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Acacias
Strolling many years ago

Down a street taken over by acacias in bloom

I found out from a friend who knows everything

That you had just gotten married.

I told him that I really

Had nothing to do with it.

I never loved you

— You know that better than I do —

Yet each time the acacias bloom

— Can you believe it? —

I get the very same feeling I had

When they hit me point-blank

With the heartbreaking news

That you had married someone else.
— translated by David Unger

I Take Back Everything I’ve Said
Before I go

I’m supposed to get a last wish:

Generous reader

burn this book

It’s not at all what I wanted to say

Though it was written in blood

It’s not what I wanted to say.

No lot could be sadder than mine

I was defeated by my own shadow:

My words took vengeance on me.

Forgive me, reader, good reader

If I cannot leave you

With a warm embrace, I leave you

With a forced and sad smile.

Maybe that’s all I am

But listen to my last word:

I take back everything I’ve said.

With the greatest bitterness in the world

I take back everything I’ve said.
— translated by Miller Williams

Nicanor Parra, who was a professor of theoretical physics at the University of Chile in Santiago, is one of Latin America’s most notable and innovative poets. Describing himself as an “antipoet,” he writes in a wry, colloquial, and accessible mode that eschews the rhetorical inflation and florid gestures associated in the popular mind with verse. His sister Violeta was one of Chile’s most renowned folk singers. Born in 1914, Parra is now in his mid-90s. These poems are from Antipoems: New and Selected, edited by David Unger and published by New Directions. “Acacias” copyright © 1973 by David Unger, and “I Take Back Everything I’ve Said” copyright © 1972 by Nicanor Parra and Miller Williams. The poems are reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp.

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David Dodd April 9, 2010 @ 11:34 a.m.

From Parra's webpage:

Durante medio siglo La poesía fue El paraíso del tonto solemne. Hasta que vine yo Y me instalé con mi montaña rusa. Suban, si les parece. Claro que yo no respondo si bajan Echando sangre por boca y narices.

Translated (best I can):

For half a century Poetry was The solemn fool's paradise. Until I came And I moved in with my roller coaster. Get in, if you like. Of course I won't respond if you depart Bleeding from mouth and nose.

Parra was an excellent choice, hope for more from South and Central America.

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nan shartel April 19, 2010 @ 11:24 p.m.

thx Refried for a great comment...kudos!!

let's hope they print some of Pablo Neruda's poems too

SUCH AS......

And because love battles

not only in its burning agricultures

but also in the mouth of men and women,

I will finish off by taking the path away

to those who between my chest and your fragrance

want to interpose their obscure plant.

About me, nothing worse

they will tell you, my love,

than what I told you.

I lived in the prairies

before I got to know you

and I did not wait love but I was

laying in wait for and I jumped on the rose.

What more can they tell you?

I am neither good nor bad but a man,

and they will then associate the danger

of my life, which you know

and which with your passion you shared.

And good, this danger

is danger of love, of complete love

for all life,

for all lives,

and if this love brings us

the death and the prisons , I am sure that your big eyes,

as when I kiss them,

will then close with pride,

into double pride, love,

with your pride and my pride.

But to my ears they will come before

to wear down the tour

of the sweet and hard love which binds us,

and they will say: "The one you love,

is not a woman for you,

Why do you love her? I think

you could find one more beautiful,

more serious, more deep,

more other, you understand me,

look how she's light,

and what a head she has,

and look at how she dresses,

and etcetera and etcetera."

And I in these lines say:

Like this I want you, love,

love, Like this I love you,

as you dress

and how your hair lifts up

and how your mouth smiles,

light as the water

of the spring upon the pure stones,

Like this I love you, beloved.

To bread I do not ask to teach me

but only not to lack during every day of life.

I don't know anything about light, from where

it comes nor where it goes,

I only want the light to light up,

I do not ask to the night explanations,

I wait for it and it envelops me,

And so you, bread and light

And shadow are.

You came to my life

with what you were bringing,

made of light and bread and shadow I expected you,

and Like this I need you,

Like this I love you,

and to those who want to hear tomorrow

that which I will not tell them, let them read it here,

and let them back off today because it is early

for these arguments.

Tomorrow we will only give them

a leaf of the tree of our love, a leaf

which will fall on the earth

like if it had been made by our lips

like a kiss which falls

from our invincible heights

to show the fire and the tenderness

of a true love.

AS LONG AS FOOL'S LIKE THIS CONTINUE TO WRITE WORDS AND PHRASES AND EMOTIONS WITH SUCH POWER AND GRACE..I TOO WILL TRY TO EMULATE THEM

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SDaniels April 20, 2010 @ 4:24 a.m.

Just beautiful, nan. Neruda is also one of my favorites--

LOOK OUT TOMORROW: I'll post one of my faves of his odes here to share.

Have you heard Parra's sister, Violetta Parra sing? "Gracias por la vida..." Ahhhh. :)

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SDaniels April 20, 2010 @ 7:35 a.m.

Ok, here it is. Ken Krabbenhoft translated these odes--I don't know what refried thinks, but I like his translating style--not knowing Spanish, of course--but it seems he does Neruda some justice here:

Ode to Solitude

Solitude I must argue for you your consistency, your constancy which will outlast my breath anyway; when I say 'solitude' it is solid, too--a hair's crack, or a breath, and then it smooths longhollow, sieves the night, filters me like a starfish from silt run through

Solitude you are a white beach I try with limbs spread yet your width lies only beyond my stretch, this makes you solitude.

You throw me from the deep these moments, seeds or wriggling fish.

You give me the ground for works to do in the sun's warmth no magic, just the space for it where I build on collage of salt and loam, chalk cliffs of my fertile desert rising from the surrounding solitude--

I used to think mine at will; could raise my eyes inward, conduct the heavy fall of a drape of silence, but more like the blanket thrown over the bird's cage, making night of its mind's song. I said my solitude superior even to the bird's, my night will have sharp music of jasmine, the casement oiled open to the damp voice of my own thought firmly spread, I thought, but solitude is already there, woven into the flesh, threading each cell and leaks out like ink, or scent, one time jasmine, another rose, or nothing.

A collision with another pushes it back only a little, knows it necessary to the intimate; as in swell of child’s suckling, baby’s mouth, attention falls away to seed in the feeding rhythm, fingers clasp at the screen of mother’s face; both gazes rest swells apart.

Oh solitude you don’t accept seeds; you are a fact of them; give sense of place and form. A seed in water is solitude, a warm spill, a sink into earth for the taking root. In hordes, seeds each fall where they do, singly wear the shell which cracks toward light with the slow, lithe reach of green at beyond—

I thought you could be broken, a stem --brittle solitude, or a coastline sent receding from the waves, with the breath pause. But you’re always there, connecting breakers far and near, a low white hum even-toned under each cap of the moving crowd.

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nan shartel April 20, 2010 @ 1:26 p.m.

gorgeous SDaniels...the man has a way with words or the heart

yes he does!!!

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nan shartel April 20, 2010 @ 1:28 p.m.

and it is hard to translate Neruda SDaniels... with any pristine symmetry

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SDaniels April 20, 2010 @ 2:48 p.m.

I so agree, Nan! Am dying to hear what Gringo thinks about this one, too, since he speaks the Spanish and does translation here and there.

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SDaniels April 21, 2010 @ 12:51 a.m.

Ok, nan, I'll give it up. Wasn't a Neruda poem--c'est a moi!

I wrote it :) (As a response to Neruda's ode to solitude, since I disagreed with an important point in his poem)

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MsGrant April 21, 2010 @ 8 a.m.

What point did you disagree with? I am unfamiliar with this poet, so I am loving the education! Did you really write this? It's great. Can you post the original?

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antigeekess April 21, 2010 @ 8:45 a.m.

Re #4: That's pretty good stuff, ya sneaky bugger.

:)

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SDaniels April 22, 2010 @ 12:23 a.m.

re: #9: Yes, I wrote it. In a poetry class as an undergrad. We were to choose a poet and try to emulate whatever seemed to mark the essence, the recognizability of the poet's style. It's been a long time since I thought about any of this, but here goes: I chose also to take issue with a few ways Neruda characterized solitude, and denied its existence. It is a strange poem in this way, in a way that to me characterizes Neruda--seriousness abruptly interrupts or is interrupted by a kind of offhandedness, and an irreverence. Sometimes an almost silliness. Speaking of, I agree with Neruda about the silliness of young or trite poets writing about solitude or prostituting the concept of solitude as a privileged or necessary ‘headspace’ in which one writes about themes of love, etc. (there’s the theme of “opposites” here, as Neruda’s collection is called “Odes to Opposites,” but I do not think their misuse of a concept undoes or negates it. I also took issue with the idea of the desert as an unfertile or uncreative place, or that solitude is an unproductive state of mind (again--if solitude even existed, he says). I don't blame Neruda for taking issue with solitude; he was exiled for so many years himself, and surely knew it in many ways, as the poem does yet demonstrate. But perhaps his socio-political beliefs could not let him write of solitude, finally, as itself, or he was too self-conscious to indulge himself such a theme. Ironically, he ends by doing what the young poets do in naivete; he indulges in a counter-fantasy that solitude doesn’t really exist the way we think of it—yet, solitude is creative and fertile, as is the desert, and there is a solitude one feels in order to be able to create, to write. There are many seeds that DO exist and grow singly under the soil, and even in the most intimate of human exchanges, there is a kind of solitude possible—see my image of the young mother breastfeeding; both she and the child are lapsed into their own reveries, miles from one another. We exist and produce work together, yet apart, even as we are together. Neruda ends with a statement about shared human consciousness, a continuity of human brotherhood and tradition deeper than any solitude he could imagine, but though I would take it even further, and speak of a psychological continuity that binds us together as human beings, we are still agents of solitude, conscribed to live or think at times in solitude, whoever we may be. Of course, it has, as I say, been quite a long time. Doubtless, I could reread his poem and find that there is so much more to say than I have. At any rate, it is both an embarrassment and an honor to place my poem here next his! :)

(Poem to follow)

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SDaniels April 22, 2010 @ 12:23 a.m.

Ode to Solitude

By Pablo Neruda

(Ken Krabbenhoft translated)

O solitude, beautiful word: crab- grass grows between your syllables! But you are only a pale word, fool’s gold and counterfeit coin! I painted solitary in literary strokes, dressed it in a tie I had copied from a book, and the shirt of sleep. But I first really saw it when I was by myself. I’d never seen an animal quite like it: it looks like a hairy spider or the flies that hover over dung, and its camel paws have suckers like a deep-sea snake. It stinks like a warehouse piled high with brown hides of rats and seals that have been rotting forever. Solitude, I want you to stop lying through the mouths of books. Consider the brooding young poet: he’s looking for a black marble slab to seduce the sleeping senorita; in your honor he erects a simple statue that he’ll forget the morning of his wedding. But in the half-light of those early years we boys stumble across her and take her for a black goddess shipped from distant islands. We play with her torso and pledge the perfect reverence of childhood. As for the creativity Of solitude: it’s a lie. Seeds don’t live singly underneath the soil: it takes hordes of them to insure the deep harmony of our lives, and water is but the transparent mother of invisible submarine choirs.

The desert Is the earth’s solitude, and mankind’s solitude is sterile like the desert. The same hours, nights and days wrap the whole planet in their cloak— but they leave nothing in the desert. Solitude does not accept seeds.

A ship on the sea isn’t the only image of its beauty It flies over the water like a dove, end product of wondrous collaborations between fires and stokers, navigators and stars, men’s arms and flags in congregation, shared loves and destinies.

In its search for self-expression music sought out the choir’s coral hardness. It was written not by a single man but by a whole score of musical relations.

And this word which I poise here suspended from a branch, this song that yearns solely for the solitude of your lips to repeat it— the air inscribes it at my side, lives that were lived long before me. And you, who are reading my ode: you’ve used it against your own solitude. We’ve never met, and yet it’s your hands that wrote these lines, with mine.

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MsGrant April 22, 2010 @ 7:47 a.m.

Whew! That's a lot to take in. Thank you, SD. I am going to re-read later. I find the concept of solitude very interesting, because I tend to guard mine at all cost and find the outside world will try to break down my door if I do not respond to it immediately.

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MsGrant April 22, 2010 @ 9:35 a.m.

Of solitude: it’s a lie. Seeds don’t live singly underneath the soil: it takes hordes of them to insure the deep harmony of our lives, and water is but the transparent mother of invisible submarine choirs.

Perhaps an Ode to Communism and its philosophy? I don't know, I'm no scholar but what I took away from this was that Neruba viewed solitude as a selfish endeavor and that one man cannot stand alone without his fellow "seeds". And because his exile was not a matter of choice (self-imposed) he viewed solitude as not his friend, but his enemy, or as something that does not deserve to be given its own name.

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SDaniels April 22, 2010 @ 12:54 p.m.

Exactly, Grant. Sharp eye! There is also a lot of naive sexism in the poem--startling, really, though Neruda's been known to write in a vein of brash machismo. It's like, ok, let's--if you must--quash naive the romantic notion of the privileged, decadent Romantic poet, who may, via "solitude," ponder death and her troussoir at HIS leisure, but replace it with awkward avowals of socialist 'togetherness...' Though I wrote this as a young'un, I think my image of the mother and child's unthinking modes of solitude, and of seeds germinating alone were more than poetic--they are true. And I meet Neruda's image of the reader writing the poem (always a great--and yes, true--thing;) with the image of solitude nesting in the brain of each individual in the moving crowd (under each "cap"--like solitary breakers on the ocean). Enough, I don't need to add even more narcissism to the mix by explicating my own work! :)

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MsGrant April 22, 2010 @ 6:53 p.m.

SD, I have to hand it to you. You do get people thinking.

"And you, who are reading my ode: you’ve used it against your own solitude. We’ve never met, and yet it’s your hands that wrote these lines, with mine."

Brash indeed.

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SDaniels April 26, 2010 @ 2:11 a.m.

Of course, my answer to your first quotation is just as invocative of my specific set of cultural influences...

Neruda invokes images of "hordes" of entities working together toward some common good--the people--thus emphasizing a democratic or socialist flavor to the metaphor:

Of solitude: it’s a lie. Seeds don’t live singly underneath the soil: it takes hordes of them to insure the deep harmony of our lives, and water is but the transparent mother of invisible submarine choirs.

while SD is yet under the influence of post-industrial modernity and its existential romances, if not its Romantic, stresses the solitary, yet somehow less laborious action of each seed finding its own way:

solitude you don’t accept seeds; you are a fact of them; give sense of place and form. A seed in water is solitude, a warm spill, a sink into earth for the taking root. In hordes, seeds each fall where they do, singly wear the shell which cracks toward light

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MsGrant April 26, 2010 @ 8:16 a.m.

I like your way much better. For the greater good has always struck me as a shallow promise, for who is the benefactor then?

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antigeekess April 26, 2010 @ 10:20 a.m.

MmmmmMMM! He's good, isn't he? :)

Agreed about the desert, long favored both physically and metaphorically as a place of introspection and creative fruition. Puts me in mind of this, from perhaps my favorite rock album ever. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RrPDwL...

The last stanza... "And this word which I poise here suspended from a branch, this song that yearns solely for the solitude of your lips to repeat it— the air inscribes it at my side, lives that were lived long before me. And you, who are reading my ode: you’ve used it against your own solitude. We’ve never met, and yet it’s your hands that wrote these lines, with mine..."

...evokes the memory of the 3rd line from Uncle Walt's most famous work (and probably others as well, but none spring to mind as easily): "For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you."

Gorgeous expressions of Unity Consciousness. No better subject for poetry, IMO.

YMMV.

:)

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SDaniels April 26, 2010 @ 12:02 p.m.

"For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you."

Yes. And the timing of that line is beyond perfect!

Of course, I am not comparing myself to Pablo, nor would I to Walt, AG. Grant and I are talkin' strictly ideas here, and I feel the "single seed" carries more truth for me right now

--like a palm seed.

Ever seen one? Something almost invisible scatters in the salt breeze, sinks in the warm tropical sand, becomes a big round coconut-looking thing, all on its lonesome, pushing up into the sun and weathering every storm.

PS: Grant, the prof in that class loved my poem, as I said, but disagreed with me about how seeds grow. He really thought they had to be in "hordes." I did all this googling, interesting stuff about seed hulls and germination, etc. etc., and came up with the indestructible, plain fact of a palm seed sitting on the shore (which I laminated and put in the binder with the poem).

:)

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SDaniels April 26, 2010 @ 12:04 p.m.

re: #18:

"I like your way much better. For the greater good has always struck me as a shallow promise, for who is the benefactor then?"

The "greater" is the benefactor, as per politico-usual. ;)

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MsGrant April 26, 2010 @ 12:10 p.m.

That's great, SD!! I certainly hope he gave you an A+.

Going through the phases of life I enjoy my solitude and my single seed status. When my single stalk needs the company of others, it's nice to know I am surrounded by a field, for there is unity all around us, should we wish to seek it out. We are lucky to have that choice.

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antigeekess April 26, 2010 @ 7:21 p.m.

"Grant and I are talkin' strictly ideas here, and I feel the "single seed" carries more truth for me right now

--like a palm seed."

Or a mustard seed?

Or two sides of the same coin? Or two different ends of the telescope, perhaps...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sEJ6jj... (I KNEW I could count on my friend UnAsleep for a reference to the "universe in a grain of sand.)

On the other hand... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7-djY6xnHUs&feature=related

:)

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MsGrant April 27, 2010 @ 10 a.m.

Interesting theory. I just happened to read something this morning before I viewed the first video. John Rock, a doctor who lead the research on the Pill, expressed in 1954 that an oral contraceptive "would be the greatest aid ever discovered to the happiness and security of individual families - indeed, to mankind" - his reasoning? - because "the greatest menace to world peace and decent standards of life today is not atomic energy, but sexual energy."

The ideas of infinity and eternity are frightening and exhilarating, and the concept that procreation creates the universe in a never ending stream of matter has always been something of a simplistic way to explain the existence of both. But it makes sense. Energy and matter need to go somewhere. Everything dies, but where does it go? I've heard the explanation of God as being "God is in you." I think many people have gone quite mad trying to figure this stuff out. That's why we spend so much time trying to control our little grain of sand here called earth. When I think of us spinning around in space it brings feelings of insecurity and fear. Men manifest this inability to control the universe into wars and religious dogma to exercise what little control they have. I could go on and on, but I lack the energy....and Stephen Hawkings brilliance. I can grasp theories, but quantum physics, etc. are fascinating and far, far over my head.

People who have experimented with LSD have been said to come close to the meaning of our existence. Our minds must first be opened in order to absorb that which is not fathomable to what little of our minds actually are open.

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nan shartel April 28, 2010 @ 11:33 a.m.

WOW!!!!

SDaniels...u wrote it....i did that once with one of my favorite poet T S Elliot

it was lots of fun to do...for a long time the signature on my e-mail was a T S Elliot quote

"I have measured out my life with coffee spoons". T S Elliot

ur writing and Neruda's can be covered by another quote of Elliot's

"Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood". T S Elliot

and Grantie..the Jesuits I-Thou model along with a location in the brain called the God connection elaborated that

The Hindu's consider that sexual energy as a path to God in Kundalini Yoga...as with mutual climax the relevance of 2 distinct bodies merge into one

i wish i could have taken the kind of courses u did Suzanne...when i was younger i would have relished them...i rarely delve into the deepness of such thought now..and if so only in poetry...and even then not with the expansiveness of ur personal inquiry

i'm so glad i came here today to read this whole thread

and why the s*** aren't u writing poetry Suzanne?????

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SDaniels April 29, 2010 @ 12:50 a.m.

Thanks, nan! Coming from you, that means quite a lot ;)

I wrote poetry in my twenties, with only a few attempts at verse (forced, in school) before that. I quit after a nervous breakdown in '98, and just never went back. Wrote short stories as well--mmm, not as well, actually ;)

Have just put any framing poetic ideas or images that have come along since into a sentence here and there.

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SDaniels April 29, 2010 @ 12:57 a.m.

re: #24:

"People who have experimented with LSD have been said to come close to the meaning of our existence. Our minds must first be opened in order to absorb that which is not fathomable to what little of our minds actually are open."

Yeah, but Grant--and your post was beautifully written--what does that mean, exactly? --"the meaning of existence." Is this a phrase anyone uses with any amount of seriousness? It just backends you into an endless series of familiar contradictions, though they can be exploited for fun and profit ;)

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MsGrant April 29, 2010 @ 8:11 a.m.

Religion explains away the seriousness of the question by giving a pat explanation and tidy little ending. Be good, give your money to the church, go to heaven. Or nirvana. Or your virgins. But to us who don't buy the man with the white beard on a throne in the cloud theory, it makes us want to know what the hell it's all about, which leads to thinking too much, which leads to the endless series of familiar contradictions, to be exploited for fun and profit (love that). I want to know what happens!! But the only way to find out is to die. Which is why it is too scary to give too much thought to it. Leave that to the deep thinkers. Where is Timothy Leary when you need him? I think the acid took the edge off. Although many, many years ago, in the desert, with the aid of some Oregon caps, I thought I talked to god. So I woke my boyfriend at the time and said "I think I talked to god and god explained it all to me."

"What'd he say?"

"Crap, I don't remember".

Note to self: carry notebook and pen when taking a desert "trip".

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SDaniels April 29, 2010 @ 2:01 p.m.

I do feel as though I have experienced a little of what it's like, mentally, to die. From a young age, I had grand mal and petit mal seizures (they thought, due to epilepsy, but was really a condition of low blood pressure), and with the grand mal there was this interesting "tunneling" effect, as my vision grew dim, just before I passed out. Coming back to, I felt as though I had had amnesia, but that I had not been completely "out." I had the sense--every single time it happened--that I had been dreaming "hard;" in the way that you wake up from sleep, and feel you have been worn out by dreaming. I always sensed that in this "dreaming" while unconscious, I lived another life, was another person, or perhaps the same person, but in a completely different life, or circumstances. It could have been that I was stuck in past memories, recycling through what seemed unfamiliar as I transitioned back to consciousness...there is more to add, but ask me privately, and I'll tell you there.

Grant confessed:

"...in the desert, with the aid of some Oregon caps, I thought I talked to god."

Hey, doll, what are "Oregon caps?" I could google, but find your explanations of things so much more entertaining ;)

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SurfPuppy619 April 29, 2010 @ 2:27 p.m.

From a young age, I had grand mal and petit mal seizures == Brutal.....glad you are over it.

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MsGrant April 29, 2010 @ 3:15 p.m.

I also was treated for adult-onset epilepsy starting when I was 15 that went away as mysteriously as it appeared at around 24. I took Dilantin for eight years. All told, I suffered probably 20 grand mal seizures. The tunnel vision you describe is part of what is called an "aura". I used to get a peculiar taste and smell, and my doctor told me that people that get auras are actually lucky because they can anticipate the oncoming seizure and lie down. I wasn't so lucky some of the time. But during the aura I would experience something so close to being able to see the future or the past, something very close to what you described!! When I would wake up, for at least two hours I could not recognize my surroundings or anyone I knew. It was terrifying. My mother, sisters and friends told me I would start screaming when I woke up because I did not know who they were. To this day, whenever I am driving and I feel peculiar, I start panicking. But my scans have been clean for over 20 years, so I just hope it never comes back. Did yours finally go away? I am so sorry you had to go through that. From someone who knows, it is horrible.

Regarding Oregon caps, think Alice in Wonderland...White Rabbit.....delectable sauteed in butter.....

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antigeekess April 29, 2010 @ 9:59 p.m.

"Where is Timothy Leary when you need him?"

Dead since 1996. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Timothy_...

I saw a Charlie Rose interview with Leary's godchild, Winona Ryder. She said he died with a big grin on his face, ready for the trip.

I have an acid blotter signed by Leary on May 25, 1996 -- 6 days before he died. It's the most delightfully subversive thing I own.

:)

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antigeekess April 29, 2010 @ 10:18 p.m.

"I always sensed that in this "dreaming" while unconscious, I lived another life, was another person, or perhaps the same person, but in a completely different life, or circumstances. It could have been that I was stuck in past memories, recycling through what seemed unfamiliar as I transitioned back to consciousness...there is more to add, but ask me privately, and I'll tell you there."

Chickens***. You vill regurgitate zis information for our entertainment at once! Schnell! ;)

It's a bloody interesting topic, near death experiences specific to seizure sufferers. Wonder if anyone's written THAT book yet? If so, I can't find it.

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=near+death+experiences+seizures&x=0&y=0

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nan shartel April 29, 2010 @ 11:51 p.m.

God has never been a very important concept to me..even tho i was raised Catholic and went to Catholic school from 1st grade thru 9th grade

however i do agreed with the Jesuits and think that if there is a God he/she has been intertwined within us from the beginning

i loved Paramahansa Yogananda's book the "Autobiography of a Yogi"

many thought he was the return of the Christ..but that's neither here or there...the interesting thing about his ideas was that God was where u find him...and with an open inquisitive mind u can find him anyway

even in ur seizures

death i consider either an adventure or a temporary ending and am unconcerned about it

i'm not interest in any answers to any earthshaking philosophical questions however inductive logic intriques me...i'm also very interested in new discoveries in scientific exploration

u said SDaniels "what does that mean, exactly? --"the meaning of existence." Is this a phrase anyone uses with any amount of seriousness? It just backends you into an endless series of familiar contradictions"

i agree in many ways with that statement..rumination upon that kind of thought "circles the wagons" in ways...and doesn't allow for new insightful movement

we r such new very young organisms...just a blip on the radar of evolution...if we last... considering the speed at which our minds have developed...we may...if we don't kill ourselves first...become very wise

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nan shartel April 29, 2010 @ 11:56 p.m.

i seen god oncet in a candle flame

of course smokin' hemp laced with LSD may have had something to do with it

he/she only revealed one thing to me

"I AM BEAUTIFUL BEYOND ALL UNDERSTANDING"

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nan shartel April 29, 2010 @ 11:58 p.m.

~~i can seriously say i was awestruck~~

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antigeekess April 30, 2010 @ 12:58 a.m.

"i loved Paramahansa Yogananda's book the "Autobiography of a Yogi""

OMG, nan. I haven't read that since the 80s. But I remember loving it as well.

"...of course smokin' hemp laced with LSD may have had something to do with it"

LOL. You do like to do things up right, dontcha?

"he/she only revealed one thing to me "I AM BEAUTIFUL BEYOND ALL UNDERSTANDING""

I believe it. There's a quote that I've seen attributed to everyone from Einstein to Deepak Chopra: "The universe is not only stranger than we think, but stranger than we CAN think." Infinitely and unfathomably intricate, yet somehow mysteriously collapsible into a single point of unity consciousness that is itself both infinitesimal and infinite.

My British ex-boyfriend -- now almost 60 -- has been through all manner of religions. High priest of several Wiccan covens in the late 70s and early 80s, through a very deep occult phase, then a lighter new agey phase, now he's settled quite comfortably into Hinduism. I get that. It's by far the oldest and complex of the major world religions, and most reflective of the realities of the universe, IMO.

Hinduism reflects the idea of unity splitting into duality, then to endless multiplicities (the 10,000 things) -- and back again. They don't get stuck at the level of dualism, and they understand that there's no real contradiction between unity and multiplicity -- the one contains/is a component of the other.

"Beautiful beyond all understanding."

NDEs? Just the revolving door into the foyer of a house with more rooms and mysteries than the Winchester Mystery Castle. You get a glimpse, and then are swept right back out into the street.

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MsGrant April 30, 2010 @ 7:59 a.m.

"I have an acid blotter signed by Leary on May 25, 1996 -- 6 days before he died. It's the most delightfully subversive thing I own."

OMG! You could start your own religion based on that alone!! Build a shrine - they will come.

Sometimes I think that we will be given the answers to the universe based on the sheer odds of being born. If you think about the trillionsXXXX of cells that could unite to form a human being and that we are created out of a union of two people based on attraction, the odds against us even being here are too great to give a number to. Maybe the reward for enduring what we call "life" is something far greater....

I like the idea that we are evolving toward wisdom, but our brains are not equipped to handle the onslaught of technology that is consistently heaped upon us. More has happened in the last 100 years in terms of "progress" than any time in history. This has contributed to what we now refer to as "depression" and "anxiety". Rather than embrace wisdom, we are cultivating other human traits not so desirable, such as greed and violence. I suppose like nan said that "if we don't kill ourselves first", which is what I am afraid may happen, we will learn what is important and come to understand that peace, rather than financial gain and power, is the ultimate goal.

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nan shartel April 30, 2010 @ 12:54 p.m.

there r many rooms in my mansion

there r many paths to enlightenment

because of our equally understandable dark natures

there will be many stumbling blocks along the way

will we "get it"

or will our children's children "get it"

do we need to "get it"

if we "got it" would we believe it

“So powerful is the light of unity that it can illuminate the whole earth.” Baha'ullah

“One man may hit the mark, another blunder; but heed not these distinctions. Only from the alliance of the one, working with and through the other, are great things born.” Antoine de Saint-Exupery

“Unity to be real must stand the severest strain without breaking” Mahatma Gandhi

so many super smart people have told us some of the truths of living

here's my quote

~~open ur ears and listen~~

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