<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962</id><updated>2011-11-27T16:54:15.429-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Philosopher's Stone</title><subtitle type='html'>Struggling between reality and metaphysics, light and dark, the fever of feelings and the pain of awakening in the dark</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-3996887247959043219</id><published>2011-10-08T16:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-08T18:11:20.625-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All I Wanna Do Is Write You a Letter</title><content type='html'>I find myself writing music non-stop. There's nothing but music for me.&lt;br /&gt;It encapsulates everything...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-3996887247959043219?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/3996887247959043219/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=3996887247959043219' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/3996887247959043219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/3996887247959043219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2011/10/all-i-wanna-do-is-write-you-letter.html' title='All I Wanna Do Is Write You a Letter'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-1908938282743266376</id><published>2010-02-18T16:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T16:43:05.151-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Predictable America</title><content type='html'>The contradictions of the modern system&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;argument&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.govt's have not changed much since the days of monarchies&lt;br /&gt;and oligarchies.&lt;br /&gt;2.the new changes-- the rise of bureaucracy and the modern political state makes impersonal a very personal system&lt;br /&gt;3.the irony of the situation: the U.S created to run away from govt or have a very limited govt has more govts then anywhere in the world&lt;br /&gt;4.the ideals of slavery and freedom the meaning of these ideals in modern times have a quite different meaning from ancient times when applied to govt people society or politics. &lt;br /&gt;5.Or: the very things gov't tries to avoid end up happening Example: slavery is considered a loss of freedom for the individual in modern society but modern society is characterized by the loss of the individual &lt;br /&gt;6.Inherent contradictions in modern society primarily because the foundations were reactions &lt;br /&gt;7.Primary problem in the U.S with the govt&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Power and Secular Humanism&lt;br /&gt;Because power is always present in any form of govt&lt;br /&gt;working with power not against it is the best way to &lt;br /&gt;manage it.&lt;br /&gt;When we look at the history of the states we can see that the founder's attitude towards power in govt was a negative one, in the sense that their approach toward power involved restraining it, and placing walls around it.&lt;br /&gt;The problem with this approach toward power is that power is not predictable like so many of human plans and establishments&lt;br /&gt;Trying to force something never truly works&lt;br /&gt;They took the approach of force because of their outlook on the world&lt;br /&gt;and because they saw power as equal to corruption&lt;br /&gt;(if that is the true case)&lt;br /&gt;Next, secular humanism was the basis for the govts which were crated in the US &lt;br /&gt;It means that with the development of the nation&lt;br /&gt;and the growth of wealth and the expansion of the govt, that people would be more and more defined by this humanism and it would come to dominate the nation in its entirety&lt;br /&gt;The nation, as fragmented as it is, cannot help being extremely centralized&lt;br /&gt;in fact if you look at something from a different perspective you shall see that nothing is only one way, but everything is a bit of everything&lt;br /&gt;In the sense that everything has “contradictions” &lt;br /&gt;which aren't truly contradictions but rather the existence of multiple layers of meanings. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example&lt;br /&gt;The US in an effort to run from the centralized state of England decided to create small fragmented govts&lt;br /&gt;Okay&lt;br /&gt;Fragmented govts exist&lt;br /&gt;BUT the country is more centralized in ways that England is not ( at the time )&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Example: &lt;br /&gt;England: not centralized in terms of services, schools, regulations, healthcare, practice of govt in local communities&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Centralized: in terms of ….&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.We must question what happens when human beings attempt to&lt;br /&gt;forcefully create change &lt;br /&gt;2.In detail what I am saying is that forcing people to change in terms of non controllable elements such as power, authority, leadership, submission, (typically understood as political things)&lt;br /&gt;and in other ways as well.... be kind, love others, be peaceful, be helpful to others, work well with others, learn in knowledge and wisdom, make good decisions, etc. does not work well at all.&lt;br /&gt;Look at it from a larger picture: those people in mass are the formation/foundations of a political system&lt;br /&gt;A political group designs a way to get everyone to follow along &lt;br /&gt;the general guidelines of the group in modern day this group is known as a system... modern terminology&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other ways to create change:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Change by force:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Coups &lt;br /&gt;Revolutions&lt;br /&gt;Mass Protests&lt;br /&gt;Democracy&lt;br /&gt;Mass Society = conformity&lt;br /&gt;Propaganda/Manipulation&lt;br /&gt;Taxation&lt;br /&gt;Advertisement etc.&lt;br /&gt;Laws and law enforcement &lt;br /&gt;The Judiciary &lt;br /&gt;This represents the modern era.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are other ways to instigate change?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ancient Mechanisms:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cultivated relationships, people learn to trust each other and change can take place through personal struggle and commitment to each other&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Faith&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beliefs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Survival creates a cooperative group&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personal rules establish order:&lt;br /&gt;Always are personal in the sense of:&lt;br /&gt;from husband to wife&lt;br /&gt;parent to child&lt;br /&gt;owner to slave&lt;br /&gt;lover to lover&lt;br /&gt;friend to friend&lt;br /&gt;teacher or mentor to pupil&lt;br /&gt;religious leader to people&lt;br /&gt;king or queen to each person in kingdom&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way a monarchy works &lt;br /&gt;in terms of order is very organic&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;King or Queen must use careful thought in deciding what kind of relationship he or she will have with each member of kingdom&lt;br /&gt;Being partial toward everyone&lt;br /&gt;Of course, no human ruler could possibly be partial toward every single person under their rule, but they still had to TRY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This requires that there is a great deal of wisdom handed down to the new king or queen (personally) from the previous king or queen&lt;br /&gt;In other words, each new ruler, to be a good, successful, very partial ruler, would need to CHANGE him or herself and be humble enough to incorporate that wisdom into their own life and use it to rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The decision making process&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A beggar comes to see a king about a famine which destroyed most of the crops of the village. The beggar is worried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. this king is not wise because he was proud and never wanted to change (never learned the advice on the way to rule from his teacher and coach (the previous king)&lt;br /&gt;b. this king is wise because he was eager to learn all he could and willing to change. He was therefore taught an amount of knowledge and wisdom, comparable to the lives of 100 previous kings, that is how much he learns.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The outcome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;a. the king listens to the beggar. &lt;br /&gt;He doesn't take a lot of time to analyze the situation. Instead, he is really hungry when the beggar shows up, so halfway through the beggar explaining to him the situation, he tells him to leave.&lt;br /&gt;More people arrive a few days later from the same village. &lt;br /&gt;The king listens to their story, and then gives them some money to do what they need to do and leave his presence so he doesnt have to deal with the problem.&lt;br /&gt;Outcome:&lt;br /&gt;He unthinkingly gave money to the lords surrounding the village.&lt;br /&gt;They knew nothing about the crops so all they did was import food and simply stall the situation.&lt;br /&gt;The situation got worse, and little did the king know, this village was the holder of an important source of food for his kingdom. Once it was gone,&lt;br /&gt;a whole new village would have to be created, or another take on this specialization. &lt;br /&gt;This would take years and it would take forever to learn the ways of these particular people who knew their crop so well.&lt;br /&gt;Essentially one bad decision effects everyone in the land&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;b. the king listens to the beggar. He thinks through the ways in which the other kings handled similar situations, and thinks carefully and thoughtfully for a FEW DAYS, in order to make the best decision. &lt;br /&gt;1.He helps to console the poor beggar. He gives him some food and drink and a bath.&lt;br /&gt;2. He meets with the beggar, gets as much info on the pestilence as possible, and sends his men back with the beggar with cages of birds to kill of the pestilence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outcome: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Village defeats the pestilence and the people are saved. This makes the village more confident and so they begin to produce more and become wealthy and bring wealth to the king's kingdom as a result.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over all:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This kind of rule has more transparency&lt;br /&gt;1.One knows exactly who caused a problem&lt;br /&gt;2.Thus the problem can be taken care of with ease&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How to make people change without using force&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ex: christianity- change is at the level of the heart&lt;br /&gt;in families-- love, child obeys his parents and learns to change behavior etc because of that love&lt;br /&gt;in cultures- or in small groups of people-- people who are in need of change (mean person needs to be nicer or something) or in cultures that want change (learn new technique, new way of doing something)&lt;br /&gt;In other words&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;how does change occur within a group of people ( a village, a culture)&lt;br /&gt;a race, etc.&lt;br /&gt;prior to the modern era of change by force?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Questions about reading:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;America is becoming a de facto plutocracy no longer a democracy&lt;br /&gt;Argument:&lt;br /&gt;This will always happen because of the nature of power which cannot be forced to submit to create equality&lt;br /&gt;What appears to be an inherent contradiction in our American situation is really just the evidence of a failure of democracy to distribute power nationally, for the very reason that democracy doesn't really work and is not the best system.&lt;br /&gt;Also,&lt;br /&gt;Another contradiction of sorts:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Capitalism: &lt;br /&gt;Is good in the sense that it works to make people rich and help people prosper individually and privately.&lt;br /&gt;Is bad in the sense that Capitalism does not work well with a democratic system but rather works best with a plutocracy or something of that nature.&lt;br /&gt;This is because:&lt;br /&gt;For Capitalism to work properly, there must be large tax cuts for the wealthy (private persons who deserve to be rewarded for their personal work)&lt;br /&gt;BUT, once again we come back to the same problem as before:&lt;br /&gt;Democracy will not happen because the poor people will remain poor and thus will not receive the education they need or be able to rise to the top as the rich can do and will never be able to serve in public office. Thus, the wealthy elite few will form a plutarchy in the country and democracy is lost.&lt;br /&gt;So to keep this from happening:&lt;br /&gt;Capitalism must be curtailed through various means. However, this hurts the economy because the economy is run by the private companies and as we know, governments do not handle private money in a capitalistic system very well: that is why corporate interest always holds the neck of the political system and country of application.&lt;br /&gt;Therefore it is a circular problem with an “inherent contradiction”.&lt;br /&gt;Which is: Capitalism and Democracy do not mix.&lt;br /&gt;What is the solution?&lt;br /&gt;What kind of government works best with capitalism?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The modern age is very often described as the age of contradictions by Marx and other political and social theorists. I would like to dig deeper and unearth the true nature of these so called contradictions.&lt;br /&gt;The modern age deals with human characteristics which are intangible such as power, greed, authority, rebellion, etc.&lt;br /&gt;And I would argue that these characteristics are addressed through secular humanistic measures. &lt;br /&gt;It is the failure of these measures to provide solutions to these human intangibles that is responsible for the modern contradictions spoken of.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-1908938282743266376?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/1908938282743266376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=1908938282743266376' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/1908938282743266376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/1908938282743266376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2010/02/predictable-america.html' title='Predictable America'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-167016249708431075</id><published>2010-02-18T16:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T16:41:34.491-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"&gt; 	&lt;title&gt;&lt;/title&gt; 	&lt;meta name="GENERATOR" content="NeoOffice 3.0.1  (Unix)"&gt; 	&lt;style type="text/css"&gt; 	&lt;!-- 		@page { margin: 0.79in } 		P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } 	--&gt;&lt;/style&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;American Culture Today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;In today's America, it is strongly frowned upon when someone complains in any way shape or form about their American life. The typical response to such complaints are made in an attempt to ignore the complaint or to change the mind of the complainer. One is “oh grow up and toughen up. Your grandparents hiked 6 miles up a hill in the snow to get an education. You are so lucky. Children in Africa are starving...” you get the idea.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Or, the psychological response...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Oh try this new hand cream, go shopping, pamper yourself, or join a volunteer program, clean your house, change your hair, take more vitamins, go to a shrink, take pills, etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;The average American's solution to overwork is more work. No rest. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;This does not make much sense. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Perhaps it is because the U.S. Is a product of a Protestant work ethic and a special set of Religious beliefs which are imbedded in our culture today?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Why we ask, are citizens non responsive to politics? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Perhaps because they feel that it is wrong or a sign of laziness or weakness to complain?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;We seem to have fully made fun of Emo kids these days, and forgotten about them in pop culture, but we never heard them out, we didn't care to take their messages seriously. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;When do we take anything counter cultural seriously?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;The reason is simple: we live in a culture that values fatigue over rest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;anxiety over happiness, and violence over peace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;I've noticed there are hardly places to sit down in public, outside, especially. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Nothing is very pleasant for sitting... and if you are sitting on a bench, you are stared at by everyone passing by, considered lazy, or something of that sort. No one really speaks to you... you hardly get a nod or a smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Our society values us when we are working and wants to shun us when we are not.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Even our parents treat their children the same way. I'll kick you out of the house if you don't find a job in X amount of time. Why the rush, moms? Are you afraid your son or daughter will “never amount to anything?” &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;According to whose standards? And the kids still in the parents basement smoking pot... what are the parents doing in the mean time? Not spending wholesome, real time with their kids, reaching their kids, playing with their kids, etc. The parents and children of today's America exist in separate worlds, function in compartmentalized frames, parallel universes known as: “kids school, mom and dad's work, dad's car, mom's cell, my friends, her purse, his wallet, her friends, his friends”... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;To Americans, the fact that we all HAVE cell phones, wallets, car keys, take regular showers... is a sign that we are being 'good citizens', 'good parents, good kids'. We have to prove ourselves day in and day out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Alas, there is no sense of real community: the organic, natural kind, like befriending your kids, your neighbor, the old lady down the street, smiling and being kind to random faces you run into every day... this isn't taught to us or considered vital or important at all. We measure how friendly/kind we are by things like social networks or clubs or work buddies. In other words, our expectations for society to be involved are superficial or are rigid, stationary models, like a Victorian corset a woman used to wear. No one can seem to find a solution, or try to find one, maybe because no one sees a need and is courageous enough to find a solution. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Also: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;We teach our children how to be good people as long as they are in the neat little boxes of the system. What about outside those boxes? When no one is looking, what kind of people are we? We care far too much about what society thinks of us... perhaps it is because we are afraid that if we do not follow these social norms we will be shunned by others, or worse, fail in life and at life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Consider the Resume':&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;A person spends their life purposefully doing specific actions in a certain manner in order to write it on a piece of paper which will be reviewed at some point in time by a group of people who that person has never met and might not ever meet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Consider the kinds of actions we Americans consider worthy of our time:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Volunteering is a HUGE one. What ever happened to doing good things because you want to? And besides, this isn't church! Why the emphasis on piety in secular culture? Isn't this strange? Odd? Out of place that we value volunteer work?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;What if what I consider to be a noble action is merely something simple like listening to my professors and really trying to understand them,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;or taking out my neighbors trash for them, or giving money to a homeless person and having a conversation with them, etc. etc. Maybe even just sitting in my room writing a poem! Maybe telling a joke! Maybe I don't like conforming to some arbitrary societal gauge of what is right or wrong when our society is secular, humanistic and denies the existence of God....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Perhaps I hate the way modern society is today.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Because it is a big joke... and everyone knows this joke and says, just be a good boy or girl and just play along. Don't ask questions. Do what you're told.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Will someone explain the huge desire among many people today for a complete separation of church and state, while no one even bothers to ask the extent of the religious impact of the recent past on American society? With no questions asked? No one's educating our kids showing them how much we've been influenced culturally by religion in the past. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;No, we are too proud to admit in our secular world that at one point in time, we all attended church and practiced reading John Calvin. We are too lazy to get out of our comfortable BOXES and question the legitimacy of our country's values, beliefs, standards, and ways of living and being...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;we are far too accepting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 13pt;font-size:100%;" &gt;Don't judge too harshly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-167016249708431075?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/167016249708431075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=167016249708431075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/167016249708431075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/167016249708431075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2010/02/american-culture-today-in-todays.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-2367854620670492246</id><published>2010-01-02T23:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T23:22:32.663-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tug of War</title><content type='html'>Tonight I have been contemplating what it's like living a modern life. I don't really like it, it seems fake to me, the whole individuality thing. To me, you are what you are naturally, no one, no culture can change that. Everyone has always been an individual and also a member of a group since the world began. The modern age certainly places profound emphasis on being a lone wolf, a one of a kind, the Ubermensch. Modern lit glorifies and embellishes rugged individuality, as if it were a good thing. When has it ever been a good thing to be alone and miserable? Marlon Brando and James Dean epitomize the modern obsession with rugged individuality. I have never had a burning desire to BE an individual, I've always been one, I've always wanted to be part of a group. Maybe it's the grass is greener....&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's the modern dilemma, there's no middle ground, it's either or.&lt;br /&gt;Individual or Group&lt;br /&gt;Capitalism or Communism&lt;br /&gt;No in between. Wow. That sucks!&lt;br /&gt;As my good friend Addy nicely put it: "things are getting more extreme today"&lt;br /&gt;I agree with her. Where's the old equilibrium? As the world goes on, things are being pulled away from the middle, political parties, people, just think of the concept of polarity...&lt;br /&gt;bipolar disorder, it's a modern phenomenon that represents the world being "pulled apart"&lt;br /&gt;It's almost like a good game of Tug of War, male and female, everything's being pulled apart.&lt;br /&gt;It's sad, but true.&lt;br /&gt;Society's crumbling and it's not just a disease spreading in the U.S. it's all over the globe.&lt;br /&gt;So what is my choice? To be stuck in a quagmire trying to keep my own equilibrium, a steady in between, I guess that's my choice for the rest of my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-2367854620670492246?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/2367854620670492246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=2367854620670492246' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/2367854620670492246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/2367854620670492246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2010/01/tug-of-war.html' title='Tug of War'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-4728339179982688450</id><published>2009-06-02T12:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-01-02T23:32:06.812-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer of Smooth Sailing</title><content type='html'>My summer was excellent.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-4728339179982688450?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/4728339179982688450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=4728339179982688450' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/4728339179982688450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/4728339179982688450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/06/nervous-ecstatic-excited-about-this.html' title='Summer of Smooth Sailing'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-4318216474587623728</id><published>2009-06-01T00:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T00:54:36.354-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Today i have considered the elements of life&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-4318216474587623728?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/4318216474587623728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=4318216474587623728' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/4318216474587623728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/4318216474587623728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/06/today-i-have-considered-elements-of.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-3922946092806834660</id><published>2009-06-01T00:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-01T00:59:26.563-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Art: A Conversation</title><content type='html'>Tonight, after watching Unbreakable, which I found to be an incredible film, I was considering what it would be like to work in the movie industry, or rather to be involved in the film making process, Hollywood or not. I noticed how many people are involved in this process, how many people it takes to make one film. I began comparing it to life and to jobs in the world in general. I started to think that film making is really a good analogy for life. First off, think of God as creator of the world and all characters in it and everything being under his direction and final say. Compare this description to that of a film director and producer and the creation of a well created film. Each person has an important role and job they will complete. Another way to look at it is to see art as a way of pulling people together for one cause, uniting people. Theater and music groups such as a symphony act in the same manner. Everyone plays a very specific role for a specific purpose. Perhaps that is the problem I have with other jobs which I view to be meaningless in the sense that they don't relate to other jobs, there is no “whole” which these particular jobs serve a purpose for and that is why they don't have a good place in the world. Each person needs a specific place. I want to work somewhere where this is a reality, where jobs have a larger goal, where no person's job seems meaningless or unimportant, or bad, a place where everyone has a job that is equally important. By saying a person's job is equally important I mean in the sense that the movie is what people are all working for, although some people working may have a more lead role in the production, if the man who does the catering is asked what he does and he says I do catering for this film no one will say “oh man that's a bad job”, he will get respect for what he does. I feel like only art related fields offer this kind of job. Everyone will be appreciated and everyone will feel they are a part of something big. The world used to be run this way. In traditions of government and non government work, there wasn't the chaos or fear of losing control well known today in these same realms. People worked together just because. They weren't trying to control the world around them, they accepted it and tried to fulfill their particular role in it. No questions asked. Everyone did what they were told, knowing that the final word came from God, not from them. Their gaze was on the skies, not on the filthiness they saw around them. They had hope in their ability to do well and the ability of God to perfect and correct things whenever he so desired. People in the world today look to politics and science as their savior, the God who will salvage them from the wreckage of life on earth. People have faith in institutions to correct people and things, to straighten and clean things up. The good thing about politics is that it makes people feel they are a part of something bigger than themselves. But, the bigger than themselves is not God, so it is still finite and full of holes and errors. Thus, people end up feeling disappointed no matter who wins an election and no matter how many wrongs have been righted. Politics also divides, art never divides. Instead of having more politics I think art should play a major role in our lives, not just in the business or private sector. The more people work on art projects together, the better off people will be, the more hopeful and positive people will be. Art today is not seen as a necessity. The world looks to science and government and military to solve their most pressing needs without stopping to think that bad things happen to people no matter whether you have medicine, democracy, or weapons of defense. Science government and military all are forms of power used to try to control the world around us. Sure, that may seem right or like the way to address problems in the world, but if bad things happen anyway, why focus all that power on the negative? Why not spend one's life giving to people not taking away from people? Art gives. Art is one of those things that is non biased. It isn't powerful in the controlling kind of way, but it has a power of its own. Can you imagine a world where art played a bigger role than politics or science? It seems crazy to think of, perhaps irreverent even. But its not. In fact, I would argue that that is the way the world used to be “run”. Not by only guys in big suits and people in lab coats, but by music halls and church choirs. Today we still believe, and falsely at that, that we can change the world, that we can make this world a better place through our guns and brains and politics. Knowledge is viewed not for knowledge's own sake but a means to be used for the purpose of making something to better the world, to be made for a specific purpose or end. While the intentions seem really good, this kind of knowledge always goes with power and control. This leaves the human feeling that they are in charge of the world, or they can fix things. It also leaves a lot of people feeling helpless and fearful. The truth is, we would be better off focusing are energies not on the crises themselves, but on the art that comes out of those crises. This is how we can help people, by showing them we have been through the same pains, we have experienced similar joys, we have been awakened by an epiphany that changed our lives and once in art form, can change their lives too. So today, all I want to say is that this is my epiphany. Change the world through art because it is your engagement and interaction with the world around you, but not just the world around you but your specific experience of that world on YOU as a unique individual. No one can truly understand how you feel until you show them through art. Other things in life don't give us hope, they may bring us together as a country like war or a strike do, but they always, always focus on the bad or negative. This is what media does, what politics do. Do we need that? What can feed the human spirit better than to be brought together by a mutual desire to create something that is a profound expression of the human experience? What better way to change lives than to awaken people out of despair and despondency? Art can do this. Want to save someone's life? Sometimes the physical body is not the most important thing in need of salvation, the human spirit is and the human spirit is what is at stake today. Eternal salvation God has, but humans still have one hundred years of their lives on earth that still need saving. The reason that religion and churches are cold and dead today is because they lack art. The people who “run” churches are politicians and scientists, not artists.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-3922946092806834660?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/3922946092806834660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=3922946092806834660' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/3922946092806834660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/3922946092806834660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/06/art-conversation.html' title='Art: A Conversation'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-2026881664906423845</id><published>2009-03-29T19:58:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T19:58:53.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Aura Semblance (old poem)</title><content type='html'>Wrestle with mortality&lt;br /&gt;sharpen your tongue.&lt;br /&gt;arms will yield to the demise of life&lt;br /&gt;resilience is prone to break.&lt;br /&gt;be prostrate, naked and betrayed.&lt;br /&gt;In Passionate, quiet semblance&lt;br /&gt;Illimitable threads are woven&lt;br /&gt;Heavy and secret.&lt;br /&gt;Harbor trust within your walls&lt;br /&gt;Spill me onto your shores&lt;br /&gt;Assume the sins of yesterday&lt;br /&gt;on your brawny, dark form.&lt;br /&gt;Skin ridged with every affection&lt;br /&gt;spent on my whims.&lt;br /&gt;Softened, simple rain&lt;br /&gt;seeping through my uncovered symmetry&lt;br /&gt;envision our world spun gold and sensuous.&lt;br /&gt;The only thing sight finds is&lt;br /&gt;shadowed, torn or evanescent.&lt;br /&gt;My fingers seek your temperament&lt;br /&gt;I feel the glow in your spirit.&lt;br /&gt;Breath catches the rhythm in my breast. &lt;br /&gt;sempiternity, source of serenity.&lt;br /&gt;You are deep&lt;br /&gt;Rising like water&lt;br /&gt;In darkness silver fills the folds along your chest.&lt;br /&gt;Trace the lines of my face with your hands&lt;br /&gt;Carry my curve&lt;br /&gt;I long to touch the cool of your temple&lt;br /&gt;I sense silence trembling&lt;br /&gt;This will be my surrender.&lt;br /&gt;Death shows us all broken dreams.&lt;br /&gt;Night gives us reason to believe&lt;br /&gt;we are shadows, wasted and filled&lt;br /&gt;Silhouettes in moon’s wake, watery and diffused.&lt;br /&gt;The infinite stillness may overwhelm us&lt;br /&gt;till our wearied eyes gasp for light. &lt;br /&gt;He will come as transparent fire&lt;br /&gt;Azure, and wholly divine.&lt;br /&gt;Quickening the time when all we hide will be lifted.&lt;br /&gt;Only dust satisfies our flesh &lt;br /&gt;But someday we will become&lt;br /&gt;exalted ash, transfused in savoir faire.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-2026881664906423845?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/2026881664906423845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=2026881664906423845' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/2026881664906423845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/2026881664906423845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/aura-semblance-old-poem.html' title='Aura Semblance (old poem)'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-1439157713845211113</id><published>2009-03-29T19:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T19:51:33.496-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Euphoria Poem</title><content type='html'>Turn your ear to the weary one who hears&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;all the music in the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look for rhythm as you slide and soar&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;shaking your head fast, faster, fast.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spin me up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Up in arms I’ll be senseless,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;laughing, fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Resting in your red chair&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;stringed instruments&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dazzling undertones&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;sound comes trumpeting through the walls&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and down the path&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;on the water, flickering softly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in moon’s stride.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You and I Flinging madly&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;through a singing sphere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;where clocks break with euphoria.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-1439157713845211113?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/1439157713845211113/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=1439157713845211113' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/1439157713845211113'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/1439157713845211113'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/euphoria-poem.html' title='Euphoria Poem'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-7113280496854642271</id><published>2009-03-29T19:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T19:47:50.771-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Promise</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;-for Hillary&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Come closer.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Look at these trees.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;See how they bend &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;branches stirring green, restless leaves.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Feel my hands.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;They are shaking.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;I once was free and simple &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;spinning energy, laughing softly&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;like these trees.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Now I’ve reached a place too far from here.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Running straight past a forest&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;tearing pieces of golden leaf &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;along the way.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Breathless&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;my heart beats steady.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Young girl,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;in your soul lies a stream.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;It spills into your eyes &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;changing into darker shades&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;of turquoise green.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Your smile speaks to me&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;like waves breaking on a ridge.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;I am watching time begin to&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;play all our dreams &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;with passionate strokes.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Water fills my eyes&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Tears fall upon the keys.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;My fingers won’t stop chasing notes.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;listen closely to what they say.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;We may be shadows&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;curving lines when silver moon peeks out at night.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Or pieces of the sky.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;One thing you must always remember.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;You might never be told who you really are.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;We can never stop this turning world to be at peace with pain. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Look at the sky.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;See the way brilliant sun catches us all on fire?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Young girl, one thing is true.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Our memories are real&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;like the freckles on your skin.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Even when you are broken,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;believe.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Come closer.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Look at these trees.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;See how they awaken with&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;the promise of new Spring?&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-7113280496854642271?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/7113280496854642271/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=7113280496854642271' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/7113280496854642271'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/7113280496854642271'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-promise.html' title='My Promise'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-201335948318983863</id><published>2009-03-29T19:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T19:44:56.854-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Night When The Moon...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The night When The Moon...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Edge of night&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;comes swiftly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;spill of birds, multiplying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Grey erodes the ground.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Hair, soft as light &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Back turned to the glowing street&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Where water shines, clean.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Rain sends echoes through the windows of the slowing cars that pass.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Enter into my world and see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;how quickly rain can fill &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;the hollows of my soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She told me to stop crying&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;One day I would wake and find &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;purity in the unclean&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;life would surpass destruction.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I have tried out-running my own fears,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;silencing my wavering speech&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;But like a wall of darkness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;harnessed with every evil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;She finds me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Hidden and sleepless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Cupping my face in my hands&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Legs pulled tight to my skin.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;I watch shadows form on the face &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;of every moving thing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;The earth breathes under me&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I seep these hands in dirt,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;grief weighty on my shoulders,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;years of toil buried deep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I am illuminated dust &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;fractions of truth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Resurrection of the void &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;could delay these closing eyes. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Berylium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-201335948318983863?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/201335948318983863/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=201335948318983863' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/201335948318983863'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/201335948318983863'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/night-when-moon.html' title='The Night When The Moon...'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-7935554645708741583</id><published>2009-03-29T19:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T19:42:23.540-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tides (Poem)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;    &lt;/span&gt;In your eyes I am the pulse of light&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;yellow riveting the world at dawn.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;In the cold I am numb &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;becoming shadows in ice.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;My weight becomes one liquid motion&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;spilling into the creases of scourged sand.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Solid, deep heart, listen to the tides&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;falling fast and sucking in great waves&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;with every cry.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:100%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-7935554645708741583?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/7935554645708741583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=7935554645708741583' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/7935554645708741583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/7935554645708741583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/tides-poem.html' title='Tides (Poem)'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-8538074443126783645</id><published>2009-03-29T19:27:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T19:39:40.085-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Resting (A Song)</title><content type='html'>Bring me broken words and I will mend them&lt;br /&gt;Offer me an open hand and I will give you&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moving pictures in my minds eye&lt;br /&gt;Color dripping from the corners of a canvas I am sheltering&lt;br /&gt;Dreaming of risking all I have to save a cool light&lt;br /&gt;Tinge of white&lt;br /&gt; on your face dips into my poetry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bring me linen and I will sew for you&lt;br /&gt;Stars and verses from our conversations&lt;br /&gt;Lay your cheek upon my shoulder&lt;br /&gt;and as the room begins to dim&lt;br /&gt;to a softer hue&lt;br /&gt;I will waltz with you&lt;br /&gt;to the doorway of your conscience&lt;br /&gt;where joy consumes us there&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For where I am resting&lt;br /&gt;Is when you are there&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-8538074443126783645?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/8538074443126783645/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=8538074443126783645' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/8538074443126783645'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/8538074443126783645'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/resting-song.html' title='Resting (A Song)'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-6078226229988540475</id><published>2009-03-29T19:27:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T19:27:30.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gettin There (A Folk Song)</title><content type='html'>Well it seems we're all goin to hell maybe slowly but we're all gettin there&lt;br /&gt;never ready, he said we'd never be prepared&lt;br /&gt;thank the doctor who brings the ease&lt;br /&gt;in the medicine of our own disease&lt;br /&gt;which spreads like lies through the trees&lt;br /&gt;but we bow our heads and pray&lt;br /&gt;hopin someone will remember us for what we saw that day&lt;br /&gt;when the coffins came a rolling down our homes and halls&lt;br /&gt;disaster in our fingers when he broke our jaw&lt;br /&gt;we can't shutter in a camera's eye&lt;br /&gt;cuz its too messy and you know we all just&lt;br /&gt;wanna kick down the door and cry&lt;br /&gt;Cuz we're scared we're all gonna die&lt;br /&gt;and we wear down our innocence&lt;br /&gt;down smoking tracks we drive&lt;br /&gt;shedding jackets of despair&lt;br /&gt;in the alleyways its dark, too dark to care&lt;br /&gt;but the glow ahead is strong enough&lt;br /&gt;to make us weep&lt;br /&gt;so we lay in our misery and sleep&lt;br /&gt;one eye open to watch out for thieves&lt;br /&gt;over barges and freight cars&lt;br /&gt;we'll let our frozen wives creep&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-6078226229988540475?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/6078226229988540475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=6078226229988540475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/6078226229988540475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/6078226229988540475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/gettin-there-folk-song.html' title='Gettin There (A Folk Song)'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-8964699253720413244</id><published>2009-03-29T19:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T19:23:11.818-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ruined Creek</title><content type='html'>Down here, the sky cries bitter tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strips clean down to jagged bones of the valley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earth turns her soil sour colors,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exposes veins and arteries,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Swelling as the sky grows closer still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somewhere above the steam,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bold blue mountains furrow brows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Smells of sulphur rise,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Creek storm surge and carnage&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vomiting toxins and gases, turns over a broken back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boulder eyes rolled backward&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fixed on convulsing currents slammed upon them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instantaneously, shattered glass.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-8964699253720413244?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/8964699253720413244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=8964699253720413244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/8964699253720413244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/8964699253720413244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/ruined-creek.html' title='Ruined Creek'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-1266754863065254496</id><published>2009-03-29T19:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T19:20:56.819-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fragile Poem</title><content type='html'>Fragile&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Held up by threads&lt;br /&gt;of condensed air,&lt;br /&gt;blue lungs convulse&lt;br /&gt;from swallowing&lt;br /&gt;yellow gases.&lt;br /&gt;A boom descends on wilted hands&lt;br /&gt;Battered heads&lt;br /&gt;revolve in metal baskets&lt;br /&gt;Glass bones splinter&lt;br /&gt;then explode.&lt;br /&gt;All are fragile cells:&lt;br /&gt;pressured, we break.&lt;br /&gt;Two ruthless wars&lt;br /&gt;sunk their teeth into&lt;br /&gt;our fabric, ripping out&lt;br /&gt;seams with bulging, ghoulish eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Plaid are poor souls,&lt;br /&gt;whose colors bled deep feverish red.&lt;br /&gt;When sharp arms descended,&lt;br /&gt;sheared our souls in two.&lt;br /&gt;From out the junk yard&lt;br /&gt;Golden light seeps.&lt;br /&gt;Heaped in this steamy&lt;br /&gt;jungle,&lt;br /&gt;tops of cathedrals,&lt;br /&gt;empty swing sets,&lt;br /&gt;jeweled crests&lt;br /&gt;and TV sets.&lt;br /&gt;Sitting atop the carnage&lt;br /&gt;history books lie quietly,&lt;br /&gt;pages torn from trembling leaves.&lt;br /&gt;As hours pass,&lt;br /&gt;Machines turn over blackened remains.&lt;br /&gt;Night belongs here&lt;br /&gt;to give ashen skin shelter&lt;br /&gt;from the roaring sun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-1266754863065254496?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/1266754863065254496/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=1266754863065254496' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/1266754863065254496'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/1266754863065254496'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/fragile-poem.html' title='Fragile Poem'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-8140559919919441293</id><published>2009-03-16T20:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T21:07:09.413-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Shadow</title><content type='html'>For my brother&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you read my silence&lt;br /&gt;and catch lingering smiles?&lt;br /&gt;I am seated behind you&lt;br /&gt;In a room where speech is bitter.&lt;br /&gt;Do I soften your mood?&lt;br /&gt;Like a rattling door&lt;br /&gt;A shattering glass,&lt;br /&gt;Do I fall on stiff ears like a bridled horse refusing to bite its bit?&lt;br /&gt;Do my words return to envelope your thoughts&lt;br /&gt;does my presence burden your river mind?&lt;br /&gt;I am watching you&lt;br /&gt;closing my lids to see you clearer, sensitively.&lt;br /&gt;Hand slips to your side, pockets your insecurities.&lt;br /&gt;Chest and shoulders carry you higher so you project.&lt;br /&gt;I am listening.&lt;br /&gt;Words are cheap, but your heart lifts them.&lt;br /&gt;They take off like Arabians racing, and wear metallic suits&lt;br /&gt;to win me over.&lt;br /&gt;I believe because I trust, I am gilding my world with your gold.&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly you stop, begin again with more emphasis and less&lt;br /&gt;confidence. You are lost and weary of mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;I try to help, but you push away.&lt;br /&gt;How can you hold back so much?&lt;br /&gt;Keep feelings under your skin.&lt;br /&gt;I think and lose my focus.&lt;br /&gt;I have blinked and you have gone on without me,&lt;br /&gt;raising the world with depth and fixed assurance&lt;br /&gt;when what we seek is unfathomable.   &lt;br /&gt;You and I don’t understand much.&lt;br /&gt;but can we ever win the heart of God?&lt;br /&gt;You have begun again, now with the piano to guide.&lt;br /&gt;The keys ring and heave under weighty fingers&lt;br /&gt;Breath keeping rhythm, catches in your chest.&lt;br /&gt;The sun lifts our spirits,&lt;br /&gt;Music allures us.&lt;br /&gt;Your Inversions are good and you play with delight&lt;br /&gt;thrusting me into a storm of intense wonder.&lt;br /&gt;Something gets caught in the notes&lt;br /&gt;and you stumble and stop.&lt;br /&gt;How can you hold back so much?&lt;br /&gt;Keep feelings under your skin.&lt;br /&gt;My heart has won your understanding,&lt;br /&gt;but I blink&lt;br /&gt;and you have lost mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-8140559919919441293?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/8140559919919441293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=8140559919919441293' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/8140559919919441293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/8140559919919441293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/shadow.html' title='Shadow'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-265513103016104609</id><published>2009-03-16T19:59:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T19:59:38.848-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Strange Elements Poem</title><content type='html'>Who is this stranger which puts us out of ease,&lt;br /&gt;a gusty wind ruffling our layers&lt;br /&gt;chilling us to the bone?&lt;br /&gt;Who brings the breaks that stall our furious pace?&lt;br /&gt;Shake us till our change drops loose.&lt;br /&gt;Pockets of sun send us off panting into a deserted place.&lt;br /&gt;Wild stripes send thrills through our eyes.&lt;br /&gt;Torrential light broods in our feet,&lt;br /&gt;Carried away like granules of sand,&lt;br /&gt;we wear out our fevered hands&lt;br /&gt;tapping out words muted lips can't speak.&lt;br /&gt;A swell is coming riding with an ancient scroll.&lt;br /&gt;Sundering the hills, rippling like melted lava,&lt;br /&gt;Swearing blood on all rooted trees&lt;br /&gt;who strip their bark, giving vagrants&lt;br /&gt;rest in their eaves as music stirs to&lt;br /&gt;awaken all fallen drops from their leaves.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-265513103016104609?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/265513103016104609/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=265513103016104609' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/265513103016104609'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/265513103016104609'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/strange-elements-poem.html' title='Strange Elements Poem'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-2507088849046398351</id><published>2009-03-16T19:56:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T19:59:04.875-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Clear The Air Poem</title><content type='html'>State has new traditions:&lt;br /&gt;tune out what our enemies say&lt;br /&gt;tune the dial to static,&lt;br /&gt;for despised voices will be silenced.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Flashing blue turns fuzzy, rain on pavement smears&lt;br /&gt;the bloody hand prints.&lt;br /&gt;Badges burn citations,&lt;br /&gt;clocks stop over technicalities&lt;br /&gt;for caffeine turns cold hot blooded men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside, pure noise reigns.&lt;br /&gt;impatient eyes won't stand for interruption&lt;br /&gt;of baseball bats and beatings,&lt;br /&gt;boozy brains of breaking fathers, crazed lovers&lt;br /&gt;spitting on each other in televised trauma&lt;br /&gt;which holds applause in living rooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In far places,&lt;br /&gt;bullets blow away faces&lt;br /&gt;Nameless hordes of white collars&lt;br /&gt;stand in file on payday.&lt;br /&gt;Traffic along borders is freed with powder&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An instant switch and power is&lt;br /&gt;Electricity gives powers a plethora of data&lt;br /&gt;Booming blather&lt;br /&gt;computing frequencies of piffle&lt;br /&gt;Energy to litter the world with words&lt;br /&gt;not meant for weeping.&lt;br /&gt;Burn and singe the wires&lt;br /&gt;And wait for bells to ring again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-2507088849046398351?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/2507088849046398351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=2507088849046398351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/2507088849046398351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/2507088849046398351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/clear-air-poem.html' title='Clear The Air Poem'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-6647592100573128447</id><published>2009-03-16T19:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T19:56:54.575-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time Poem</title><content type='html'>Lifeless brain,&lt;br /&gt;Caught again trying to tame time,&lt;br /&gt;Enshrouding it with numbers&lt;br /&gt;Monotonously we beat figures into our heads.&lt;br /&gt;Glorious feat!&lt;br /&gt;We have quelled the struggling one,&lt;br /&gt;Restricted the flow of the tempest to&lt;br /&gt;banded symbols in our calm,&lt;br /&gt;calculating minds. Our futility shows when&lt;br /&gt;true time breaks lose, it is not so secure,&lt;br /&gt;no solid thing spills out but fluid life.&lt;br /&gt;Breaking out of a case it drips off the edge and dries up.&lt;br /&gt;We bottle it, roping it in, holding it down with a paper weight.&lt;br /&gt;Hysterical heads tipped back,&lt;br /&gt;we proliferate paper dolls, dozens of flimsy faces&lt;br /&gt;silently stare, each vacuous like its mitigated mouth.&lt;br /&gt;Time is pierced into our planners, our days are not golden leaves but shriveled petals.&lt;br /&gt;We move in blindness, never to salvage our bleeding dreams from a self inflicted wreckage.&lt;br /&gt;In sterilized labs we stabilize clocks.&lt;br /&gt;Wrenching each screw into place,&lt;br /&gt;We drill to silence our own reckless hearts,&lt;br /&gt;Confining under a glass lid a surge of feral swells.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-6647592100573128447?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/6647592100573128447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=6647592100573128447' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/6647592100573128447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/6647592100573128447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/time-poem.html' title='Time Poem'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-748777291990002793</id><published>2009-03-16T19:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T19:56:02.308-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Puerile Mindset</title><content type='html'>Modernity has shown to human beings uncontrollable, destructive forces, which knock us to our feet leave us stripped of our dignity by tearing apart our carefully crafted world. The modern concept of government and economy have two things in common: The first being our incredulousness over the fact that terrorism, hunger, poverty, war, crime and pain can, and do happen to us, and happen all the time without our consent.&lt;br /&gt;    Secondly, this world is not a static entity. In fact, is it quite the contrary. The globe we live on is a stormy sea where calm can never be predicted or kept for long. Because the world is defined by change, and unruly gusts of events that throw our ships off course, it would logically follow that humanity has discovered this truth to be self evident and has adjusted properly to such a reality. It is, in all honesty, quite the contrary.&lt;br /&gt;    The Ancients were wise, much wiser than the modern man because they understood and accepted the changing world as a simple truth. This affected their lives so that they looked at their role in the world as subject to the phenomenon around them. Modern man has his head in a cloud. The Enlightenment ideals of such philosophers as Descartes, Hume, Locke, and Rousseau have given him the vision that man can actually 'solve' problems the world presents and sit back, rest, and relax while pondering new ideas. For example, the way government is handled, is in a very idealistic manner, as if the existence of problems could be resolved simply by theorizing and working it out. History, Sociology, and Political textbooks show war, economic downtimes, racial conflicts, etc. as strange phenomenon that should be stopped immediately, and once they are, they will never happen again. The notion of progress is completely absurd and foolish. Modern man thinks he is far ahead of the past, that he has finally subdued nature and is in control of all that surrounds him. The problem with the 21st century, is that every person is in shock or awe when something bad happens. For example, the present economic crisis has sent millions of people in a tailspin. Everyone wants to know how it happened? Why? And how to prevent it from happening again. What every person fails to acknowledge is the fact that perfection didn't exist before. Whoever said the economy was doing well five years ago was wrong. Which economy? Nothing new has happened, that hasn't happened before. The scientific mind of modern man is obsessed with perfection. Modern man thinks he can perfect himself and the world around him. What happens when something goes wrong? He has to begin again, this time, with more problems than before. The world appears to be becoming more and more complex. It is just as complex as it was thousands of years ago. What has changed? The constant of change, the cycle of the world in motion. People who accepted the simple truth of change were the ones who created monarchies, developed traditions, rich cultures, and above all, rested. The modern world cannot rest because modern man hasn't realized that he can't halt the motion, or hinder the unknown. If he did, he would be spending his time creating beautiful things, building relationships, and enjoying his work, his time, no matter how long or short it might be. He did not complain, revolt, throw out his existence as it is. He was aware of pain, felt it, saw it, created it. But he did not try to escape from it, solve it, or rename it. He was a lover, not a scientist. His world, though always on shaky ground, was very solid. The ancient world developed permanence, while modern man develops emptiness. The ancient world left a thirst for wonder, while modern man is quarreling for control. The modern world is childish because it tries to fit scientific models on a wild, unharnessed world.&lt;br /&gt;    If a sense of mystery, intrigue, and curiosity is gone it is because humans have forgotten how to see with their own eyes. Instead, they substitute their eyes with a telescope, a microscope, a camera lens, or a scope on a machine gun. The lesson to learn here is this. The world is made of change. Human life is one of transition. Starting from this simple truth, one can see immediately what can and cannot be done. Fixing the economy, creating the best system of government, developing better technology, all these things are really very petty goals for any human being to have. Building foundations from real dirt, instead of castles in the sky is a wiser way to spend one's life.&lt;br /&gt;    Besides our desire for control, there is a contradictory force in all of us that goes against our own reason and judgment. We don't realize we even have it, but it is there, deep within the core of our being. It is the urge to destroy. The desire to break what we've made, ruin our progress, tear everything apart and burn it. This desire comes from our desperation for more, our feeling that this world is inadequate, and cannot provide. We seek fulfillment, and this world won't bring it to us. So we are tired of trying, and so we destroy. Secondly, we want to destroy because we want to test our lives and see what is real, if it is real. We are disappointed when life doesn't work out, because then we know deeply, and profoundly that we are fallen, and separated from the true reality that defines us and gives us meaning. The place we are wanted then most isn't around so we search for satisfaction on earth and its no where to be found. We need disappointment even though we, in our rational minds don't think so. Another problem with science is that it tricks us. We are so reliant on our reason that we fail to recognize there are other factors within us, working against our reason, so we are self defeated and then, we don't know why.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-748777291990002793?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/748777291990002793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=748777291990002793' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/748777291990002793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/748777291990002793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/puerile-mindset.html' title='A Puerile Mindset'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-1316181433225453195</id><published>2009-03-16T19:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T19:49:37.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Estranged From Reality</title><content type='html'>Estranged From Reality&lt;br /&gt;Reality in one's mind begs for much consistency, it lacks much tangible, plausible, or reoccurring reality. The fact is that a man will try very hard to develop a consistent, stable reality in his mind and then try to construct this reality physically in the world, trying to fit the created model in his head with the life that he knows tangibly, physically, and in his memory. This trial is one that does not go well, the model in his mind cannot fit with Reality as a whole, but it will only fill a small corner of Reality, the part that is his perspective of Reality. Although this perspective is not wrong or inconsistent with Reality as a whole, it is misleading because it is only a portion of a much larger, more complex Reality in which he has no control, and no notion to construct or understand.&lt;br /&gt;    One might ask the question, what is this one Reality that is universally known by all people, a perspective of reality that all agree upon? It is a particular level or mode of existence that can be confirmed by all when a group of people gather together in one space, or in the same place and acknowledge that they are all experiencing this reality verbally. When as a collective body this group of people agree upon this reality's legitimacy, for example, I see you, you see me, I agree that we are looking at the same stars together, this is in fact a unified reality, and a “stable” reality. It is stable because it is not merely in one's mind, but is confirmed physically by vocal pronunciation by more than one individual. It is the collective consciousness of these people which does not create a model of reality, but rather acknowledges together, the existence of what is already there.&lt;br /&gt;    Once the group of people have left this particular place in which they are gathered together they are now subject to not a collective reality, but subjected to the flux and constant stream of reality their own minds concoct. This is why it is not good for man to be isolated from people for too long, because he will go mentally insane. It is because Reality as a whole vanishes when he is given to the pure lucid, stream of “floating” reality his mind propagates for him.&lt;br /&gt;    Physical, constant, tangible place is inherently imperative to human sanity, growth, and the development of human psyches and relationships. To keep individuals from “floating away” into the vast, effervescent flux of their own mind's realities, they need fundamental principles, anchors to keep them from falling away unintentionally and eternally. Spacial stability is vital for people to remain in touch with a universal Reality, the whole reality, above mentioned. Modern forms of technology do not allow for stability of mind, or spacial attentiveness. It promotes constant distraction because it is constantly flashing, showing the eye a change, a movement, which is exciting to the brain which regards it as a novelty, and gives it attention. The various branches of technology that destroy the human mind are the cell phone, the television, the computer. These things are very bad for the mind because they hinder the ability for the human mind to settle down into a unified Reality with others. If a human mind makes a connection with another human mind, in a vocal way, they are connecting to this greater Reality and thus confirming their existence, their psyches, their sanity, and their humanity. Over time, technology destroys the mind's ability to focus for a long time on this greater reality, and humans then spend most of their time “floating” in the ebb and flow of their own lucid mind's realities.&lt;br /&gt;    Having a home, a physical, tangible place is very important for human's. Familiar faces, identifiable physical objects such as chairs, tables, lamps, etc. should be kept in the same place and not shifted or moved around much. There must be permanency. Consistent leaders in government, unchanging cultural norms, predictability in careers, religious affiliations, and family units.&lt;br /&gt;    Erosion is happening today because there is less vocalized agreement on the existence of Reality. Humans are becoming more and more alienated from other humans and are therefore subject to the cruel reality tricks their mind constantly creates. The more alone an individual is, and the more they are allowed to entertain the circus acts their minds perform, the less in touch with reality they are, and the more psychotic and erratic their behavior becomes.&lt;br /&gt;    Moral relativity, actually, the attitude of relativity everyone has today is at root, caused by this divorce from Reality. Human's are too distracted by the constant change that technology gives. This gives the feeling of permanent motion, the flightiness and feeling of floating, which is deceptively thought of as individual freedom. Human minds are distracted so much that any resting one might do seems obtrusive and actually very frightening to the mind. This restlessness, inability to ground oneself in one place, the rebellion against growing roots, or halting one's motion, is dangerous and destructive to human beings.&lt;br /&gt;    Instead of growing roots, a man becomes like a spoiled child. Analogous to a tree, he will pluck his leaves as soon as they grow, tear out the seams from his clothes, yank out his hair when frustrated, and beat his chest to death. He will pick at his flaws, unable to deal with the realities of his own existence, or the permanency of his own flesh. He will become an idealist, a perfectionist, a beast, a psychopath, constantly bolting from responsibility, even the own reality of his existence. If he is unhappy with it, he will create a different identity. Whichever identity suits him at the moment is what he will take hold of. Perfectionism is easy, that and idealistic, irrational thinking. It is the adrenaline that keeps us excited to move through life, and with this adrenaline constantly shot into our veins there can be no stabile reality, no permanent human being aware of his own existence. The only reality that exists is that which is in our own minds, the ever changing, lucid, stormy sea that creates insane men who have no grasp of themselves, their lives, or their connection to someone else's reality.&lt;br /&gt;    Finally, it can be argued that it is in fact unnatural and abnormal for human's to be constantly around other humans they have no relationship with, and do not know. Secondly, it can be argued that it is thus unnatural for it to be culturally acceptable for humans to be in the same room, or in passing of one another, not to acknowledge the other's presence. This is one reason that cities are detrimental to the development and growth of humanity. Within the unnatural setting of the city, these unquestioned cultural norms tear apart the fine, organic material of human society as it was first intended. Human beings are designed to form relationships with those who share the same space as they do. Relationships are so vital to the individual because they point to the existence of a higher Reality to which both individuals are forced to acknowledge the existence of. This is because another person is really a mirror of oneself, an acknowledgment of the legitimacy of one's own feelings and moral sense of right and wrong. When person A hurts person B, the act itself is a confirmation of the person A's moral sensibilities and the reaction from person B legitimizes person A's connection to a Higher reality that both A and B share. In a relationship, which has grown over time and gained roots and has a firm permanent root in the higher Reality, we are personally responsible for the acceptance or denial and or rejection of reality from the other person.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-1316181433225453195?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/1316181433225453195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=1316181433225453195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/1316181433225453195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/1316181433225453195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2009/03/estranged-from-reality.html' title='Estranged From Reality'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-7823909845950789513</id><published>2008-11-19T13:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T13:04:37.803-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Government and Globalization Part I</title><content type='html'>People's thinking about the roles of government and economics has been narrowed and stifled. We must get out of the box that the theories of Communism, Socialism, and Democracy put us in. Looking at Pre-Enlightenment times, when revolutions did not exist, and absolute monarchies has dominated the world for centuries, there was a huge paradigm shift in the way in which people viewed themselves in light of their government and their social economic status. The changes are of course multi-faceted and too complex to narrow down to a single cause as to why people changed their thinking, but that is not the purpose of this essay. It is crucial to securing a hopeful future that people should look at government and economics from a historical standpoint, temporarily setting aside the modern men that we are, and with that, pushing aside our desires and criticisms to look for the truth through the eyes of reason.&lt;br /&gt;    Today, as free intellectual thinkers, we should, by natural right according to Descartes, continuing  to Locke, be able to think about the modern world's situation objectively and if possible, outside of the current manifestations of capitalism, democracy, socialism and communism. An alternative to capitalism BESIDES socialism is possible. An alternative to socialism BESIDES capitalism is possible. Looking at any form of economic standing requires a loss of some sort. It requires limitations. For a capitalist, limitations on what can be capitalized or marketed, sold or bought. For a socialist, what can be distributed, not everyone will have equality, there inevitably will be social injustice and inequality, unfair representation and compromise. The government not becoming a democracy, nor a tyranny, will find a wavering and sometimes unequal harmony in the middle. With capitalism penalized, and resources unavailable, a tyrannic ruler would not be able to oppress with the kind of limitless power that is possible today. With socialism criticized as a weak cry for a utopia, a democracy would not be able to thrive because the majority of citizens would have no desire to rule or make decisions, due to the consequential role their actions will take in matters of state and policy. The weight of decisions would be on the shoulders of one or a few well educated, experienced, COURAGEOUS people, that is, in the event of an aristocracy or oligarchy, decisions will be more critical, but the relationship between citizen and ruler would change for the better, because of the lack of a need for explanations. The citizens could live more peaceful, less harrowed lives, the ruler(s) could concentrate on the art of decision making and hopefully, discussions based on the knowledge and understanding they have of their citizens and land.&lt;br /&gt;    A person owning land changes things. With this type of government in place, the citizen would have the opportunity to work and own land and not feel compromised, because the ruler(s) having more of a moral sense, or ethics weighing on his conscience, would be caring more about what land is under his rule, the actual land, not considering only the capital which the land could produce. In this way, he is not separating what is from what could be, but he is looking at the development and well-being of not only the land, but of the farmer who tends the land as well. Depending on how wise or unwise this ruler might be, or how greedy or unselfish, he will have a smaller scope in which to deal with. In the event of a despot coming into power, he might require labor from the workers to serve his means, he might take away rights, and make unethical decisions, but is it any worse than what we see in the work force today? People don't know how to compare, having adopted narrow ways of looking at the world, the modern ideas of democracy and equality that have only been around for a couple hundred years. Compare, for example, the modern man working to feed his family at any job whether making a low income or high income (depending on whether the country leans toward socialism, not IF he is controlled, but HOW) He is required to pay taxes. If he is a wealthy man in a country that has high taxes, he is not making what he should, and is therefore being deprived of his due share, in the same way that a despot might take the produce of land from a farmer. If he is a poor man and makes a low income, depending on where he is, he still has no choice in his income and where it goes. If in a socialistic country, he will have his money and every other poor man's money distributed for him, for all his “necessary” expenses, but then again, he does not have much room for decision making, o r a direct say in it. If a rich man lives in a more capitalistic country, he will have all the option to expand freely, trample on others freely, and be tyrannical if he so wishes, because, he has the resources, and he can. If a poor man lives in this same capitalistic country, he, not only will most likely not be able to climb the social hierarchy to be able to amass as much income per capita as the wealthy man, but he is trampled on even more so, and becomes more and more a product of his environment, he becomes a helpless part of a system in which he cannot escape for fear of starvation or death, he is more apt to turn to immoral actions such as the capitalist on the other end, who has free range and limitless power to do immoral actions. Both breed repression and tyranny, not by one person, but by a never ending and complex system in which no single human has control.&lt;br /&gt;    With a moderate and limited economy in place, goods would not be available on such a vast, unlimited scale. With the resources and needs of each country addressed and focused on, the economics would be more stable and predictable, the knowledge of what cannot be produced, and what can be, the knowledge of what is scarce, and what is plentiful, all of these important matters would be impervious to the rest of the world, and would be considered where they matter most, on their own soil. A problem with Capitalism and Globalization, is that it takes concentration off of what one country has and places it's concentration on what it can get. It's focus is more on the other countries around it, which it has little or no influence on, and not adequate knowledge of. Even if the main distributors of products and marketing and even the world leaders have knowledge and understanding of surrounding countries, the citizens of the buying or selling countries will not have the same level of knowledge and they will not get the luxury of directly dealing in any of those transactions unless it so benefits the buyer or seller, and will not be given the power to take millions of important details into consideration, such as the effect on the environment, and every trade relation, or problem, will potentially cause shortages of resources or wasting of resources as many chains of bureaucracy mediate the produce and goods as they are exchanged from many different hands. The problem with such dealing is that no one is left responsible for the pollution, mistreatment of workers, contamination, waste, environmental destruction, not replenishing resources, etc. and if something goes wrong, the deal is not stopped, the trade agreement still goes on, the buyers and sellers making compromising decisions to any end to end up on top, to end up at the end of the day making money. No one in this situation wants to lose out on money, even if the rest of the world suffers from it, and the earth is permanently harmed.&lt;br /&gt;    It does not make sense to have a country using its resources to ship of to a second country, and the second country ships of its resources to the first country. It is a sign of greed, covetousness and non contentment to not settle for what one has, but to want, and EXPECT to get it from someone else, no matter what it takes. An example would be two families. The dad and mom of the first family see that the second family has something that they want, vise versa, so they  both come up with an agreement and begin trading. This is fine, as in, trading goods is fine. The problem is capitalism. With capitalism in the picture, need and want become interchangeable terms. Whereas before, with the interest of the county at heart; meaning, a desire to promote and keep the natural resources of that country, and to grow them, for the gain of the country, trade was not an issue. The country would not be willing to plunder itself and demolish itself for the sake of gaining a few goods from a different country. When value is placed on what one has, the desire for something else is not non existent, or even lessened, but it is subservient to the desire to keep what one has, and develop that. The capitalistic family would perhaps decide to negotiate with the other family, with the goal of making as much as possible from it, always increasing for the sake of increase, instead of for the sake of necessity. This is where want and need can become interchangeable terms. The capitalist will use whichever makes for better capital in his negotiations, with the family at home, and with the other family whose goods he would like to have. This promotes dishonesty and illogical actions to be possible, whereas before, when the main focus is on his own family, and promoting what they have for the sake of bettering themselves, not for the sake of making capital, (which means that the capitalistic family will better itself as much as it can but only to make itself appealing to its buyer, to make the sale.) Genuine interest is not found in the right place, or for the right reasons.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-7823909845950789513?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/7823909845950789513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=7823909845950789513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/7823909845950789513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/7823909845950789513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2008/11/government-and-globalization-part-i.html' title='Government and Globalization Part I'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-2305242665399066452</id><published>2008-11-19T13:02:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T13:03:10.945-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Musing on philosophy</title><content type='html'>(why philosophical thinking is so critical especially for a leader)&lt;br /&gt;Anyone who follows logic and reasoning, as well as has an understanding of moral principles, or for Plato, the unchangeable forms, will be able to make assertions that are accurate and measurable to some extent. They will be able to make assertions despite lack of knowledge on the subject, despite every possible outcome besides the desirable one, despite the rebuttles of others. This person can have certainty that what he says is valid and has weight; he doesn't need a fact book to back him up and make his story more plausible. That belief is erroneous and leads into propaganda and divisiveness. The modern man does not have anything to stand on, to take his position on, for what he stands on, is always subject to error, erosion and dissipation. Once he is afraid to take a position, he falls into irrelevancy and ruin, the product of the whim of the masses, whichever way the wind is blowing, this is where he is found.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-2305242665399066452?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/2305242665399066452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=2305242665399066452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/2305242665399066452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/2305242665399066452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2008/11/musing-on-philosophy.html' title='Musing on philosophy'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-8561915569026964080</id><published>2008-11-19T12:59:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2009-03-16T20:42:24.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Child At Breakfast Poem</title><content type='html'>A Child At Breakfast&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waking up involves a lot of wandering&lt;br /&gt;Trying to get from my bed&lt;br /&gt;to the iron vent in the living room floor&lt;br /&gt;takes a lot of work.&lt;br /&gt;My feet are freezing, and Mama's singing.&lt;br /&gt;I stand over the vent and let the hot air come&lt;br /&gt;swirling up my nightgown,&lt;br /&gt;puffing it out like a big hoop skirt.&lt;br /&gt;I crouch down, toes burning on the metal squares.&lt;br /&gt;The smell of bacon pulls me nose first into the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;Stephen's standing on the vent by the stove.&lt;br /&gt;I fight for my turn,&lt;br /&gt;while glasses are clinking, skillet pops and sizzles&lt;br /&gt;She opens the lid to the green tupperware&lt;br /&gt;where she keeps her coffee&lt;br /&gt;placing it under my nose,&lt;br /&gt;I close my eyes and breathe deeply.&lt;br /&gt;Her breakfast table is large, and welcoming&lt;br /&gt;it sends us scurrying to our seats.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-8561915569026964080?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/8561915569026964080/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=8561915569026964080' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/8561915569026964080'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/8561915569026964080'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2008/11/child-at-breakfast.html' title='A Child At Breakfast Poem'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-1346003732203955959</id><published>2008-11-19T12:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T12:59:49.069-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Art, A Natural Language</title><content type='html'>Art, A Natural Language&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     I am sitting in a spacious Gothic-style church where the walls are light stone and reaching. Tall, symmetrical columns form in rows meeting with pointed arches and a vaulted ceiling. Majestic windows of stained-glass are fogged over by the cold, winter night. In the front of the church a college choir is dressed in white and red. Men and women stand together, the richness of their voices fills and nourishes the room where we sit, suspended with awe. It's Christmas time, and the choir has begun singing Handel's Messiah. Suddenly, I feel a fever rising in my chest, as it grows throughout my body, it sends chills up and down my spine. This feeling is one I have often felt when in the presence of profound beauty. I am  compelled, and cannot take my eyes off of the choir. As all my thoughts are frozen in one instant, I know I have engaged with beauty with every ounce of my being.&lt;br /&gt;    I have often thought about the joys that awaken the senses, and fill the soul with deep, satisfying beauty. The soul needs to be fed, and thrives on the pure, weighty, and metaphysical world. This is the world that is unseen, and yet, wholly real and present. The transcendental is beckoning the soul out of its despondent slumber. Art is a natural language that acts as an intercessor between the human and the spiritual realm. It awakens us to the existence of the invisible, it reaches the depths of our essence, and speaks to our senses. It opens us up to see our lack of beauty, and our need for something beyond ourselves, beyond our present reality. It stirs us out of our spineless shells and calls us to respond.      The world is filled with art, it is present in every culture, every town, every home, every person. Even so, art seems like a distant concept, removed from the every day realities that require our time, diligence, and work. Art was at one time organically intertwined with the mundane, and ordinary parts of life. This was before the Enlightenment era, and the birth of Industrialization. The Enlightenment brought thinkers who radically changed the ethos centered in Christendom to one that was centered in human reason, and rationality. The original ethos looked at man in light of his relationship with the&lt;br /&gt; Judeo-Christian God, while the latter looked at man in light of his abilities to advance technologies and provide answers to the sufferings of humanity. While the world was turning its focus away from God and eternity to science and rationality, art was extracted from its natural position in the world to be reconfigured to parallel the new ethos. Its God given identity and purpose were replaced with more mechanical and rational ones. Once, long ago, art was the medium in which people told their stories. They weaved baskets with designs, made pottery with symbols of their beliefs, used beads in clothes making, and left the world wondering with cave drawings. Other arts such as clock making, leather making, and woodworking, were skilled trades passed down and preserved through hundreds of generations. Art once covered floors, walls and ceilings, naturally flowing out of people's lives. Today art is compartmentalized and deified, encased in glass far away from human reach. Suddenly museums, galleries, and encyclopedias are housing works of art and classifying them. What happened to art being in the dirt of real life? Why the separation, and what has this separation done to humans? How has it changed the way we think about art? How has it changed the way we look at art? These are a few questions that every human being needs to ponder, regardless of their familiarity with the practicing art world. If the process of creating art is just as important as viewing art, why is the viewer considered in a separate class from the artist? Aren't they supposed to respond the same?  Shouldn't every human be able to appreciate and understand art without going through art education? Would it make sense for God to create something for our benefit, and not give us the necessary means to enjoy it?  Certainly not. God has created every person with the equipment to be able to converse with the world we are a part of. &lt;br /&gt;    Art in its essential nature is a creative force given by God for the benefit of mankind. The power of creation is one of God's great attributes, perhaps the one humans are most familiar with. The purposes of art are manifold, spilling into every arena of human existence. Art can act as a mirror, or a magnifying glass to examine the inner life of men and connect it with the tangible, physical, and exterior life. Art has the ability to discover or reveal truth. It acts as an intercessor between the physical and the spiritual.     Within himself, man has two opposing natures constantly at war with each other. One is the original nature that the Creator has called good, and this nature has been made branded in His image. The opposing nature comes as a result from the Creator severing man from Himself, when man is exposed to evil. The nature of God, the Creator of man, is such that it cannot change, is solely good, and cannot dwell with evil. Thus man is severed from God, and forfeits his complete nature as he becomes divided into two clashing natures. Man is now a broken, disfigured image of God. When man was dwelling with God, he carried within himself an innate sense to perceive beauty and good, but once man fell, his innate sensibility to beauty and goodness was forever impaired. Therefore, this impairment is the reason why humans have trouble understanding art and the world around us.&lt;br /&gt;     Art, being a human manifestation, grows out of the fallen man, and embodies his double nature. Art that manifests an evil nature will use distortion, lies, unbelief, and anything which taints and corrupts good. Art that manifests goodness will be that which exposes evil as it reveals truth,faith, and purity in pointing directly to God. On what principles is art critiqued? Should these principles be based on rational conceptions of good and bad? in relation to the design and purpose of art) On the other hand, is there a form of critique that comes from a purely irrational and deeply immediate response? Should both these principles be based on beliefs concerning the design and purpose of art? If the former is true, than how does one explain art that expresses itself most significantly on an emotional or irrational level? A person could make accurate observations about a piece based on their experience with previous art pieces, and with a knowledge of technique and style, but it appears as if even so, the person is only parroting what has historically been observed, accepted, and recorded. They may be speaking some truth, but they are not exercising their innate ability to critique art with their full person-hood. If the latter is true, and assuming the person critiquing the art does not have an educated, or formal grounding in the critique of art in which to rely upon, they will have to use their 'naked' intellect to examine a work of art. On the other hand, art which is looked at with a 'naked' intellect needs the context of the culture to make sense out of the work. For example, one could examine Roualt's painting entitled “Who Does Not Paint Himself A Face” which is a painting of a clown with a dejected expression on his face. If the artist had left no title, the painting would have lost it's meaning. To summarize, things like language and cultural context are extremely important for a person critiquing art to understand the work.&lt;br /&gt;    A book called State of The Arts speaks of the immediate, and intuitive recognition of beauty a person can have. “When we see something beautiful, our intellects experience a flash of satisfaction and joy. Classical aesthetics understands our perception of beauty on earth as a glimpse of that total and direct apprehension of the essence of things that the angels and saints in Heaven always experience.” “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face; now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” (1 Corinthians 13:12 KJV).&lt;br /&gt;     Art as a natural language, communicates on many levels, the physical and the spiritual. One is the human mind, the other, the human psyche. Every human has a strikingly imperative need to communicate through this natural language. Every human needs to be moved physically, spiritually, mentally, and emotionally by heavenly beauty that is seen through this natural languages that God created. The interior life of a man needs to be fed, cultivated and grown. Most importantly, this life must be protected. Proverbs 4:23 says “Above all else, guard your heart for it is the wellspring of life.” This passage of Scripture applies to the interior lives of men, the lives we seldom show, and seldom ever understand. For Christians, the inner life is eternal, and is of the utmost importance. This is evident in the work of the great European artist, Rembrandt. His work testifies to the existence of the Christian God. As opposed to Pablo Picasso whose work is a testimony to the humanism of the 20th century. The majority of the modern world places importance on a person's outer life, the physical or emotional.  This has been most evident in the lack of substance found in some secular art. The question is not whether secular art is or isn't art, or even whether it's good or bad. The important question one must ask is whether the artist, and the person viewing art has developed their inner sensibility to be able to recognize things like beauty, goodness, ugliness, and evil. One can only correctly judge art on these intrinsic principles. One of the wonderful results of making and viewing art is that it is a humans intimate companion, a mirror that shows their journey on earth. It is a reflection of everything that is human, the full human experience, the inner life, and the outward journey. It is a window into the secret places of the psyche. Deep emotion can be brought out of it's uncreated form into the light to be looked at objectively. The Creator of the Universe longs to bring people close to His heart. He speaks to people through the natural language He has put into place, between humans and art. Through art people can learn to perceive the truths that God wants us to see about ourselves, and the invisible world were made for. We can begin to see what parts of our nature are broken, and what parts He is replacing with Himself. In the end, perhaps every human who God is working in will see themselves in their truest form, finely crafted clay in a Potter's steady hand.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-1346003732203955959?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/1346003732203955959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=1346003732203955959' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/1346003732203955959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/1346003732203955959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2008/11/art-natural-language.html' title='Art, A Natural Language'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-7812979524416266786</id><published>2008-11-19T12:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T12:59:13.272-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mender</title><content type='html'>Mender&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;        If I must mend broken bones,&lt;br /&gt;        Handling marrow with melting light;&lt;br /&gt;        Quiet fingers searching for something steady,&lt;br /&gt;        I will need my pulse to be as fixed as the flame&lt;br /&gt;                        mediating between me and the matter.&lt;br /&gt;        My eye will be a ledge, a ruler to keep an even line&lt;br /&gt;                        My breath, with each new rhythm sliding from my lips&lt;br /&gt;         will be a keeper of  time, marrying the work of my hands&lt;br /&gt;                        with the lucid, free flowing thoughts in my mind   &lt;br /&gt;        Inhale when I pull, stretch, or turn&lt;br /&gt;                        Exhale when I rest, giving warmth to the bruising room&lt;br /&gt;                        Opening up the joints to give space back to a cool darkness&lt;br /&gt;                        which has no reason to uphold its place.&lt;br /&gt;                        Fiercely I am cradling a new body,&lt;br /&gt;        Taking form in my arms. Steadfast, I am a sliver of growing dawn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;            Emily Clark&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-7812979524416266786?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/7812979524416266786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=7812979524416266786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/7812979524416266786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/7812979524416266786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2008/11/mender.html' title='Mender'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-7839403246377940882</id><published>2008-11-19T12:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T12:57:17.555-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Meaning of Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;       Many other things may appear of importance, but this is the most important and crucial truth about life. It is what many people spend their entire lives missing, because they are unaware of it's importance to them and their lives on earth and in eternity. Reality is the highest form a human can possibly reach, reality is Heaven. Heaven, is reality. If one could imagine the world as a scale between two extremes, constantly tilting and sliding back and forth, and imagine themselves the weight on this scale, then perhaps they could understand what it is that is the ultimate purpose of their life. To be in reality is to be complete as a human. A humans' best moments happen when they are in the moment, no matter what moment it may be, but they are fully immersed and all present in that one, real, present moment. As children, humans seem to have more of these moments, well, at least they recognize their importance more, because they profoundly miss these moments, and long for them fervently. As an adult with more and more things going on in a humans' life, the moments pass by much quicker, allowing the human to become used to the moments, and quickly overlook them. As they come streaming in, it is easy for the human who is unaware of the absolute necessity and importance of being in and fully present in these moments. A child who has been fully enjoying himself at the beach will be extremely sad when the day comes that he must leave. His memory will be best because he, even as an adult, will be able to clearly recall the minutest detail about that one trip at the beach. As an adult, being unhappy and unfulfilled only come when the human is on one of the two extremes of the weighing scale. They have either slid towards the past or the future and are not in the present. There are degrees of this of course, but the further they slide in either direction, the more hopeless life will seem. This is where the feeling of numbness comes from. This is where the feeling of anxiety comes from. This is where the feeling of loss comes from, remaining in one of these two extremes. To actually be in reality is the highest achievement of life. This is why suffering and pain can be good things. It is not that the things in themselves are good, but that the extremes of suffering and pain actually have the effect of balancing the human, pulling them back into reality. Some people struggle with this problem more than others. Those who are daydreamers, thinkers, and more analytical people find it easier to get “stuck” in a false reality, one that lives in their minds.  To be able to find reality, one must stop escaping. Drugs are a method of escapism, to run away from reality. They “soften the blow” C.S. Lewis once wrote that Hell is the place where the ground is soft, because it is the “ultimate escape from reality”. People who are angry at God can easily mistake the problems in their lives as being due to God, when in truth, God is just pulling them back, pulling them back into the present moment, no matter how difficult it is. God created change to keep people suspended in reality as much as possible. The seasons change to remind humans that they do not live on a perpetual, never-ending carousel ride, but rather that every moment counts and makes it's print in the full measure of eternity. Time was created to help people remain in reality, if there were no time, people might forget that each moment is different than the one before. Why is it that people need to know that each moment is unique? It is because reality can only be reached through time. Eternity cannot be reached within a person, without “traveling through time”. Eternity is present in reality. Eternity is the present, this one particular moment. But it must be gained in a way, because it is easy to lose. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-7839403246377940882?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/7839403246377940882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=7839403246377940882' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/7839403246377940882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/7839403246377940882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2008/11/meaning-of-life.html' title='The Meaning of Life'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-7683527861465829364</id><published>2008-11-19T12:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T12:55:38.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Essay On Nietzsche</title><content type='html'>Essay On Nietzsche: The Missing Piece&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;    Nietzsche understood what it meant to be alive. He had studied the Greeks and seen how passionately they lived, and was especially moved by their love for art and music. He was also this way, moved by music and greatly influenced by Wagner. He believed that humans needed to fulfill their potentials and live passionate, expressive lives, being aware of their power and potential. The highest form of man he could see; he defines as the Superman or Uberminch. It is one who is deeply self aware and realizes his power. He is not ignorant of himself but understands how powerful he is. Nietzsche was upset and angry because he saw Europeans living life out of an empty shell they called morality. He knew their version of morality wasn't real, it was empty and this is why he was angry. He saw the superman as not being afraid of his power. This is why Nietzsche had such a hard time with Jesus; because Jesus was a superman in the respect that He was all powerful. But Jesus became totally helpless and weak, which was intolerable to Nietzsche because it went against his whole understanding of humanity and what it meant to be alive and fully human. He didn't understand the paradox that Jesus embodied in his very weakness.&lt;br /&gt;    To elaborate upon the idea of the Superman one must look at his characteristics. He has what Nietzsche calls the Will to Power. What does this look like? My definition of will to power is Pride. Well, that is half of it. I think Nietzsche was aware of the two parts of the will because he refers to one as the slave and the other as the master. I don't think he understood that they both serve an imperative purpose and need each other as a balance. What is one without the other? Surely pure power without weakness to balance it would destroy itself. And weakness is the same. Part of the human will is the Will to Power. This is the pride of man. What is pride? Isn't it self-realized power, or self -actualization? So this is what the superman has, what sets him apart is that he has this power and isn't afraid to use it. The important and crucial point that Nietzsche missed; is that Jesus while having the “will to power”, was here to do something completely different. He was fully aware that He had his power, in this respect He was a Superman. The point Nietzsche missed is that He also had another will; a Will to Weakness so to speak. He was self-aware of His power to fall or to be destroyed by His power. This is why Jesus throughout the Bible never stopped being in complete submission to His Father, because His power had the potential to destroy Him. Jesus was self aware of His power and also aware of what that power could do to Him. He had a relationship with the Trinity which is what human beings don't have. Human beings can have a Will to Power but it means nothing if a human only has self-actualized power that isn't in relation to anyone else or have checks and balances. This is why Jesus was the ultimate paradox of the powerful man because He gave up His power for weakness. This is also why He had perfect power, because He had the trinity and was in submission to them. So His power was checked by others. Through Jesus people who have power can also be perfected; not by his strength but by His weakness.&lt;br /&gt;    To go into further detail let's look at the relationship between God and Satan, and what made Satan “fall”.  Satan was extremely close to God; He was in charge of all the music in Heaven. Ezekiel 28:13 leads us to believe this might be possible. Satan might has also been a musician himself. He had the power to create which on a hierarchy of power is the highest and closest to the essence of God. Satan was the most powerful angel. Satan fell because of his pride; which I have explained to mean self-realized power or self-awareness. He fell because of this and because he wouldn't accept his need for accountability to someone else, namely God. He wouldn't accept weakness. This is why there is something really powerful about musicians, they have whatever Satan had, the power to create. What is it about music as opposed to other arts that makes it the highest art of all? The closest one to God? What is it about the nature of sound? Of breath? Music speaks in volumes of life, creation, development, and form. There is something about music, the nature of music that is deeply personal perhaps because it comes from the person's breath and something about breath has to do with life; God; creation. “God spoke the world into existence”.  People need to realize their need for help, which is the need for outside assistance, reliance on others. This is the nature of all humanity, and the nature of God as well. People become literally “helpless” or beyond help when they no longer have the accountability from others. Questions I have. Was Socrates resigned to his humanity? Or merely aware of it? Did he have hope for humanity? Did Nietzsche respect Socrates? Or agree with him at all? If so, on what points?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-7683527861465829364?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/7683527861465829364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=7683527861465829364' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/7683527861465829364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/7683527861465829364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2008/11/essay-on-nietzsche.html' title='Essay On Nietzsche'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-2894223784331308769</id><published>2008-11-19T12:52:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-19T12:52:45.558-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lucid Dreams</title><content type='html'>Lucid Dreams&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wheels of golden time&lt;br /&gt;Winding round the screen&lt;br /&gt;A mind beaming radiant design,&lt;br /&gt;splashing color with the eyes&lt;br /&gt;Turning and pivoting on&lt;br /&gt;memories of golden moons.&lt;br /&gt;White folds of skin&lt;br /&gt;filling seams, begins again.&lt;br /&gt;braided hair, satin strands&lt;br /&gt;twisted melody, musing hands.&lt;br /&gt;New curls loosened, left untied&lt;br /&gt;dangle the chords around the head.&lt;br /&gt;A crest, a halo,&lt;br /&gt;curve to cover living shadows.&lt;br /&gt;Hushed Immortal, sleeping star&lt;br /&gt;yields and melds the night&lt;br /&gt;Arms like strings entwined&lt;br /&gt;second skin seeps lemon light.&lt;br /&gt;Honey drips from fingertips and noses&lt;br /&gt;Toes vanish in breathing sand&lt;br /&gt;Step into a cloud bank from a crag&lt;br /&gt;Rocking in tangy dreams&lt;br /&gt;Clumsy tumbling world, a paperweight.&lt;br /&gt;Spin a spool, a reeling note&lt;br /&gt;Spending crowns&lt;br /&gt;golden shards, feathered bed&lt;br /&gt;plummeting&lt;br /&gt;drawing in crayon&lt;br /&gt;Light a suspended thread&lt;br /&gt;Transparent heart,&lt;br /&gt;liquid spills,&lt;br /&gt;reflecting love draw near.&lt;br /&gt;Drinking up golden,&lt;br /&gt;pure pools disappear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; --Emily Robyn Clark&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-2894223784331308769?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/2894223784331308769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=2894223784331308769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/2894223784331308769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/2894223784331308769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2008/11/lucid-dreams.html' title='Lucid Dreams'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8356051671109162962.post-1630876949810300979</id><published>2008-10-06T21:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T21:18:22.032-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Transformation Is Personal Elevation</title><content type='html'>Hello Comrades, Friends, Companions, and Fellow Scholars&lt;br /&gt;This is the time for us. There is no past we are responsible for shaping,&lt;br /&gt;only the grand and illuminated present, which has been given to each person&lt;br /&gt;at Virginia Commonwealth University to have. It is our generation who have the honor of bringing&lt;br /&gt;new dreams, desires, and our own ideas to the forefront of every person's minds from this point on&lt;br /&gt;until forever. We have the opportunity to envision what we believe could be a better world, a better school, and a better individual for each one of us. I am here to embolden each person at VCU to take the reigns of their lives in their hands and do something incredible for the world, for ourselves, and for our future generations.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8356051671109162962-1630876949810300979?l=myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/feeds/1630876949810300979/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8356051671109162962&amp;postID=1630876949810300979' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/1630876949810300979'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8356051671109162962/posts/default/1630876949810300979'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://myphilosophersstone.blogspot.com/2008/10/transformation-is-personal-elevation.html' title='Transformation Is Personal Elevation'/><author><name>Emily Robyn</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06228107945164622716</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
