The Consummate

Friendship.

Posted in Uncategorized by the consummate on May 30, 2009

I’m just wondering why we can’t be friends? I’m ok with it. Nothing more, nothing less. Hope you can find it in your heart to try it.

Friendship.

It suits us better anyway…

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Expensive Meal.

Posted in art, artists by the consummate on May 28, 2009

Kleineh Machashafeh.

Posted in art by the consummate on May 22, 2009

Kleineh Machashafeh.

Kleineh: small, little.

Machashafeh:(mach-uh-shay-feh): a witch, a conjurer, someone with psychic or supernatural powers.

Peace Pilgram.

Posted in art, photography, spirituality by the consummate on May 22, 2009

This is the way of peace: “Overcome evil with good, falsehood with truth, and hatred with love.” – Peace Pilgrim

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Social Fabrications.

Posted in art, health, spirituality by the consummate on May 19, 2009

 

Image by Silvino Mendonca

Image by Silvino Mendonca

“I gave way to delight, as mystics have for centuries when they peeked through the curtains and discovered that this world- so manifestly real was actually a tiny stage set constructed by the mind. We discover abruptly that everything we accept as reality is just social fabrications. – Timothy Leary, 1966

Submerge.

Posted in art, health, photography, spirituality by the consummate on May 19, 2009
Toni Frissell, 1947

Toni Frissell, 1947

I have argued that every human being is born with an innate drive to experience altered states of consciousness periodically — in particular to learn how to get away from ordinary ego-centered consciousness. I have also explained my intuition that this drive is a most important factor in our evolution, both as individuals and as a species. Nonordinary experiences are vital to us because they are expressions of our unconscious minds, and the integration of conscious and unconscious experience is the key to life, health, and spiritual development, and fullest use of our nervous systems. – Andrew Weil, M.D.

“Speak to Us of Love”

Posted in art, artists by the consummate on May 18, 2009

alchemy

Then said Almitra, “Speak to us of Love.”

And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said:

When love beckons to you follow him,

Though his ways are hard and steep.

And when his wings enfold you yield to him,

Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.

And when he speaks to you believe in him,

Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,

So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.

He threshes you to make you naked.

He sifts you to free you from your husks.

He grinds you to whiteness.

He kneads you until you are pliant;

And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,

Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,

Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.

Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;

For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather, I am in the heart of God.”

And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.

But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:

To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;

And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;

To return home at eventide with gratitude;

And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

– excerpt from THE PROPHET by Khalil Gibran