow, into despair
all the things I’ve scoffed at
safe in books and memories
yet now in my swimming life
I’ve been tossed an anchor
and so go lower
yet as I sink, I shed mass
clothes, dreams, illusions
and reach a point of balance
a brighter clarity than
heretofore offered
I rise fast
buffeted by new understanding.
— G A Rosenberg
“Time is short, my strength is limited, the office is a horror, the apartment is noisy, and if a pleasant, straightforward life is not possible, then one must try to wriggle through by subtle manoeuvres.”
― Franz Kafka
When it comes to creative endeavours, I work best when my conscious mind is distracted. As a young man, I would write my best poetry either in bars or around campfires with people playing music, talking and singing. Now I find I make my best art when I have a movie or television show playing in a corner of my computer screen. When I tell people this they tend to be somewhat incredulous.
“How do you do that? I would never be able to focus?” I have heard from a few people.
Yet when I focus completely on making art, I tend to overthink things and second-guess myself. My conscious mind interferes with the process. When I have something to keep my monkey mind occupied, the good stuff tends to flow easier from whatever creative well I draw from. Oh I make decisions as I go along but they tend to be on the aesthetics and I do relatively little judgement or guessing other than decide whether or not it feels right. I guess the monkey-mind just likes to be entertained.
Blessings, G
Click on images to see full-sized:
Conversation in the Jewelled Fountain by G A Rosenberg
“Youth is happy because it has the capacity to see beauty. Anyone who keeps the ability to see beauty never grows old.”
― Franz Kafka
We were walking towards the car and I kept stopping, entranced by the beautiful shapes the storm clouds were making. They were blending into each other and the distant mountains obscuring in fractal like patterns way superior to any art I’ve ever played with. The people I was with kept walking without even glancing upwards. Even when I pointed it out they grunted in agreement and just kept going. I was puzzled but took a few pictures and then ran to catch up.
This continued on the ensuing ride. We had a fantastic view of the mountains with the clouds mist forming amazing patterns around them highlighted by the moon approaching full overhead. The conversation in the front seat continued oblivious to it. I started to dwell on this a bit. What everyday beauty do I miss in my life and how do I pay attention to more?
Perhaps it is a matter of aesthetics. We all see beauty in different things. One of the wonderful things about most children that I’ve met is that the younger they are the more beauty they perceive. They perceive beauty irrespective of age or youth, irrespective of the brand names of clothes and irrespective of the smooth nature of the skin. Many children seem to be able to perceive beauty in almost everything and everyone. I need to get me some of that perception. It is a power that I realize has faded and I want it back.
Blessings, G
“Anyone who cannot come to terms with his life while he is alive needs one hand to ward off a little his despair over his fate… but with his other hand he can note down what he sees among the ruins.”
Plasma Field by G A Rosenberg 
