Body is the record keeper of all emotionally charged experiences. It dictates to the mind how to process reality in terms of the past. If we don't like the way it feels, we've got to stop being present in body and move up to the head
To be objective about any subject we have to state facts which are equally evident to everyone, regardless of their convictions. However, when it's about politics, narratives are taken for facts. "This dude from this TV station said this, and I believe him -- so to me, it's a fact"
Born European -- forever a European.
Mental habituation is just like physical one, as we stick to our inner environment even if it's unpleasant.
For a soul refreshment it's good to revisit our childhood.
We can start curing something only after a full realization that a cure is in order.
Optimists have dreams, pessimists have nightmares -- while facts of living are not suggesting either of the two positions, only mentally arming one for a success, and the other for a failure.
Imagine a perfectly tuned instrument in hands of someone who can't play it properly. Couldn't that be ourselves getting on our own nerves with the "music" we create in life, unwilling to learn how to play our perfect instrument properly? Imagine whole mankind as such an "orchestra".
At first glance it may be difficult to tell them apart, but someone's devotion usually inspires us for an applause, and insanity makes us feel sorry for the person.
Many popular lines of logical thinking representing our "common sense" could be challenged with something being equally logical. The evil of drug cartels is one of them.
According to psycho-cybernetics, we are goal-oriented mechanisms, interpreting our thoughts as instructions for action. How much does it mean a painful idling, because there is nothing in our thoughts that we can do?
We all admire that soft, angelic aura around kids, actually so much that some of us may try to create their own image suggesting those qualities -- which we tend to call "innocent". But, are kids really innocent or merely still ignorant about their not so holy potential?
This is the age of some huge changes -- most of which only used to belong to the realm of science fiction. So, as much as cultivating a new self may feel like a "mission impossible" -- how do you know if you don't give it a try?
In our hearts' inventory we sometimes can't find an ability to update the way we love, so just because it doesn't feel like that horny version, we replace it with marital diplomacy.
Never to be mistaken for diagnosed depressives, whiners just ask for attention which they couldn't get otherwise.
Like beating around the bush, we do everything in life to feel good that doesn't work -- except just practicing to feel good.
Assessing our personal value we may be more impressed with what our weak sides -- well, we shouldn't.
Laughing has its famous value, but being able to also trigger it is a true virtue, if not something like a talent.
Since we don't only have our biological individuality, but also psychological, there is no "one-fit-all" approach. It becomes amusing, though, when we see the available and confusing options.
Life is a school where we learn to love -- or we don't.
We can't feel confident unless we befriend ourselves.
A little illustration of how our bitter dilemmas can get resolved
Everybody believes in something -- some don't believe in believing but knowing -- guessing being allowed.
They say: "In Wine Is Truth" -- but maybe just a drunk-like, over-relaxed mood could qualify as well.
Our social image normally dictates that we always appear at our best, or close to it. Well, some of us pick days when we just don't care what we look like or sound like -- and it feels good.
Just like faith without deeds -- knowledge without application is dead.
Habitually torn between so many things to do we accomplish nothing except headaches and stiff necks.
Philosophers are burning brain's fuses over defining happiness, while it's nothing but a mental skill we practice -- or we don't.
We are not even familiar with most of our body processes, but we fancy to know so much about that huge place called world. Why not leave it alone and just enjoy life.
Despite our preferences, world insists on variety, and all kinds of us are only making it complete.
Mind can work like opiate -- if we would only care to use it that way.
It's the one about unavoidable change -- including ourselves.
It's a poem about our personality falsehood parading as the most popular game on earth.
National Divide Sucks
Satirizing politics is simply fun.
A ode to awakened appreciation for innate ability to enjoy life.
When mind idles, it may hit upon some really odd questions, and this poem is an example of it.
The craziest paradox in human behavior is in our feverish fussing over what we see as collective issues -- not realizing that the negative fashion of doing it is just perpetuating the same crap over and over.
A romantic story.
"Grass always looks greener on the other side" -- says a lot about humans never being satisfied, which means an illusion of a "white looking whiter on some imaginary side". It's a bull...like the poem will try to make it clear.
There is a thin line between humanistic views and those pertaining to political circus. Then it takes someone knowing enough about the satirizing author to see the difference.
Maintenance of an artificial military tension and illusory threats seem to be the tool of presenting NATO's purpose as realistic.
Political lies could even be forgiven if they didn't result with so many lives being lost with no gain whatsoever.
Sciences like epigenetics, neuroimmunology, (body-)quantum mechanics, and cellular biology are providing a clear answer to the "secret" of aging. So, why people are not using it? Because of mental laziness barrier. We just love our "comfort zone" loaded with stresses.
Life is providing so many metaphors and analogies, so here is one about living as compared to our being a driver.
At the end of the day, it's up to us to either feel pissed or outrageously happy.
People are just too quick finding something wrong about others -- and my satires are saying a lot about it. So, from time to time, it's good to balance it a little with a sentiment from heart for the little bunch of strangers who have displayed all attributes of some dear friends.
A wakeful meditation -- if you haven't been there, no one can describe it, but sharing makes it O.K.
Too often people are identified by their leaders, as if carrying their personality or political attributes. Two administrations may be totally opposite, while people stay only people.
We get so quick to publicize all wrongdoings targeting our national interests -- whatever that may involve -- completely mute about what we are doing around the world. That's where something like "fairness" becomes a joke.
Historically man has had his species' priorities all messed up, making life more comfortable -- while himself staying stuck at a primitive range of emotionality.
Every anti-abortionist may want to think again when another senseless war swallows so many young lives -- because a profit/advantage-driven administration has announced a sudden discount on the value of human life.
We don't have to sacrifice our happiness while seeing all anomalies in the world -- so ruthlessly served to us by the news media. World has to keep growing and maturing, and if it doesn't provide role models, at least it teaches us how we don't have to be.
The happier I am, the more I see out of whack this world dominated by clowns parading as some alpha-in-the-pack-freaks, as well as medical and religious dogma imposing limits on our true essence and potential.
The more we are aware of time, the more it drags us down. Why not just live in eternal now.
If we would prefer a uniform society, why not start by weeding out all idiots, because they do more damage than any skin color.
With budding trees and grass turning to its greener hue, this wish comes to say "hi" to strangers in street -- and to those whose eyes just might drift into our simple greeting rhyme.
The whole paradigm we are living by could easily be one big piece of fiction, with untold number of other possible interpretations, solutions, beliefs, ideologies -- and especially the story of the mankind's past which we have been taking for true.
I appreciate all my friends for their own unique qualities, and this poem is about one who has made me laugh many times.
For all those emotional issues not requiring a professional attention -- why not try to put our foot down and retrain our emotional body with sheer free will.
It doesn't take a notorious pacifist of my kind to say how in this 21st century wars are a shame of the mankind, shaming all our otherwise great cultural achievements.
Maybe for sake of variety, we, writers, sometimes tend to spread ourselves too thin while honestly caring only about what we truly like to write about.
Expressing ourselves through poetry we may shun from revealing where all that is coming from, while letting reader do some reading between lines. Well, not always, as the poem is attempting to reveal.
People have become so proficient at lying that many can't tell the difference if they say truth or not. It's like brain's function of believing can attach itself to just about anything.
It's a paradox, that on one hand we are writing for our readers, but in all honesty we are only expressing ourselves, writing for ourselves, and only as they choose to read it -- it turns out it was "for them".
When going gets tough not everyone gets going, and many of us could attest to that. May this poem's words give a little boost if anyone may need it.
We thought that only lunatics talk to themselves while expecting others to hear. But that was before this new and modernized era of running governmental affairs.
In slang vocabulary, peanuts are synonymous with little money, but elephants and mice don't get attracted to that synonym -- for that we have a garden variety of smart online writers.
There is such a thing as collective comfort zone, where everything in the society is more or less predictable. Well, there are those who, at least inside, see big benefits of going against the grain. One is writing this poem.
Our self-image becomes pretty messed up when we use different people as our mirrors.
We curse and blame -- and otherwise get on our own nerves.
We all tend to admire those rich overachievers, oftentimes not without at least a dash of envy -- but, is all that really a ticket to a happy life?
Meditation is sinking into one's essence, most closely described as an ultimate sense of personal freedom from our life's story. The poem is depicting the author's experience of it each early morning.
We couldn't breathe enough yesterday to keep us alive today, and we can't hold our breath till tomorrow to wake up alive.
It's possible to believe in that higher intelligence without following any religious teaching. It's a humble belief, without any claims to "know" where merely "believing" dominates.
When it's about promises we give to ourselves -- we are really good at that -- even became proficient after a long practice of making same ones.
Love matures with us, but so often that means its fading away.
When knowing and doing have little to do with each other, then we have the picture of this world as the result
A little poetic note to those few who have bothered to take a peek at my poetizing.
Many centenarians smoke and enjoy their wine and eat below nutritional standards --but maintain a jolly heart, and that's their "elixir of youth".
We are masters of avoidance --always looking in wrong direction when trying to find the right way.
From depth of our body cells to galaxies above -- everything is in the constant change. Insisting on sameness means life stagnation.
There is this unhealthy need in so many to persistently tell others what they "should", meddling with their free choices.
The basic hope of the mankind is not so much in advancing to new heights of evolution -- as it it in not repeating the stupidities of the past. --V. Karas
Over many decades Che Guevara's legacy of a Communist revolutionary has faded into an international symbol of a desired change, not political but often personal.
The "how-to" genre dominating in materialistically-oriented public dates far back into the cultural history, when some geniuses at art re-qualified themselves into inventors. This poem is about one of them.
Seeing a nervous yappy dog in the park full of people reminded of global phobia of strangers -- which somehow gave inspiration for this poem.
Someone said: "Mind is an obedient servant -- but a cruel master". It obeys us only to the extent that it sees how it has no choice but. However, to get to that point of obedience it first has to be tamed by an unstoppable spirit.
They say: "We are as alive as we are alive in others' hearts". But the truth is that no other heart can give us what we refuse to give ourselves. So we end up being mental beggars.
While many people behave like monkeys, there are some perfectionist monkeys with an ambition to behave like people --- at least according to this poem.
Why "life sucks" for so many folks, even as they live normally by all usual standards? It's like there is an inner "Spoiler" built into their personality makeup. Let's find out.
As the poem is trying to reveal, satire is not necessarily just a mocking form of disagreement with something.
"Nothing has a suchness until we give it one" -- words of the poet's essay at his age of sixteen.
If, hypothetically, we were never told about our ethnic importance, we would all feel like citizens of the mankind.
Sometimes we express what we feel, but deep down know that words sound so different between lips and ears.
In my satires I never hold any punches -- only after having used myself a lot as a sparring partner. This poem is a little example of it.
Well, it does happen, you know.
Sharing a blissful moment with anyone in mood to join.
When it's about happiness, like with anything in life -- there is an easier and a harder way to it -- and we are mostly in a position to choose.
Man used to create marvels of unrepeatable architectural and free willed feats. Then dark ages of dogma, politics, and medicine happened to us. And they are still happening.
If a hypothetical WW3 was guaranteed to be fought with conventional weapons only, by now there would be none of us around.
An ode to my biggest friend, also called wife.
Napoleon Bonaparte said: "History is a tale told by a madman". In quite few details -- maybe by a liar as well.
Our collective awareness is more unreliable in connecting us than we think -- and whether we like it or not, it's our own mind giving a meaning to what is "real".
With some people, fighting for love is more appealing than possessing it.
Anybody passionately watching team sports never realizes how their interest in politics boils down to nothing different.
Politicians may represent people, but they are far from being a true reflection of the people's natural charm and the beauty of their country.
This poem is a response to someone's article somehow dignifying a very unlikely connection between God, Guns, and Guts.
A scary percentage of all mind's contents is based on someone else's thoughts, directives -- well, suggestions. Do we ever think anything that's not merely a copy? And if we don't, why bother mentioning free will and freedom?
Just like the Big Pharma and Medical Establishment shy away from natural avenues of healing, deep pocket elite won't explore alternative, potentially healthier ways of governing.
A drive for power above everybody seems to be a dream historically pursued. All aspirants have fallen, and will keep falling, for, after every dream there is moment of awakening.
Whenever we place a magnifying glass on a map, we create a disproportion of magnified part in relation to the rest of the map. More often than not, we do the same in international politics.
It's not just a theory anymore but a proven fact that genes in our cells instantly react to our mood, so changing the level of our vitality.
Any satire may be turned around at the author, if his objective observing gets mistaken for the same that's being satirized.
Like anything in our perceptual field, rain can, by association and its effects, arise different memories and thoughts.
Most people are far from realizing how actually crucial for life is a healthy and well nourished set of nerves.
There hasn't been a single administration that benefited everyone by allowing all to enjoy the abundant national resources.
Our comfort zone may not be all that comfortable, but prospects of leaving it are too scary not to forgive its downsides.
Deep down people are much more different than they realize. It's only that the most get brainwashed into a "common mentality" -- whereas some odd ones intuitively stay genuinely different. This poem is about one of them --myself.
"In fear are big eyes" -- says the proverb, and yes, when scared we are bound to believe whatever we are told is out there.
In so many ways driving a car resembles our life habits and our style of interaction with others.
"When you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail". And when a poet is in humorous mood, any word can trigger a humorous poem.
If I tell you how silly it is, you won't read it
In this world an antidote to lie is not truth, but a counter-lie. As the poem reveals -- satirical or not -- truth is many a time a big "no-no".
We tend to forget that all patterns of our experiencing used to be original, and that we still have that ability to create new ways of experiencing out of the thin air.
It's not necessarily the strength of one that makes him a winner -- but weakness of another. And all deceptive attempts of government and media would be a public laughing stock if people didn't get so easily emotionally hooked on their game of lies and deception.
Since "human zoo" would be too harsh a metaphor -- even though at times quite applicable -- how about seeing ourselves as those lovely, noisy, musical, whatever rain forest birds. At least we sound like them, while mostly yapping a lot and saying so little.
Since no administration -- no matter what they called themselves -- ever actualized national prosperity which would be suggested by the country's rich resources, what's politics really good for, except for careerists to fulfill their life dream.
It's about a top shelf self-healing proven scientifically and in practice to create some miraculous, even quick results -- but, are we up to it? Will our precious vulnerable ego allow its dethroning?
"Shrinkology" is primarily an interpretive art, not an exact science; thus the "artist" should stop sounding like scientist, and first aim at "sculpturing" their own image of mental health, before attempting to treat others.
We tend to think that a disaster would befall us if we lost from sight all annoying things of life. But, would it be worth just one day experiment to find out?
Someone said: "Law is the cobweb catching small flies and being torn by big ones"
Copycats of a free speaker are not speaking freely, they are just speaking.
Some wild life experts say that animals -- birds included -- may display affection to certain people. People must have heard of snake whisperers and there are others. Well, this one is about, possibly an imaginary, bond with a hawk.
Would Jesus have approved of being always symbolically shown as suffering on cross?
No good change happens of itself, and happiness is just another mental skill to be mastered.
"An unexamined life is not worth living", and people's most passionate collective games -- when not examined -- are a sad waste of life's available time, no matter how dignified they may seem.
Political reality is not what we wish it to be -- so our wishful thinking is the reason why we can never call ourselves realistic.
We don't get easily defined by either smartness or a lack of it ---our truth is somewhere in between.
So much about both, Easter and Vatican, is so much taken for a given, but here and there come people with provocative questions about the hypothetical connection between them two.
What's behind this religious fascination about a promised salvation with a heavenly afterlife.
To some folks the Holy Bible has an explanation for everything. To others, it raises more questions than answers, and this is one of those questions.
Frequency and severity of anxiety is in a reverse proportion to our acquired knack of taking it lightly.
It certainly sounds like a simplification, but on subtle energetic levels the frequencies of love may accomplish more than any other treatment.
It's strange how something may have to pass first to be more appreciated.
Falling in love may cost us peace of mind, jealousy, adapting, freedom, hobbies, friends...etc--oh yes, sometimes also money.
Words can say more than we meant, or make us miserably misunderstood. At all other times we think we are communicating.
It's shockingly true that people are merely imitating their past, as if finding a comfort zone in security of a routine, without a change which may feel disturbing, no matter how positive..
I have said it at a few other places -- we become what we have practiced. And when we practice feeling lousy, at one point it becomes an addiction.
It's the science of future, but known enough to reveal the incredible connection between a blissfully propelled, pure consciousness and a realm where spontaneous healing takes place.
It may sound humorous but it's true that our only knowledge about life shows at home.
If freedom is supposed to bring peace of mind, then America has from ever been doing something wrong with her freedom.
After being told what to live for and die for, we also had to be told when to laugh.
Most of the people are merely acting out their subconscious old programs, or their automatic, spontaneous nature. To them being intentional means a threat to the "old ways".
Each day we only have so much nervous energy at our disposal. When we waste it on crappy excesses, our capacity to enjoy life is compromised big time.
When it is more important "who" is right than "what" is right, conversation loses any sense.
A nostalgic view at revisiting the past that was so different, not better than present, but enriching it.
We all know what they are like -- it's a little harder to know who they are.
Whether it's a compulsion or a dear hobby, but writing may be that single ingredient to make writer's day meaningful.
Writing controversial stuff is avoided by many -- while some others almost insist on it
We win our battles with blown up but vulnerable ego -- one at a time.
Some people think about past in terms of regrets -- yet others are embracing those crazy times that could, with a different mind-frame, contain enough reasons for regrets.
Psychiatric records must be filled with cases of patients resenting the story of anything being wrong with them.
You can't find a happy, well balanced person that will indulge in political ranting. It's always those dissatisfied with their lives projecting it on the political arena where they can blame somebody else for their misery.
With politics so little left to know about, and so much to merely believe, this widespread breed of believers are still convinced that they actually know something.
Technological advancement seems to be the opiate making us blind to our stupidity, ever evolving side by side with technical smartness.
Everything vibrates, and our trip to groups of folks with very different vibes usually turns a treacherous venture.
Maybe this global pandemic of hate will find its cure one day. But in this meantime, let's get more aware of it.
Whether we contend that life stinks, or that life is a magic journey filled with miracles -- we are both correct and lying. But one of these alternatives is more life-promoting.
Looking at what sells the best on culture market, one has to be shocked at the high value of anything that has to involve one or another aspect of violence.
The ratio of views and comments just makes one wonder -- and laugh.
Really, what will be the value of all our life's worrying on our last day on earth?
Undoubtedly, it may take different kinds of mentality to write material in a spirit of a satire. So it's good for a satiric to identify his own.
Our primitive part of brain is an anatomical fact. And we may not recognize it at work in some of our dignified traits.
There is no poetry without that special feeling of freedom inside.
Living unconsciously -- the message of the song many didn't understand.
Since much information is a sheer depressing crap, maybe we are using Internet for a wrong gain.
"As you sow - so shall you reap" -- or something sounding like this.
Cry and everyone cries with you; laugh and you laugh alone.
Choosing between intuition and limiting experience makes in life the whole difference where we end up.
Surely a question that every poet is facing at one time or another, is --- Who am I reaching with my poetry, and are all others of so different taste from mine?
At which point it's not about a leader with some strong arguments, but rather about a multitude of suggestible minds?
Cultivating a blissful state results with healing of body, mind, and spirit.
Going selective about what enters the eyes
No socio-political system is without flaws, and it is just helping us to focus on its good sides -- while not realizing how some of it may be based on illusions
Our mind, our biggest blessing and curse, making us and breaking us.
Are we trying to confuse believing for knowing?
How far can our freedoms go before they become detrimental to culture
One of the ways a poet may experience the internet people
It's a dilemma thrown at us by the health establishment and leaving us confused - and we opt for that easier one to follow out of mental laziness, where a minimum of effort is expected of us.
If we own free will, then there is no higher ultimate authority that ours; and if we are divine puppets, we are not responsible for expressing will that's not free. Then what is our sin? - V.K.
Somewhere between blind optimism and rebellious pessimism there is hope--that we know what we are doing, if not where we are going.
Being something between a friend and an acquaintance to someone confuses our friendly heart--not without a hurt.
Just one look at the global political arena should be enough to realize how inept are those that we proudly elect to lead us
It all stems from our mind--our DNA expression and health, interpretation of our 5 sensory inputs, the whole reality, ultimately a virtual one.
It takes a courage to step out of ourselves and see the world as if for the first time
Depicting the political toxic environment in metaphoric comparison with concept of hell
Atrial fibrillation (a-fib) is an extremely common heart condition. If your diagnosis includes "lone", or "idiopathic", i.e. of an unknown cause, maybe you can stop it the way I did it. Keep reading to find out how.
Sometimes there is a strange gap in the causality within the process of someone's maturing--when nothing can explain a sudden string of changes. They call it quantum leap.
From a crack of pavement a daisy may sprout, and in this materialistic environment there is always a crack for a romantic to thrive in