Le Lapin

What is the true interest in making the invisible, the visible? Usually this comes at the slow-rate of disclosing the truth in plein-air, or making an obvious fact of life hidden by social rhetoric (often referred to as a construct) exposed to the grounding, undeniable qualities of life. That is not ideological life, but the actual means in which each of us got to be here, and that which can be observed and documented. Yet, in these documentations, entirely different subjective experiences are not only plausible but to be expected- for within each of us contains a multiverse of experiences that ricochet off of today, the past, and slingshot into ideas launched into the future.

In the searching for possibility, invention, discovery…the notion of something new under the sun, I beg each of your minds to consider that which could be to today or within the next year, to consider a reality remaining in wait.

The unknowns are often created in mythologized spaces. These are the spaces of the mind, dreams, darkness or in light such as an effervescent rainbow. These are not lasting but transitory, meaning they are contingent upon rare circumstances that may arrive but a few times in an entire life, and rely upon factors of predictable or serendipitous means.

Leaving life and the future up to such circumstantial randomness-could be seen as constellation points echoing that of astrological mysticism and not the heightened technological capacities for choice we have today. The reduction of reality combined with the heightening of ideological means has not removed humans propensity for error, but seems to have expanded the fallacious follies in which we permit adolescent behavior further into adulthood, pointing at each politician or media outlet we gave our personal choice to all along.

I am not outside such follies, for over 12 years I took the advice of experts about my body to find out they were dead wrong, and I had paid for that with time and reproducing years…but this is not an article about that- this is an article about the ocean, 100 year tides, and whether or not personal stories have any value in a society expecting everything for free.

The cost (and pain) of such chasms can be felt in our generational bereavements. The decline of populations for a moralistic, globalism, gives rise to a populace that has no regards for such ideological constraints. Life based on moral or intellectual means is not supposed to be black and white, dualism or overtly simplistic, and yet in the Sci-Fi 0 and 1 times there seems to be sadly no end to measuring through numerical value instead of a closer to the earth perspective-perhaps even a from the sea-bottom up perspective….

These de-facto concerns afflict each and every one of the bodies on the planet today. So when it comes to the rights of human life, and to how many choices each body, gender or identity are permitted, I always must ask: what is the result?

Because the results of choices are not necessarily flags of virtue or wisdom if they result in the decimation of life. Choices made ad-hoc, are not the same as those thoroughly undertaken with considerable thought to responsibility.

And so this post, while seemingly topological until now will become a bit more personal for the paid viewers. I have invited you all to be, because the cost of my life is not to be strewn about in a sadomasochistic way. Yes, that is how I view Social Media is…it is someone’s free time cost to the vulnerability of making a personal life experience free entertainment. Nothing is free.

All forms of life have costs: monetary or otherwise. That is why kindness can be such a sincere or volatile tool: either someone subjectively regards soft-internal choices with reverence or drinks them as plentiful, unending waters. Alas, even in death, water flow becomes meaningful to decomposition, to the awareness and considering mind, all sediments bear weight.

For a long time I debated sharing this story: for one I consider it embarrassing, and for another, in its humiliation was baked in humility and a type of parental friendship that I deeply value. I know not what to do with it alone but share it to the minds of those who value rabbit holes that seek truth…so for those who do, thank you for your support. And for those who do yet not, you can subscribe or send me a note to work out a legal and moral exchange…because no, I will not send you my feet, body parts or selfies at your beck and call…such cultural contempt for life itself holds no ground nor space here.

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The story is simple enough: I decided to visit my friend and mentor, John, where he decided to retire from his construction work in Norway, to paint in Denmark. He has looked out for me during my years in Norway. To me, he has and remains my Nordic father, and to my spirit, the critical and kind voice that undid my cultural programming or belief systems in the kindest way possible. To he, he said I am always giving and gave some kind of meaning and purpose. To this I never fully understand because our relationship was purely platonic and of this kind of mentor-friendship dynamic, alas, I can understand a need to share and give, and as life has been entirely different for him, he could see some naivete’s or deficiencies in me that could grow with learning, or as I prefer to call them, lessonings, meaning the diminishment of ideas, and the embracing of more realness.

The weather was scheduled to be a storm. He told me a-priori it (the storm and possible sea level rise) was a rare occurrence and that we could stay on land or go for an adventure: a simple this or that choice…and that if I chose the adventure, we could turn around if I felt otherwise.

Knowing that I am not all knowing but intuitive, I went for the adventure. Within hours of arriving to Aarø, I felt it was time to get off the ride. The sense of something that would cause me stress was imminent. He said let’s just relax and see how it goes in the morning, and if it was bad, then we would leave. I insisted I wanted to go then or soon as possible, but the ferries stopped running at this hour (not late mind you, around 7pm) , so to early bed we went to awake to the howling wind. At first I was not scared, even the flooded streets did not scare me. After the life I have experienced, little does frighten me, but I was in for a lesson later. At breakfast, which I usually prefer to avoid, I ate because something inside suggested there might not be food later; and there we learned there was no boat until the storm subsided. Mentally knowing there was no out from this island surrounded by rising sea waters bothered me in a quiet, back of the mind way, but not in a frenzied energy… just yet.

We took a walk around this small island, and I decided to be more present as a means to delay what may or may not come to pass later, the sense of knowing flood waters can contaminate drinking waters, and the fact that these worries indicate a sort of oft-called “white privilege” …something that has nothing to do with the color of my skin but the infrastructure and standard of living I was raised in. I never take a single thing in life for granted, as in-often as people believe that- that’s their problem. What I do know is I have a fear of being trapped because of my recent lived experiences where I felt stuck in an invisible cage…a kind of social, mental and spiritual obligation to look after the sanctuary of the home…at the cost of my ability to fly …

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I loved how he smelled

and every word he chose

with his voice

I heard all he knows

And would not say

So I kissed all his way

holding back my being

showing just what I felt

he could love

and not fear everything

I had never let grow

I felt like a girl

a part of me

who I never got to know

could come to the light

and fall into the dark

where our souls flowed

in the moment I knew

I opened up a window

To a realm beyond earth

where our souls did ignite

and in there was a light

I tasted the truth

that in me is love

and a mother to give

I just want to be held again

and smell his skin

but alone I’ll sleep

in my own hug

just for awhile

for deep down into

the truth of life

is the way finds

a way

to create.

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The collected effervescence

of the subconscious

hovers within and around

and we call that air.

The assumed judgements

of the imaginary

animates the realm of the soul

and we call that psyche.

The embodied wounds

of the generations

instruct the genetic expressions

and we call that personality and appearance.

The embraced heart

of the creator

touches the lever of transm…

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Each soul in a shell has a story to tell

along my way I happened to fall

into a trap I awoke later to find

far north in a space, a place

where the sun does not sow

stories of fruit nor blisters, but instead

ice reveals its contours

not flames create hell

where souls go to learn, why animals howl

deep in without any hold

inching closer to where a whistled wind bl…

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Art exists within realms of the sign, symbol, material, and mental, and some will go toward the soulful, spiritual, and emotional. These are not separated as to be opposing forces really, though culture psycho-socially often construes these human experiences that way. After some decades of wondering why anyone says art does nothing for them, I have arrived at the idea they may simply not be a fan of Understanding.

Within the flood of sensory experiences, art has often led me to deeper insight into the workings of the spiritual, psychological, social, and realms of Understanding faster than any other form of study. Dance art, painting art, sculpture, photography, all of it. The arts or humanities are vying for their value in the gamified, technocratic social realm we play and live in today.

The separation of art from science seems rooted in a form of nostalgia denying the discourse around Cartesian Dualism being little more than a bad idea by a likely mentally unwell creature, and unawareness that much of that which we call art was born from scientific methodology. The classist or theistic gatekeeping has liquified through wider access to learning resources, and yet the premise of their existence becomes a type of invisible yet real wall many walk into. The ability to read invisible walls constructed through subconscious media digestion is a high-energy demand.

Visual literacy is an extended high-energy demand from our screen devices. Each of us encounters floods of images, and whether or not they are consciously digested, our body or subconscious receptors have to digest and do something with them. As is said in Japan, the body first eats with the eyes. Each encounter becomes part of the individual and collective imaginary realm.

In the notion we nary use a fraction of our brain organs’ potential, I have come to understand the energetic load of art as giving more than it takes. Additionally, as I found while studying art, the untold value of having to look at and consider deeply another point of view cognitively still pales to the ability to empathize with that view. Empathizing with views provided an understanding of the distinctions between strengths and weaknesses and the realm of imaginary and linguistic dominance tactics. The seeding of doubt through sophistry was an experience of having an invasive vine species within my body.

Whether someone has their base Maslow needs met or not, art serves anyone who chooses to engage in it. Of course, we have all met people with those needs met who somehow seem to believe they need even more. Some of these are the intellectuals serving gods and archetypes they believe are holy and good. This kind of self and collective anointing reminds me of the conflicts waged by Christian missionaries. The dominant worldview is composed of that plus, Fruedian and to a lesser degree Jungian psychoanalytic views, plus commodities and fiat systems, plus social dominance hierarchies, plus technocratic and economic manipulations and distortions, plus, plus, plus…there is a lot to contend with. This has led me to make fewer images with greater care.

I wish to share with you this image I made both through study and intuition. The idea the person making the thing knows everything about the art feels shrouded in mystery, given that no matter how much someone studies or knows, there are still new realms of knowing to understand despite the embedded patterning from the past. That said, the difference between an outsider artist and a professional artist is typified by the ability to do with or without great inspiration, and on purpose. That notion in itself is a different rabbit hole since today’s inside art celebrates the mimicry of formerly outsider artmakers.

5 layers of different colors, or effects, layered upon the other, and yet the referent remains the same. The candle is often used in Dutch still-life paintings and therefore exists in the collective psyche. A small fire is more manageable than a large bonfire, the practical function of the candle performs symbolically as evident in its popularity in the commodity market. In the dark, we need light to see, unless we develop the inner sensorial landscape well enough to live blindly. Yet the objects are what they are, regardless of their sign value. Despite being alive to say, as one of my professors called “trust me art” these candles and their holders were IKEA and not even owned by me or the person who had them on the shelf. They were rented out, in the sense that in a furnished apartment, nothing belongs to you. Everything on loan here, one candle leans and the other is upright. That is the fact that anyone can see, and psychologically deeper the sign of the candle as a flame that burns can be applied to the pair. In the two, a relationship is evoked. As in some relationships, one person stands up, one leans away or sometimes leans together. Unlit, the objects hover around each other hinting at the eventual outcome of these candles upon lighting. Due to the laws of physics, or what people call laws of nature, one of the candles will burn out leaving a puddle of wax and the other will burn longer with some drips. Unless someone can go in and change the scene, that eventuality will occur because of the structure of their being.

Further on, the trees growing in the foreground with Svartisen in the background depict similar visual reads with entirely different results and subject matter. In the background is the receding glacier altering the mineral composition of the landscape around it. The facts of climate change relies on having some internal resources that may have not been needed for the stable history humans have prospered under. I would like to venture into that through the concept of lack, instead of the popularized self-flagellation or argumentative approach. Not to serve as the leaning away candle as the social bias for anyone who speaks calmly about current matters is imagined to be, but to be more as the two upright trees.

Lack can sometimes be described as a sensation within the body or a condition around the body that does not fit a picture of what someone wants their reality to look like. Both of these descriptions point towards a feeling or a condition, and both of these areas are guideposts towards what a sense of lack points back toward a lack of choice, often rooted in lack of the awareness of choices. The momentum is often found in self-advocacy, which requires courage since humans can, despite abundance, remain competitive instead of gracious about their resources.

When a choice has not been made, often life seems mysterious, mystical, enigmatic, spiritual, aspirational-take your pick of word to describe a sort of head-swirly sensation. Even when a choice is made, the notion the universe goes to make it happen has come under the microscope in my self-reflections. This last part is key here, as though I read a lot of scientific studies, and engage in polyglot practices, at the end of the day, like anyone else with a soul, I have to reconcile these with my mind, spirit, and body.

The first place I invested time into studying the notion of lack was through logic and reason by studying rationality and irrationality. This establishes a particular worldview: where one person thinks the opposite of fire is water, in reality, the opposite of fire is not fire.

The conflation of axioms is what I have found as the gnarly roots of new age dogma, and the ways the social realm has been manipulated, and warped, the belief truth doesn’t exist grows, and the individuals’ will gets decentered by sociological pressures to fit in. This is where the fantasmorga or storytelling overrides logic and reason through emotion. Yet the emotional body is intelligent, not sinful, nor demonic. The emotional body is a critical realm of information that serves life, yours, and affect…

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per each morning the people woke

not to work but to media  __repeating

repeating

motivating guilt movements

to prey upon freedoms

for an ideal

inciting fights

lies made of good virtue

exercised as images of social servitude

abundant in forms of covert self-flagellation

distrusting sides

motivated to divide

by shared private demons

instead of venting palms

down an aisle

the hares spewed

upon public forums

morphing through digital mediums

drawing deeper

relations with our bodies

they moaned

while tapping and swiping fixes

inoculated by the paradoxes

in the lies about the problems

policies on new addictions formed

support groups and a few more than 12 steps

for the self-believed weak

in feeling hollowed

began to follow

and such a snare

we built our own traps

by knowing we rely upon the other

to build ideal worlds, upon real worlds

so while people bickered

wasting days to fight

for the belief in an imaginary

capital that made the Pignoli

weightier than gold

while values are indeed free

hippies already found

unsuccessfully

attempts at escape

no one made it out

sane or unaltered by trances

the dances of verses on

the eloquence of the universe

spun out and around

so on and so on

some bought experience via pills

while beggars and thieves

sat mighty as street buddhas

amongst virtue signals

over the shouts of self-proclaimed

advanced societies

such desires go to burning man

akin to put out their fires within

by minimizing

generative hormones

becoming the other

by forgetting

the soul

ingesting yesterday's ashes

rid feelings of Lack

chasing up their backs

warm bodies grew cold

by the isolation of those

who keeps asking, asking,

ask, ask -

always wanting more

those few

who live

in peace

resigned

to standing firm

a relationship with life

bearing no flinch at those crying: more

beg for more,

a will do

whatever can be reasoned

to shake a little bit

_more

Each day

a day's work in standing

freeing the body from

any detriment of belief

exercising

fewer postures

giving way to other signals

knowing a way

nor better or lesser

standing are for shallows

while sunk depths

are tested by the guts

and an automatic will

to breath

as life says so

do what you so choose

let those go on claiming virtue

sing sirens

and keep driving

feet deeper

in soil

or steps

each all and none

at their own

time

9 February 2018. Oslo, Norway

Mari Amman

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One of the several arguments against Beauty is rooted in the notion Beauty is Subjective. Further still from a face-off or contrarian perspective, Beauty has grown as form of taboo substantiated by cultural standards. Given the hard and narrow push for the acceptance of the abject and the minimising of Beauty’s significance, this Lapin is penned for the remembrance of Emerson’s and Scarry’s writings on Beauty, as a means to widening the cultural production and being just and spiritually fulfilled.

Afferent Beauty, relates to Perceptive Beauty. To state the obvious: people differ in perceptions. Perception is something considered malleable. Where the responsibility is placed, within the individual or the company, brand, or government, often has bodies pointing physically into thin air. The word: society or they or them, is a gesture to the ghost of our time, the spirit to come to terms with. Where did the ideas and perceptions come from aside from someone’s psyche, and who put them there? Beauty can be a remembering for each and every person to have the right to make up their own mind.

Within the different perceptions are intrinsic orientations toward a Beauty that has the capacity to cross lines ascribed as cultural or related to time. The sense of knowing time is not linear or vertical but rather another form of perception yolks in a contingent understanding of mass, velocity, and magnetism. After all, we would have nothing if not bound together by something.

Yet, the time we live in, whether then, now, or to come, relies on the invisible, ideological space present within the performance of speech, posture, apparel and so on. The permission of behavior or creative choices are indicated by the ayudar of the media, technology and: your attention. The tolerance or intolerance of sensual and cognitive choices begs to ask the origins of the thought police. The thought police are the subtle informants of what you are willing to let yourself think or not think. The skrikkelig situated part of this is, it’s at the end of the day: you. You decided to edit your thoughts, believe something whether or not it was substantiated, or in the worst case scenario, be in the presence of pathological liars. Yes, this is all quite scary. Now we are already deep down in the dark burrow, and yet you are in actual safety. The cognitive operative driving the motor of people only works if you let your mind drive your life, or let someone else’s mind dictate yours, or further, allow someone to negate your feelings, suggesting they are not real, and undermine intrinsic trust. So when people say we are living in strange times, they are quite mental times, and the health or unhealthiness of those is a larger formation demanding a reconciling within ourselves and each other.

Social conditioning relative to Beauty has proven to invite experience through a spectrum of safety through danger. Despite differences of physiological, biological, and cultural orientations, a deep well of truth remains when the contrarian mind occupied by the love to propagate danger, whether to personhood, relationships, or ecology is released to welcome the experience of an afferent, and simultaneously mindful and thoughtless, sensual beauty, pointing to an intelligence humans have and even robots seem able to grok their limitations in accessing. Robots or A.I. primarily, and presently access these thigns analytical processes alone with the help of engineers and biochemists; they are at work attempting to mimic your human behavioural biology. If you know anything about neural link or the human genome project, you will find out how far human curiosity is willing to go, and how much that risk is being not only permitted but funded, while currently living human beings face increasing gaps between poverty and what we can call abject wealth. Can those tolerances be considered anything but ugly? Since Beauty of the afferent magnitude requires a nervous system…so far anyway.

This is not a call to wake up, because that call assumes a position you are not awake or dreaming. In terms of consciousness, the unconscious is typically regarded as the body, which animates the nocturnal dream state. The waking state then asks for the unification of the unconscious and conscious.

In all practical, literal, and spiritual senses, people are awake and aware, but may need the time and space to deepen and reflect upon decisions and what they are tacitly permitting or not, and where ideas lead to in the future, as well as space to expand awareness. Blind faith has historically shown detrimental. The use of Beauty can be fouled up such as in, Annihilation, the movie, a prime examples of horrifying beauty, or the type of Beauty cults leading people into dangerous behavior exhibit. This is not the Beauty I want to incite. The kind of Beauty I am interested in incites a nonreactive, nonviolent courage, a Beauty that remains in a wordless space, constant and yet ever subtly changing flow.

Vastly differing subjectivities can appreciate and share visions or phenomena as beautiful. Those experiences of Afferent Beauty run current to concerns for geological empathy in an increasing desire to understand how to healthfully inhabit the earth, and relate as people, man, women, or the increasing number of subjective identities with each other. Without veering into the tricky wicket of politics of any sort, which is the way Beauty becomes mentalised instead of felt or spiritualised, means the mentalisation itself can produce affective states in the body. Psychosomatics as the term suggests, runs deep.

Why all these words for Beauty, being so obvious and felt in experience of thought and appearance? The decline of its presence seems to be doing something to the cognitive and self authoring functions of people. The mass formation compounded by a mix of historical ignorance and performed cognitive function of rewriting history, has created a group pathology. To transform the ugly wetiko of societal narcissism, it seems everyone agrees we have to do something…so what will that be? Beauty of virtues holds together through dominance and power dynamics, is gathered and protected after conflict. Beauty as this requires courage and discernment.

While important to account for diverse people, we have also a duty to remember, a great majority of people regardless of identity increasingly report feeling lost in a vacuous ideological schism. Therefore a felt Beauty holds space for all Vision-Body relationships.

Beauty is what I see through a feeling in my heart, or thereabout from my core radiating a cascade of comfort around my body as if held in an eternal embrace, suggesting the impossibility of being totally alone. This fulfilment through Beauty remains more satisfying when shared. As an old saying goes: joy shared is compounded, sorrows shared are halved. Beauty shared may therefore fuel compassion and love, sparking joy and halving sorrow. This Beauty relies on a willingness to see and reconcile behaviors that harm oneself and those arounds them.

We are relational beings. That gives rise to wonders on why and how Beauty has become such a tumultuous subject within select intellectual frameworks. Beauty as subjective instead of perceptive means an ugly use of life to escape fears of annihilation grown through age within those unreconciled with mortality, or as features of robots seems more celebrated than the imperfections of humans. This relies on examining the object/subject relationship through mental and spiritual frameworks, existing as a ghost demanding increased ability to perceive the multiple layers operating within the complexity of being.

I came to learn, perhaps late, some live in a gamified view of life, placing the driver of the perceived game in a dominance relationship …

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“It could be worse.”

Phrases like this may mean well and prove to be slippery slopes. Meant often in kindness prove to be not very kind, in parallel to the way Self-Help books are psychospiritual, as well as social-economic traps.

Things could be worse, and they can usually also be better. The way things are looked at has a bit to do with where one is situated in life. This makes writing about kindness or cruelty difficult unless there are specific examples.

Due to this, I have increasingly been drawn to find ways to make Le Lapin a safe burrow for dialogue instead of the format of sending out pieces of my website with the thinking process behind the work. Though recently finding use of this email for sharing the results of 14 years of writing, rewritten and formatted over 2 months into 4 books of poetry and photography in Paris…amidst the riots. I came to Substack because I did not want to make a Patreon to create more middle-men taking cuts of the budgets people are already feeling tapped out by the relentless streaming services. I no longer saw it sensible to share hard work on social media, where the general decline of valuation or appreciation for culture making seems most evident.

In that some addictions will drive people to spend whatever it takes, energy or money to get that need filled, social media has proven to appear more masochistic than I had realized at the onset of its use.

I understand I need to accept the dark side of human psychology. Yet I want to ensure I’m contributing ethically and with care to the freedom to choose instead of manipulating the collective subconscious motors driving behaviours found in positivethinking only rhetoric or self-help pretzel logic. The deep tug on a real need for the conscious awareness and reconciliation of those forces makes me realize a dialogue could be fruitful yet who really wants or needs ANOTHER podcast. Would the fact my strange set of weirdnesses and female voice be enough difference from the typical setup I find out there in so called conscious-broadcasting space? or is all this talking avoiding the labor that needs to be done ;)

Social psychology, yet another dark dynamic I dipped my toes further into while studying in Japan became a plunge right into the deep end during art school. While I had considered becoming a psychologist, under the influence of self-help books, I imagined art making would be more illuminating, helpful, and positive. Instead, I ended up getting the education in dark psychology anyway.

So before I hop off the weekly posts here to tend to some new burrows, I wonder if anyone else has noticed how it seems like more people are on drugs. I did not want to be crass or rude. As it turns out, more people are on drugs. That is not to condemn or shame people for their life choices, but rather recognise the challenges in communication created by folks under the influence, and the results this is collectively creating. So while I’ve heard many attest to remembering their wholeness, more commonly referred to as healing these days through drug usage, I’m really not sold on the behavior. Since, as far as I can tell, life is an endless process of making and remaking….so where does that situate the usages of substances with the perception of reality? These questions send me on long walks often, as I tend to see patterns from the past resurfacing. While I very much want to give trust to the higher organizing nature of the cosmos, experience has led me to understand power and responsibility is within each of our hands.

Since there are elements of universality in pain, as Elaine Scarry wrote in depth about in The Body in Pain, The Making and Unmaking of the World, there is this more statistical model in the GSK report here: https://www.gsk.com/media/6351/2020-global-plain-index-report.pdf

Pain is something people clearly seem to be interested in reducing. And yet, are the people promising the reduction of suffering actually delivering that? or are they finding ways to serve the endless void some seem to have for power, dominance, and influence? This article, allegedly from 1987, describes the human suffering index: https://www.washingtonpost.com/archive/lifestyle/wellness/1987/03/17/a-measurement-of-human-suffering/19aee44f-b460-4c8d-9aa3-4c55fbb74a30/

And as made clear here, on this link, global suffering is on the rise, despite the plenty.

Instead of pointing fingers at class, governments, forming cults or new religions, I still wonder if it is too much to ask we realise we have enough space to not agree, and we do not have to force each other to perform behaviours we do not wish to do, or be punished for not following each others’ commands. Which is why I want to share this Podcast my dear friend DiLos sent me the other day:

#13 Thom Knoles - Vedic Perspective on Trauma, Identity, Forgiveness, Karma: From Trauma To Triumph with Wade Robson & James Safechuck

So while people still believe they’re creating imaginary realities from within, reality is a confluence of choices and actions. (Reality is what exists regardless of what we think about it). As it has become clearer what is going on, Le Lapin has to sustain, such as a note carried over by holding a pedal in piano, doesn’t mean it’s over, but that the keys need a rest while other elements are practiced, so that when this melody resumes, the resonance is in alignment for the mission to reduce suffering and increase serene beauty, harmony, and quiet joy. For example this album coming out in August has sounds within it that bring me close to the origin of where my work comes from. I hope you will enjoy it: https://mariamman.net/all-in-twilight/

There is a lot more I had written. I learned Substack has a word count while writing this. But I realize everyone is pressed by time, attention, resources, and so I think I’ll leave things about what is actually kind or what is fake-kind with some advice from my Mom. When I prompted her for guidance, she said to ask myself in situations:

What Good Comes of This?

I often wonder why more people are not up front with their intentions and interests. I have no problem in letting people know I’ve worked really hard to be able to be allowed to make a living, and it is still an everyday labor. Every field comes with its challenges, and there are different challenges for every walk of life.

So even though anything good can become weaponised because we are relational beings: kindness or silence for example, which are usually great, can be cheese in a mouse trap. I have met ultra nice people who turned out to be some of the worst, and some less kind people who turned out to be some the best. These are not matters of taste, but rather matters of pricinples and virtues. So while as awful as the burning in Paris was, it was bewildering and inspiring to see an unwillingness to take comforts and look the other way. I, on the other hand, being of the constitution I am, still tend to prefer the side of a mountain or someplace near the sea where I can enjoy the white noise reminding me of eternity.

This writing and none on this site were generated by A.I. I have wilfully saved your mind from 4,721 words 28,225 characters.

And yes…that is meant to be funny-ish. If you get my drift. I have seen things, but not because I took substances; instead because I made pictures. How I see things has been hard to say how, because regardless of identifying features, the only thing I know I am working to be diligently for are things that were once quite common and are rarer in the gamified reality peoples seem to be playing in. Do you also enjoy playing in what was here before we were? There seems to be a lot for us there.

Walking agains the flow of water proved to be more challenging that it seemed to be.

Somehow analogue film turned out to be more forgiving than my digital camera.

…

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I was told hell can mean luck in some contexts. To be direct with you, Hell is a beautiful place. The train stop sits just outside of Værnes airport in Trøndelag. You don’t have to believe me; you can find out with some map service.

Hell is a train stop in Norway.

And just a stop, you can get off or keep riding. Hell is a sort of creation of our beings, a manifestation of fears. And yet, the peaceful serenity of Norway seems like a hell for many natives, and a heaven for folks such as me.

Peace, some people associated with death, and others freedom. So it’s not the actual concept that proves so hellish really, but the aggregate of associations.

And if you are willing and able to, make it a few stops past Hell anyway, you might find heaven. A place where the worst anchors of history set down roots and were shuffled off, because time and time again proves, nasi means national socialism; and it’s quite dangerous too….perhaps more dangerous than hell.

Photography by Rachel Wolfe, Trondheim, Norway

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The time has arrived to address play with the fullness of sincerity.

Contents

. progeny . proclivity . proclamation . preponderance

Proclamation

to announce

to recognise an initiative

to make an official declaration

STANDING STILL

We are all standing still

Motoring about in BMW’s

Stair masters adorned by climbing servants

belts moving around and around, remain in one place

recycling the past to find something new

Relearning what’s lost through stock options

lost to the deeper desire of innovation

a standing still repeatedly rehearsing

destructive thoughts through isolated egos

twirling circles on wooden dance floors

aiming to reignite some spark

consumed by pieces of promises

in layered cakes

nodding along

this isn’t close to a demonstration

for awhile ago

this could have been seen coming

as the moment draws nearer

in ‘tis bleached out fervour

the bets can still be placed

those who seem shocked in the face

will be stilled in standing

when the flash blasts forever.

A CURE FOR THE LIE

I must be ugly, sad, and dead

Don’t you bother or feign worry

what you ever say

can’t penetrate my head

surrounded by an imaginary helmet

more convinced of itself

than open to truth

yes, that simple

the ego makes itself to be

gave up learning

a long time ago to see

the fatalistic

no point in focusing

apathy wasting through the lost soul

fixated on identity

when there’s so much more good

that exists out there

take my hand and

I’ll lead the to see

outside

the norm

outside what’s now

outside

let’s go play outside.

ISSUED SOLUTION

The magazines, the movies, the stars, woo!

The reality we’re told we need

The happiness we’re fed on the screen

Images we’re told to uphold

Defining our souls-can’t we just let it all go?

Make no definition and redraw the lines

Flip the switch and live a life

Feel time, as it flows

The stupidity drains and creativity grows

Minds compressed become the hearts are repressed

Aching for spontaneity, some passion, then fire?

Is such a shared experience, truly individuality?

Measured in the difference in what Disney taught us

Toys mommy or daddy bought us

We know such spoils of half riddled lives become those

Ranting, raving, releasing the storms

from behind brick walls while preaching

Back to nature and here’s some tabs for your tongue

Discover purity so proclaimed you keep yourself young

Instead of indulging in the richness of maturity

Where are wrinkled aged faces tolerated by society

For the young to see, the whole stays too long

Rarely understanding the depth of meaning

Waiting in the engagement of the whole being

The day to day waits not always for tomorrow

nor the weekend

while tomorrow holds again the possibility for change

yet again the generations are growing closer in and yet

farther out

all the same.

SHOWER

Simply turning the icy handles

Washes the day away

The air was filled with voice speaking scandals

Now forget and let the mind linger astray

Problems causing me to ramble

Vanish when I say

Simply turning the icy handles

Washes the day away.

Warm droplet stealing kisses like vandals

Peace is what the walls convey

My aura now glowing like a candle

Life was meant to be this way

Simply turning the icy handles

Washes the day away.

BLANKET

Shh, hush child, they say it’s the way

Trust the man with his green loaded gun

Fear is the root, so thinking won’t solve the problem

Got to let the truth in

So your glasses will clear

Sit up now-pay attention

Culture programs the way

Feigning options to choose

Until you walk away

and toward the sun

or the other way

toward the night if you choose

and look the other way

it won’t go away

but you can…

Make the best of what’s in the face-up palm

Chew cautiously

They’ll throw in their seeds

Look up, love, and be saved

That is the way

Look around, tremble, turn to a friend

Shh, hush now for everything’s ok

Fore this is the end.

IF ONLY

It only took one match to burn away three years

Snapshots and memories now lakes of ash in the wind

How much freedom gets lost in forgetting?

Those parts of life that felt doomed

were the way

to finding true happiness sooner.

If only, the mind tricks

Were more obvious

I could have become a bit smarter sooner

Perhaps quicker to find instead of seek

That person thought of as I

Was merely conceived by someone else’s mind

Convincing ourselves deceives life

From the truth eyes paid witness

Such pasted upon masks

Make honest moulds of the sick

If only, the time could be taken back

Instead of having wounds to lick.

SOFA POLITICIANS

Pedestrian talk politics

a common commotion

addition to the grind

the sidewalk buckles

we walk

but look the other way

thoughts trapped

by excesses of solitude

streets roamed by hungry ghosts

people living by rules

doing all they can get away with

to enjoy contentment with nothingness

happiness and sadness

grey without judgement

a time ached for holding hands

shoved deep in pockets

lingering, scraping for fulfillment

nervous, sweaty palms

sometimes need a bit of air

for current generation stations

to again become magnetic.

GASLIGHT

After having my head held underwater

these first breaths out from under his spell

I remember being contained within his surface

Bound up by his lies

Until the day I snapped and screamed

those howls eery for all who could hear…

each day forward the home of my body grew stronger

still unable to stand without a cave to be sheltered within

standing at the edge of here just out side the line

saying goodbye

possessed and then awakened

he dispossessed me

when the emotional mess projections

made upon my body

kept coming to surface

the last tears cried for any man other

than within the loss of my clan

such was not unconditional love

but rather a shallow lust which ran dry

as sure as once the pursuit got his prize

slumped into a space now where wounds suffered can heal

he returned to say sorry and ask to come make life with him

again, disoriented I returned to later remember the story

of how he said it was always in my head

and that I never knew the man I married

such lunacy a boy with his illusions

naively I blamed the skeleton in his closet

the truth unearthed behind the body of his lies

he says what’s convenient for him

one moment to the next, a story always changing

I had lost my mind

and life for awhile

so now

I’m grateful

for retaining my soul.

© Mari Amman

Poetry, Prose &Suche VOL IV.

First edition 2023, electronic distribution. Text and Images by Mari Amman.

The poems contained within this volume were drafted circa 2006-2009, in Chicago, USA, and edited during spring 2023 in Paris, France, with the enormous support of The Trélex Residency.

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