Tim Horn :: Greetings From Asbury Park

Photographs by Tim Horn

theme from a dream

Artwork by Ruby Ray

J. Krishnamurti said—

OF THE MANY things we might talk over together, one of the most obvious and important is about why we do not change. We may change a little bit, here and there, in patches, but why do we not fundamentally change our whole way of behaviour, our way of life, our daily nature? Technologically the world about us is advancing with extraordinary speed, while inwardly we remain more or less the same as we have been for centuries upon centuries.

Caught as we are in this trap – and it is a dreadful trap – one wonders why we don’t break through, why we remain heavy and stupid, empty, shallow-minded, superficial and rather dull. Is it because we do not know ourselves? Leaving aside the ideas of the various specialists, with their peculiar assertions and dogmas, we see that we have never really investigated ourselves, gone into ourselves deeply to find out what we actually are.

Is that the reason why we do not change? Or is it that one has not got the energy? Or because we are bored – not only with ourselves but also with the world, a world which has very little to offer except motor cars, bigger bathrooms and all the rest of it? So we are bored outwardly and, probably, also with ourselves because we are caught in the trap and don’t know how to get out of it. It is also likely that we are very lazy. Furthermore, in knowing ourselves there is no profit, no reward at the end of it, whereas most of us are conditioned by the profit-motive.

These, then, may be some of the reasons why we do not change. We know what the trap is, we know what life is, and yet we go trudging along monotonously and wearily until we die. That seems to be our lot. And yet, is it so difficult to go into ourselves very deeply and transform ourselves? I wonder if one has ever looked at oneself, known oneself? From ancient times this has been reiterated over and over again: “Know thyself”. In India it was postulated, the ancient Greeks repeated the advice, while modern philosophers are also attempting to say it, complicated only by their jargon and their theories.

Can one know oneself – not only at the conscious level but also at the deeper, secret levels of the mind? Without self-knowledge, surely, one has no basis for any real, serious action, no foundation upon which to build clearly. If one doesn’t know oneself, one lives such a superficial life. You may be very clever, you may know all the books in the world and be able to quote from them, but if you do not know yourself, how can you go beyond the superficial? Is it possible to know oneself so completely that, in the very observation of that total self, there is a release?

As human beings, I think we should be able to find out what death is while still living; and also what love is, because that is part of our life, our daily living. Can we inquire into ourselves without any fear or bias, without any formula or conclusion, to find out what we are?

Such an inquiry demands freedom. One cannot inquire into oneself, or into the universe of which one is a part, unless there is freedom – freedom from hypotheses, theories and conclusions, freedom from bias. Moreover, to inquire one needs a sharp mind, a mind that has been made sensitive. But the mind is not sensitive if there is any form of bias, thus rendering it incapable of any real inquiry into this whole structure of the self.

So let us go into this question together, not only through verbal communication but also non-verbally, which is much more exciting and which demands a much greater energy of attention. When one is free to inquire, one has the energy. One has not got the energy, the drive, the necessary intensity, when one has already reached a conclusion, a formula. So, for the time being, can we put away all our formulas, conclusions and biases about ourselves – what we are, what we should and should not be and all the rest of it – put these aside and actually observe?

Psychic Friends Network

Photograph by Eric Johnson

oOo

male privilege

So it happens like this. I get off the train and cross the platform and I’m typing on my Blackberry. Lists. Everything is This. I am on escapades and I didn’t smoke no weed so I got energy. Gotta burn it off so I set my brain on whirl & I’ve got all these ideas, all these pieces of the pie, flavor for days like Baskin Robbins, say I heard they got this peanut butta cup number so umm ..

What I’m talkinn bout? Ohh right. Train station, I’m doing that annoying thing, typing while walking along. But I do it all the time and don’t think nothing of it so I’m kinda surprised when this guy steps to me talking about, When you got off the train you lit up this place. It’s your walk.

And he talks but real low and I do not move forward. Hell I don’t even put the phone down. I’m looking at the screen trying to type thinking he’ll walk away but he don’t and he keep talkinn but low like I miss half of it til finally he just say, Can I leave my business card with you?

I’m not available.

Ohh you got a special man in your life?

But on the real, can you look a man in the eye and say, No. Thas just cruel so you smile and look at them like, Bye?

Guys never think it’s them. Male privilege.

i want candy ~

lilac sky

Refreshed and awake,
I am quietly nudged,
and sweetly reminded of who I am.
—Rumi

ten sixteen

ten o’clock in the garden of nineteenth

~*~

failure is the key to all my success.
i fail at everything and if i don’t fail
i wasn’t trying hard enough.

the return

Casa Signorina Rosita at Villa Lina, photograph by Stacey Keith

The farm was beautiful. Fields of pears and grapes and olives and kiwis and hazelnuts and cypress trees and Roman pines and fresh dew in the grass every morning and a universe of stars in the sky at night. And burly herding dogs with luscious coats of thick white fur that adopted me into their pack and took me on a private tour, leading me all the way up to the northernmost point so we could lull in the grass, them chewing tall blades and me, body gold in the sun. And a lazy morning doing laundry in the sink and hanging it on the line to dry, wearing a lil tank top and jean skirt and no shoes, thinking I could live this life. Italy, this is me. It’s so slow and unhurried and about beauty and love and sex and food and pleasure and poetry and to hear Dante in Italian, I am thinking I will learn the language for my next trip ..

It was cold and wet in the mornings then bright shiny sun and blue skies and bees buzzing and birds chirping and the sounds of pen against paper because there were no computers. Just (wo)man as nature designed.

gonn with tha floww ~

i heard from Mr. Brown
he’s in Prague
and his words and his vibe and his smile
and him sayinn YES
(in capital letters all big and mmm yeaa)
reminds me of what i came here to do

so i am out
peace see ya lata
one day, some day, it is meant to be

~*~

the heart is the yardstick

revelations 8.28

~*~

~*~

press PLAY

(i love your smile)

~ tha kang ~

to die before dying