posted January 12, 2009 02:07 PM         

Great men, like great ages, are explosives in which a tremendous force is stored up; their precondition is always, historically and physiologically, that for a long time much has been gathered, stored up, saved up, and conserved for them--that there has been no explosion for a long time. Once the tension in the mass becomes too great, then the most accidental stimulas suffices to summon into the world the 'genius,' the 'deed,' the great destiny. What does the environment matter then, or the age, or the 'spirit of the age,' or 'public opinion'!

...Great men are necessary, the age in which they appear is accidental; that they almost always become masters over their age is only because they are stronger, because they are older, because for a longer time much was gathered for them. The relationship between a genius and his age is like that between strong and weak, or between old and young: the age is relatively always much younger, thinner, more immature, less assured, more childish.

...The danger that lies in great men and ages is extraordinary; exhaustion of every kind, sterility, follow in their wake. The great human being is a finale; the great age — the Renaissance, for example — is a finale. The genius, in work and deed, is necessarily a squanderer: that he squanders himself, that is his greatness! The instinct of self-preservation is suspended, as it were: the overpowering pressure of outflowing forces forbids him any such care or caution. People call this "self-sacrifice" and praise his "heroism," his indifference to his own well-being, his devotion to an idea, a great cause, a fatherland: without exception, misunderstandings. He flows out, he overflows, he uses himself up, he does not spare himself — and this is a calamitous involuntary fatality, no less than a river's flooding the land.

...let us think of men so constituted that for one reason or another, they lack public approval and know that they are not felt to be beneficent or useful — that chandala feeling that one is not considered equal, but an outcast, unworthy, contaminating. All men so constituted have a subterranean hue to their thoughts and actions; everything about them becomes paler than in those whose existence is touched by daylight. Yet almost all forms of existence which we consider distinguished today once lived in this half tomblike atmosphere: the scientific character, the artist, the genius, the free spirit, the actor, the merchant, the great discoverer... All innovators of the spirit must for a time bear the pallid and fatal mark of the chandala on their foreheads — not because they are considered that way by others, but because they themselves feel the terrible cleavage which separates them from everything that is customary or reputable. Almost every genius knows, as one stage of his development, the "Catilinarian existence" — a feeling of hatred, revenge, and rebellion against everything which already is, which no longer becomes. Catiline — the form of pre-existence of every Caesar.

posted January 15, 2009 01:10 AM         

Have you read the book "Genius" By James Gleick? It's about Richard Feynman, a quantum physicist.

I don't understand the sentence "at thirty one is, in the sense of high culture, a beginner, a child." Is he saying you are a n00b at 31? Anyone seen Pure Pwnage - the internet show? That's genius

Dean.

------------------
I realized it for the first time in my life:
there is nothing but mystery in the world,
how it hides behind the fabric of our poor,
browbeat days, shining brightly, and we don't even know it.

Sue Monk Kidd, "The Secret Life of Bees", p79

posted March 24, 2009 09:52 PM         

I always liked the idea of attending spirits. I believe in Determinism, and I've used this understanding, with some success, to detach from myself and my work, and to see it all as something "other". Nevertheless, the temptation is always there to internalize it, and despite my efforts at rationalizing, there is something in me which jumps at the opportunity to take credit for the work. I have never been able to take ideas part of the way.. they carry me speedily to their most extreme embodiment, and I often feel I must "jump train" to avoid going over a cliff or slamming into a wall. Determinism is no different. The problem is that, taken to its conclusion, determinism leads to mysticism, -- and the realization that all is God can be very confusing; not only can I take no credit for the inspiration, but, I can't take credit for anything. The implications of this are so widespread and so overwhelming, I am tempted to disengage from the idea altogether. And yet, it has taken possession. This is something I have been caught up in for over a decade now. ... I love what she said about the poet, Ruth Stone's creative process. That was pretty cool. I've never experienced anything like that, but I have often felt like I was "in the zone", and the things I've written durring those times did seem to write themselves. A few times, the poem or whatever it was poured out effortlessly as though it were already written. Also, it happens sometimes when I am writing, that a word which I do not know (or did not consciously know), suddenly suggests itself and later I will look it up and discover it was THE perfect word for the context. This has always seemed strange to me. Often I will go for a long period of time without writing something I am proud of, but all this time I am working out ideas.. and then one day, when all these ideas have matured and are ready, I'll get inspired and something will pour out, and I will see how it touches on all these things I've been thinking about, and weaves them together in ways I never anticipated. This is something like a pregnancy and birth.

Well, those are my immediate thoughts.

Thank you for the video.

posted March 26, 2009 01:51 AM         

Those zones are so blessed and inspiring~~~

posted March 27, 2009 04:04 PM         

I used to mess around with a guitar,
but it fizzled out.

I do go around inventing tunes in my head some days,
and sometimes wish i had a taperecorder, lol.
But words are my passion.

I also wanted to say that, one way I have found to detach from the process,
is to take a pseudonym, which allows me to see it as coming from the "character".

My nom de plume is Valus.
Or, Valerian Silvanus Valus.

I think of it as my daemon and, sometimes, my higher self.

Not everything I say or write (or am) is worthy of Valus.

Sometimes, though, I identify too much with Valus,
and this can result in negative ego inflation.

posted March 27, 2009 11:17 PM         

ok yeah thought you were a musician lol - ur right must be the hair!

posted April 01, 2009 09:53 AM         

It's interesting - your alias doesn't have a compound number, but is an 8. I must say, it's a very cool name! Does have an otherworldly feel. Love the Vs. Have you calculated your LL alias? It's 25 - Discrimination and Analysis, which I think is fitting for your "character" here.

posted April 01, 2009 06:42 PM         

I'll respond more thoroughly later.
I have the prefect quote, but must find it
and take the time to copy it all out.
Its from the Letters of Abelard and Heloise.

This is an interesting read, too:

Saints and Madmen
Psychology Opens It's Doors To Religion

http://www.amazon.com/Saints-Madmen-Psychiatry-Opens-Religion/dp/0805059024

The asylums of today are filled with the saints of yesterday. ~ Valus

______________________________________________________

Psychiatry, once famously opposed to religion, has done an about-face. Like the legendary explorers of a century ago, some psychiatrists have set off into what they see as the last frontier: the spiritual self. In this moving and impeccably researched narrative, Russell Shorto tells remarkable stories of people suffering from what once were deemed spiritual afflictions, then came to be seen as purely medical disorders, and now are being treated as both.

In the process, Shorto brings to bear issues from the cutting edge of consciousness studies. He explores the shared territory of psychosis and mysticism; the changing meaning of "self," "soul," "mind," and "brain"; the theory that psychotropic drugs have a spiritual dimension; the meaning of religious terrorism; and the possibility that addiction and depression are spiritual conditions.

In weaving his case studies into a single story, Shorto delivers a concise update on the science of the mind and the newest efforts to probe the deepest meaning of human existence.

Praise
"Russell Shorto's engaging book is a valuable contribution to the development of...a scientific paradigm for the study of spirituality and mental illness."--Common Boundary

"[A] cogent, absorbing book.... A vivid account of psychiatry's recent interest in 'nonrational' cognitive experience."--Kirkus Reviews

About the Author
Russell Shorto is the author of Gospel Truth: The New Image of Jesus Emerging from Science and History. He has written for GQ, The New Yorker, The Miami Herald, Travel & Leisure, and The New York Times Magazine. He lives in Putnam Valley, New York, with his wife and their two daughters.