This is the spectrum of colours. All humans can see it. However, we do not all see it the same way. Reading as you are the English words of this article, then its likely that you automatically divide this spectrum as: Violet, Indigo, Blue, Green, Yellow, Orange, and Red. Each colour clearly ends and is divided in another. This is a truth of the universe is it not?
Well, actually it isn’t. (more…)
Should one of the creatures with the ability to decipher these very written words visit the place in which the following story unfolds they would surely find nothing spectacular. The bland tranquil openness would most likely be of little interest, and the upon digestion of the scene the spectator might condense it in the rather unexciting verbal epitome of “Yard.” However, for the seeing eye the area was buzzing with life, and the colours blended in spectacular tapestry. The other senses were tickled with the odours mixing in perfumed fragrance, and the humming of a beautiful symphony played by a cross section of instruments of Nature that filled the space. “Preposterous!” the reading and speaking creature might exclaim, but one mustn’t speak too soon, for it is not Nature who is mute but Man who is deaf. Unfortunately, for the Yard even a slight sensibility to listening would make no difference here, for every time Man came to the Yard he came with such a being-penetrating, air-shaking, ground-rattling, and roaring companion that nothing could be heard at all. (more…)
It was a nice sunny Wednesday afternoon, and I was walking through a park downtown. The breeze was blowing, ducks were quacking, and up ahead a man was lying down on the path not moving. Some people walked on by without a second glance, some began to gather around, as did I, but all kept their distances. I heard some people say that he was sleeping, others that he was drunk. However, by simply moving around to see his face I clearly saw that he wasn’t sleeping. Blood stained his hair and a red streak was leaking from his open and glassy eye. We huddled around un-assuredly, and someone called 911. (more…)
Hey you! Yea you person on the bus
Dude so calloused, girl without trust
Bitchy whinny bad vibes for all to hear
You smear and sneer hate disguised fear
Don’t you know its bad to air out wine?
I’m French, so let me warn that you align
To cringe and sputter in disgust and anger
Discovering mouthful of vinegar
Instead of the sweet scarlet vine nectar
Of life sipping cup expecting better
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Oenology: science of the vines
I doubt you are licensed, maker of whine
See, autumn chill affects grape quality
Audible shrill simply makes more filthy
product you ferment on public transport
stop that export no one wants to import
Shut down the winery and test this glass
Taste, sandpaper tongue, what could come to pass
If you turn the thorn of your prose
To twist towards tolerance into a rose
–
First: the crimson of your grail and being
Will not be blood splattering by beating
But scarlet passion, vibrating meaning
Budding vocabulary blossoming
Once deaf to the divine that’s now enshrined
Carved as your words to the marble of mind
So forget the meme its cool to be mean
Sick to be a queen, above and pristine
Free yourself from restricting crime and rhyme
Won’t you please find the time to shine sublime?
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Second: Go! Flow and glow, don’t stop the rap
Give in to the trap, the pop, the snap
The flow of lines the sounds that bind
The mind to the universe and find
Fire in the beat the heat of the verse
Flint of tongue sparking the soul from the hearse
Immerse in its flame converse without shame
Sharp dialects reflect who won’t be tame
Weave words of worth to win without hardship
Wounds weapons wails, forget bullshit to worship
–
Peace in Eden of imagination
Love in the art of enunciation
The liquid members of this vine club
Do with divine elbows rub
Dionysus don’t kick it
With vinegar drinkers or those who make it
So put in your headphones now if you wish
Complain of slow bus so bust English
Language could bring you to destination
If you present yourself at the station
So don’t ever stop the rap
Don’t ever stop the rap
Don’t stop the rap
Raise your hand in front of you, palm outwards, and look at it. Take a moment to take it in, and see its shape, see what it is. Now turn it over and look at your palm. Once you’ve taken that in, spin it around. Look at it from close, far, up or down; move your fingers around. What you have just done is exactly what you did when you were first born and were exploring the world. This is the first thing you did; your own hands and feet were the first subjects in your life of discovery. This is the innate wisdom of the child. We spin our hands around to get multiple takes on them because simply looking at your extended hand without seeing the palm or where the skin bends in the joints it is difficult to know what it is, and what it is for. Sure this might sound silly now, but that is because you know what hands are. When you were born you had no idea, and this is how you started the exploration of hands, most likely followed by experiments with smell and taste. (more…)
Foreword
Cities are, by virtue of being composed of living Humans, alive themselves. This was demonstrated by comparing Cities to the 7 Characteristics of Life in the first part of this mini series. In the second part we will shift the focus from the physiology to the psychology of Cities. (more…)
Being immersed in our respective culture and societal patterns makes us so used to their presence that we do not detect them anymore. (more…)
** Hey all, I turned this school paper half into a blog post, and I thought I’d share it. Enjoy!
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He appeared, a little bit out of nowhere. My eyes opened in a start behind my sunglasses as Bob Dylan’s guitar and harmonica suddenly began to play on my shuffled music. I was on a crowded bus, and before me stood a young man. He was tall. His long brown hair was cleared from his grey eyes, and fell onto the brown jacket he wore over his checkered patterned dress shirt. He looked nonchalantly studious, or studiously laid back, I couldn’t tell which. He seemed a bit clumsy, and a bit goofy. The coincidental combination of this odd looking man, and of the corny up beat Bob Dylan guitar and harmonica made me chuckle. Not meanly, but the song just seemed to fit his personality perfectly. (more…)
The other day the topic of lucid dreaming came up in conversation. I said I had never been able to really control a dream. Every time I noticed the signs of the dream world, the spell was broken. Like seeing a magician’s true trick. If my conscious mind takes over the reverie, then the same laws of the conscious world apply; and the fantastic qualities of the dream start to disappear. I once held a brief interest in trying to learn to lucid dream after conversations triggered by the release of the movie Inception, which did not lead far. However, an emotionally deeper catalyst has rekindled my desire to plunge into psychological exploration, and discover the wonders of the dream realm. (more…)
In the early days of November leading up to the 11th, we wear the red poppy on our jackets in order to honour and remember the men and women in uniform who defended, and are still defending Canadian ideals. We remember the 117 000 Canadians who died in the First and Second World Wars, the Korean war, and all who have served and perished afterwards. The wearing of the poppy is an easy and simple task demanded of us which contrasts sharply with the ultimate sacrifice made by those they represent. We wear it lest we forget the potential evil of men, and the ultimate cost of war when diplomacy fails, Lest we forget those who died for us. But we apathetic Canadians with our dwindling amount of poppies have forgotten the men who survived, the ideals they defended, and therefore the men who died as well. (more…)
Julien Dupont 