Is there a reality that is fundamental to human beings?

“Yesterday’s truth is today’s deception and yesterday’s false inference may be tomorrow’s revelation.” (C.G.Jung)

Oscillating between sense and nonsense, conscious is dancing with subconscious, all realities vibrating towards non linear freedom from opposites.

What is real and what is a bias we have to step out of?


Hlina.
Do hliny sa zaboriť. Vrážať drsné prsty do hrudiek studenej teplej hliny.
Cítiť.
Držať.
Hmatať.
Chmátať.
Vnoriť sa, zaboriť sa.
Votrieť si hlinu do uší.
Zaraziť prsty do zeme, priložiť líce do lesa.

Voda z potoka.
Očistné, ochranné schopnosti. Narábať s hlinou ako s kúskom domova. Čeliť nepríčetnosti. Čítať budúcnosť. V hline sa pariť. V hline sa páriť.

Našuchorené ihličie.
Dnes som poliala kvety slanou vodou.
Strčiť nohy do horúcej vody s maslom.
Roztekajúci sa med.
Mach prerastajúci telom ako slanina.
Ako sa do hory volá, taký potok z nej vyteká.

Korene stromov obmotané okolo krku.
Ešte som sa nedusila. Mäso vytrhané z plúc zeme. Hlina rozsypaná po chodbe. Ležíme spolu v daždi prázdnoty?

Ako je to keď veríš?
Mohli by sme spolu vzkriesiť mŕtve duše myšlienok?
Koľko stojí duša a komu sa predáva?
Je duša zelená alebo tmavomodrá?
Čakám na zázraky.
Čo keď myšlienka uzdravuje?
Pevné ruky nádeje hlboko zaborené v pohyblivom piesku.
Istota tiež musí platiť dane.
Smútiť sa nemá nahlas.
Na hlase spoznáš smútok.

V hmle sa neobzeraj za seba.
V hmle sa obzri za seba tri krát.
V noci sa pozeraj do hmly.
V noci sa pozeraj do troch očí.
Uvidíš pravdu.

Kričiace tiene.
Stúpajúce z vody ako smädná para. Vyhýbajú sa hmle. Sedia ti na ramenách ako vlažná rosa v sobotu ráno.
Kričia potichu.
Aby si ich počul.

Vrkoče.
Vrkoče z jašteríc.
Zapletené hlboko do jaskyne.
Vytekajúca slaná voda.
Už si dnes umyla nohy Ježišovi?

Držať niekoho kožu.
Chytať sa pórov rázovitej tváre.
Sedieť pevne na zemi a chytať sa.

Kto vyrastá zo zeme, ten do nej vplynie.
Dážďovky
Už ich moc nevídam. Pamätáš sa na ten smrad rozkladajúceho sa mäsa po daždi?
Taká sladká vôňa zomierajúcich dážďoviek.
To už nebýva.

Keď je hustá hmla, niekto umrie.
Mor.
Kliatba, ktorá nás prenasleduje. Hlboko v kostiach, v horách, v korunách stromov.
Vôňa smrti sedí na korunách stromov ako posvätná sova.
Sype sa zo skál ako prach mŕtvych tiel. Vsakuje sa do zeme. Do vody čistiacej našu budúcnosť. Jagavé bezvetrie. Beztvará pokrývka života. Sadá na poli ako bezvetrie na hrudky srsti.

Nádej.
Dúfajúc, že čary fungujú, kto sa okúpe v potoku pri splne a trikrát sa pokropí mesačnou vodou, do roka a do dňa sa stane svojou budúcnosťou.

Zrodená z vody mesačnej, panna nečistá, dúfa, že ju zachráni povera.
Piť krv.
Krv.
Namočená nádej.
Sila.
Energia viery.
Kto tvojukrv vypije, poblázni sa.

Nohy zviazané reťazami.
Tečúci vosk
pomaly formuje tvoju budúcnosť.
Šeptáš pravdu z odrazu plameňa.
Čo si praješ?
Koľko nám ešte zostáva času?

Dotýkaš sa slov.
V jemnom prameni života.
Kedy to skončí?
Syr škrýpajúci medzi zubami.
Vždy sa nájde niečo čomu chceme veriť.
Pod každým stromom sa skrýva zázrak.

Magické.
Každý má nárok na magické.
Zázrak zapečený do kúska nádeje.

Keď sa v noci prvomájovej okúpeš v krvi mesačnej, do roka sa vydáš s do roka zomrieš.

Trikrát sa pomodli, povoľ a prežehnaj.
f any God should say,
"I will restore
The world her yesterday
Whole as before
My Judgment blasted it"--who would not lift
Heart, eye, and hand in passion o'er the gift?

If any God should will
To wipe from mind
The memory of this ill
Which is Mankind
In soul and substance now--who would not bless
Even to tears His loving-tenderness?

If any God should give
Us leave to fly
These present deaths we live,
And safely die
In those lost lives we lived ere we were born--
What man but would not laugh the excuse to scorn?

For we are what we are--
So broke to blood
And the strict works of war--
So long subdued
To sacrifice, that threadbare Death commands
Hardly observance at our busier hands.

Yet we were what we were,
And, fashioned so,
It pleases us to stare
At the far show
Of unbelievable years and shapes that flit,
In our own likeness, on the edge of it.
/Rudyard Kipling/
Why life persists at the edge of chaos?
I feel like staying home. Forever. Oh wait, Ihate being home forever. It is happening and I can not escape. It is ok, because you can do yoga in your room. Despair. Mindfulness and despair. Ocilating between words, left and right. Listening to the sounds of solitude. Am I writer or am I rubish not worth of your time? 

A pre-apocalyptic fairy tale on the unsustainable direction of our values. 

HOW IS THAT FOR YOU NOT TO BELIEVE INTO ANYTHING?

Bias loop is not just a poem about searching the true Self. Looking into the eyes of uncomfortable truth via the light of darkness and stepping out of the comfort zone of inherited or learned bias loops. It is an appeal on the major blindness of all of us. The stop word.
We are lucky to be here, to face it - we are lucky to be the ones who can face the monsters - stop running from them - turn around and say STOP. We are lucky to create a new order and new environments - we are lucky to program our realities and set the parameters of the sound we want to hear.

IT IS ELASTIC

IT IS THE SIMULATION and it is good. Because we can change it. Regardless of the level of our focus, we can program our own personal simulations and we can change the public spaces we live in. We are the person chasing us in our dreams, we are those monsters haunting causing our insomnias and sleep paralysis. Let’s stop. Breath deeply and talk to them.
We will never know what we are suppressing, avoiding or do not want to look at unless we stop and deal with it.

YOU HAVE TO DIE

What will happen once we want to escape - glitch and distort our “Self” as a recorded program? The sound of organic cello strings, voices, noises from the streets, talks, animals, wind and nature are being transformed into a different level - new realities - malformed - biases - skewed and looped.

Self is a projection. Same as the XYZ scales we live in. Is it who we really are or who we really want to be? Destruction of our Selves, society and nature created a pattern. Constantly dying and being recreated again and again in the loop. How many times we have to die to realize we have never lived? We are going to be lost, running from our own awareness till we stop, turn around and look outside. When we decide to let go our ego - when we let our Self die, only then we are able to reconnect.
The other day I have met a man reading palms and offering a piece of very reasonable advice > to become a farmer of our bodies - farm your health - farm your conversations - actions - view yourself as a farmer - farm your breath - change the context - cultivate - farm you!
WHEN NOTHING IS CERTAIN ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE

Are our realities a simple simulation of our Self as well as the simulation of the “safe space” within our circle? The circle of Pentacle 15.3 speakers is a metaphor - simulated spatial cognition - sound movement and distance is not “real”. The distance and position of the sound emitters are programmed, creating a virtual environment. How far is the reality? How far are our Selves?

SEE THE DARKNESS THROUGH THE LIGHT

What has left to us living in the world without security, utopia, ignorance and uncertainty? We live in cold war times of volatility, unable to grasp anything but bias. We are living in the time of personal micro confusion and a huge macro sociopolitical identity crisis.

HOW IS THAT FOR YOU NOT TO BELIEVE INTO ANYTHING?

Bias loop is not just a poem about searching the true Self. Looking into the eyes of uncomfortable truth via the light of darkness and stepping out of the comfort zone of inherited or learned bias loops. It is an appeal on the major blindness of all of us. The stop word.
We are lucky to be here, to face it - we are lucky to be the ones who can face the monsters - stop running from them - turn around and say STOP. We are lucky to create a new order and new environments - we are lucky to program our realities and set the parameters of the sound we want to hear.

IT IS ELASTIC

IT IS THE SIMULATION and it is good. Because we can change it. Regardless of the level of our focus, we can program our own personal simulations and we can change the public spaces we live in. We are the person chasing us in our dreams, we are those monsters haunting causing our insomnias and sleep paralysis. Let’s stop. Breath deeply and talk to them.
We will never know what we are suppressing, avoiding or do not want to look at unless we stop and deal with it.

My monsters are ugly and I usually do not like ugly and uncomfortable things in my life. But it is part of it and it is a very valuable experience to be a friend with your rude, but clear speaking friends. Truth hurts and stinks. So we often try to close it deeply in the cellar. Chain it and never feed it so it starves. Deep down in our personal cellars - it does not die. It is getting stronger, living out of anger, sadness or any other strong energy we give to it anyway. Once we go down to take out some old ski equipment - our angry friend jumps on us and goes crazy in the most unexpected time (when we actually plan a ski trip or just a cook a diner).

Stepping out of our comfort zones, finding keys from the dark cellars full of monsters and inviting them for a cup of tea instead of running from them is the moment of stopping our biases. Having a personal monster as a friend is a great gift. It is a power - it is wisdom making us true and balanced. Reconnected.

YOU HAVE TO DIE

What will happen once we want to escape - glitch and distort our “Self” as a recorded program? The sound of organic cello strings, voices, noises from the streets, talks, animals, wind and nature are being transformed into a different level - new realities - malformed - biases - skewed and looped.

Self is a projection. Same as the XYZ scales we live in. Is it who we really are or who we really want to be? Destruction of our Selves, society and nature created a pattern. Constantly dying and being recreated again and again in the loop. How many time we have to die to realize we have never lived? We are going to be lost, running from our own awareness till we stop, turn around and look outside. When we decide to let go our ego - when we let our Self die, only then we are able to reconnect.

RECONNECT

Disconnect self and reconnect to oneness to the infinite - get out of the bias loop and connect to every other living thing - expand and reconnect with yourself. We can only appreciate life via death. Darkness via light and calm via uncertainty.

Bias Loop is the poem for the funeral of Self
It hurts and stinks, whatever
it is.
What will happen once we want to escape - glitch and distort our “Self” as a recorded program? The sound of organic cello strings, voices, noises from the streets, talks, animals, wind and nature are being transformed into a different level - new realities - malformed - biases - skewed and looped.

Self is a projection. Same as the XYZ scales we live in. Is it who we really are or who we really want to be? Destruction of our Selves, society and nature created a pattern. Constantly dying and being recreated again and again in the loop. How many times we have to die to realize we have never lived? We are going to be lost, running from our own awareness till we stop, turn around and look outside. When we decide to let go our ego - when we let our Self die, only then we are able to reconnect.


BLACK ACID is the darkness inside us. It is the acid eating us from the inside when we are not watching. It is you. Your fear you are running from. Your pain you chained deep down inside. It is the poison you cannot resist. It is you. It is me.