Archive for the ‘Exisitentialism’ Category
Cactus Blossom: Kind of Holiness or Wonderfulness in Nature (April 10, 2022) — Image by kenne
“Above all, don’t lie to yourself.
The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie
comes to a point that he cannot distinguish the truth within him,
or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others.
And having no respect he ceases to love.”
— Fyodor Mikhailevich Dostoevsky
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Barn Owl Up Close — Image by kenne
Nature is not to be
put in order,
nature is order.
We must put
ourselves
in accord
with this order.
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Kenne Squared — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“All that is transitory is but a metaphor.”
― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Fenceline — To walk the line is to understand both sides of the fence. — kenne
“The most thought-provoking thing in our thought-provoking time
is that we are still not thinking.”
— Martin Heidegger
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Wildflowers on Mt. Lemmon, Santa Catalina Mountains — Images by kenne
What is the late November doing
With the disturbance of the spring
And creatures of the summer heat,
And snowdrops writhing under feet
And hollyhocks that aim too high
Red into grey and tumble down
Late roses filled with early snow?
Thunder rolled by the rolling stars
Simulates triumphal cars
Deployed in constellated wars
Scorpion fights against the sun
Until the Sun and Moon go down
Comets weep and Leonids fly
Hunt the heavens and the plains
Whirled in a vortex that shall bring
The world to that destructive fire
Which burns before the ice-cap reigns
— from Four Quartets by T. S. Eliot
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“Global Warming” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
“Maybe it’s not about a happy ending.
Maybe it’s about the story.”
— Albert Camus
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Sunrise On Wildhorse Trail (Saguaro National Park – East) — Image by kenne
“Knowledge of that which concerns us infinitely
is possible only in an attitude of infinite concern.”
― Paul Tillich
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nearlywildcamping.org
If you are not, then you are dead!
— kenne
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Thomas R. Turner (May 23, 1942–November 13, 2014) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
This posting is the sixth, and last, I will be sharing from a long poem written by Tom
sometime around 1980 after his wife left him. Today is the fifth anniversary of his death.
24 to Harwood and Cropsy: No Road Back Home
(Taken from a Brooklyn Bus Route and the Title of a Blues Album.)
The nuances between us were scattered with the
January snows of Peter's arrival.
Ambiguities, second starts and brokendreams were too
Tangled up in Blue to
Cut to the exact place on the page where our rhythm had
Broken.
I'm not that young any more.
"Get off your stagnant ass and do something."
The scenario years later would speak.
The Pacific Northwest and a three quarter profile statement
Echoing out Denny's window
Why I never got a job during all those summers.
Only the facts she put to me.
I couldn't keep in step with the definitions you
Dreamed.
We speculated endlessly in different directions
Whether our togethrness might might imaginable be framed
From inside so that the usual connection between lover
And lover and loved and loved would be interchangeable but
Paradoxically unchanging.
(For my benefit, I suppose)
Was the fiction of my eroticism so damn necessary?
Somewhere I glimpsed you
Coming at me; balancing cryptic hats . . .
Laughing comic confusion.
Now I never see you anymore.
The summers are much colder tha used to be
In that other time, when you and I were young.
I miss the human truth of your smile;
The half-hearted gaze of your voice and all the things
That you'll always be to me.
Only thee is no comic relief
Just a
Curious translation of cracked nostalgia.
But lets
Skip the arguments.
I already know how the story ends:
A-not-so-crytic-message:
Don't be naive
You could only gaze into the distance at my life.
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Thomas R. Turner (May 23, 1942–November 13, 2014) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
This posting is the fourth of several I will be sharing from a long poem written by Tom
sometime around 1980 after his wife left him. Today is the fifth anniversary of his death.
24 to Harwood and Cropsy: No Road Back Home
(Taken from a Brooklyn Bus Route and the Title of a Blues Album.)
Closely watched trains came and went without me without us
I somehow missed you
Eyes have a way.
After love with my caliban sweat and noises
A vacant resentment would knife
From glares askance
First seen in the pain of Vanessa-labor.
And this is what happens when you love someone?
Progeny and sunburn haired sensualness
Prefaced Rare-Earth and a student nurse.
The ideology of lesbos intimacy had
Clandestinely raised its latent head.
But it doesn't matter anymore.
(You were the poet in my heart)
91st street was the end
Wasn't it?
Curious how our windows are always steamed-up
On Autumnal days.
(Was ANYTHING central?)
The "is-this-all-there-is" syndrome sums up the
Period: Existentialist discontent
With a walk-up duplex decor.
A matter-of-fact sexuality
Presaged a psychic-incarnation I couldn't see.
Lisa brought home a metamorphosis I didn't
Realize.
They cut your "tubes" after she came and that was that.
Funny how I thought even then that is was
All a matter of hormonal imbalance. Shit!
And what about you?
Paradoxes betray the limits of logic
Not of the reality we shared.
Your "passion" was stillborn though so damn necessary.
A dissolution of absence into substance sucked
Screaming through a Rimbaud-Day-On-Fire.
I could't laugh enough for the
Frivolity she needed but detested.
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Sunset January 22, 2019 — Image by kenne
We can speak without voice to the trees and
the clouds and the waves of the sea.
Without words, they respond through the rustling of leaves and
the moving of clouds and the murmuring of the sea.
— Paul Tillich
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Cactus Wren — Photo-Artistry by kenne
People demand freedom of speech
as a compensation
for the freedom of thought
which they seldom use.
— Soren Kierkegaard
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Follow the Narrow Trail (The Tucson Mountains) — Image by kenne
No Name Trails
My trails don’t always have a name.
They are the ones on which I roam
Gathering new views to capture
Sharing with others who read books
And write poems on the earth and sky.
— kenne
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Mt. Lemmon Trail — Image by kenne
Each day I try to develop myself beyond the conventional level of existence. I transcend the light of being through threads of space and time allowing me to see truth in different reflections. Most people adopt on view for the sake of security. I prefer to use all views than to maintain artificial boundaries to have one view. By utilizing all views, I can know the truth in much the same way I come to know a butterfly, a wildflower. To do otherwise is to limit oneself to what is always true.
As I shift a point of view, I have the freedom to transcend any actuality which I may encounter. By doing so, I’m able to accept the freedom and responsibility of being human and become more authentic in my expression, therefore better able to actualize my existence. By being flexible in my point of view, I’m better able to include as much of reality as possible.
— kenne
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Image by kenne
home is where I am
home is not where I am
always in between
I am an island of consciousness
I have a cosmic consciousness
always in between
life is now
death is now
always in between
existence is being
existence is becoming
always in between
I am free
I am in prison
always in between
everything is implicit
everything is explicit
always in between
nature is an artifact
nature is art
always in between
nature must be trusted
nature must be mastered
always in between
humans are good
humans are bad
always in between
a sense of law
a sense of equity
always in between
there is a natural order
there is no order in nature
always in between
life has purpose
life is purposeless
always in between
— kenne
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Becoming is Superior to Being 