Death of Raymond Visan - Buddha Bar - RIP

RIP

In memory of Raymond Visan - Buddha Bar

Almost unknown in Romania, but very popular in the world, especially in France, Raymond Visan died days ago in New York of a heart attack at age 60. Romanian-born millionaire, who was one of the fashionable world of Paris, is the man who invented the concept of Buddha Bar, compilations of music, plus other ideas, being known and appreciated in the whole world.

Buddha Bar announced its intention to enter the Romanian market by offering the right of franchise of Buddha Bar Spa. Plans were laid for the opening for Romania this year.

Moartea lui Raymond Visan

Here you can read the story  - Raymond Visan who invented Buddha Bar and his plans aimed at developing its business in a country home:
Raymond Visan


Al-pha X - Best of Buddha Bar extras vol.8
 

4th of July - Independence Day

.........
We're all living in America,
Amerika, Amerika.
When I'm dancing,
I want to lead,
even if you all are spinning alone,
let's exercise a little control.
I'll show you how it's done right.
We form a nice round (circle),
freedom is playing on all the fiddles,
music is coming out of the White House,
and near Paris stands Mickey Mouse.

We're all living in America...
......
I know steps that are very useful,
and I'll protect you from missteps,
and anyone who doesn't want
to dance in the end,
just doesn't know that he has to dance!
We form a nice round (circle)
I'll show you the right direction,
to Africa goes Santa Claus,
and near Paris stands Mickey Mouse.
.......

We're all living in America,
Coca-Cola, sometimes WAR,
We're all living in America,
Amerika, Amerika.
.......

This is not a love song,
this is not a love song.

Dust in the Wind

Weekend

Once Upon a Time - Empty Places Series

Departe , dincolo de zidul spart, cerul mult prea albastru face cu ochiul…
Fără povești, fără amintiri, fără trecut, ferestrele goale așteaptă vântul de primăvara , ploaia și nimic altceva….
Ingropată pe undeva, cutia de fier îndesată cu vise ruginește în așteptarea unui alt proprietar….
Căsuța noastră nu mai există.
Doar zidurile și iarba.

Spring Thoughts - Spring Series

Morning light

I feel the sun

.... and just how fragile my world is...

spring alone...

COOLPHOTOBLOGS

The Painted Bird - Kosinski

Pentru o clipă păsările erau confuze. Pasărea vopsită zbura de la un capăt al stolului la celălalt, încercând în zadar să-şi convingă rudele că era unul de-al lor. Însă orbite de culorile strălucitoare, păsările se învârteau în jurul ei nehotărâte. Pasărea vopsită era împinsă din ce în ce mai departe pe măsură ce aceasta încerca zeloasă să intre în rândurile stolului. Curând după aceasta, una după alta, păsările o atacau sălbatic smulgându-i penele.

For the moment the birds were confused. Painted bird fly from one end of the flock to another, trying in vain to convince his relatives that he was one of them. But blinded by bright colors, birds revolves around her indefinite. Painted bird was pushed ever further as it tries to enter the ranks flock. Soon thereafter, one after another, one attacking wild birds pulling feathers.

Jerzy Kosinski/ The Painted Bird

tags: the moral metabolism of society, man fears , persecuted children, War World II, individual liberty, Holocaust, extreme violence

Va recomand : Jerzy Kosinski - Pasarea Vopsita

The Sea & The Dream

9 am/ Sunday/ February 28

So you dream.
Untouched by the grounding consciousness.
A vast road stretches forth, merging into infinity.
You take a few tentative steps, and take off—towards the sky, scaling a new horizon.
"I have been dreaming of flying for so many years now,"
"It's amazing, this freedom."
Would a fish dream of running?
Would an eagle dream of swimming?
"Why should human beings dream of flying?"
"It could be a latent potential. There is so much that we don't understand."
................
But it all unfolds. A vision here, a glimpse there.
The ocean of love waiting to flow over.
The pain, the anger.
The joy, the ecstasy. The subtle footsteps of dreams sound in the corridors of mind like a half-forgotten echo—a sadness akin to joy in its intensity.

Lotus Haiku

Like rain drops

on lotus leaves...

Friendships are

So fragile,

even whispers

Disintegrate them.

Terra Amata - J.M.G. Le Clézio

The world was too alive, you couldn't defeat it.

Space had too much space, time too many seconds, days, weeks, milennia.

You could no longer do anything to understand.

You could no longer meet the frightening gaze of the absolute. (...)

You had to dive head-first into vertigo and work, love, hate, suffer, be happy, kill, give birth because there was nothing else to do.

J.M.G. Le Clézio: Terra Amata

The Art of Dreaming

Lipscani-Bucharest

Am visat că venisem în vizită în oraşul meu natal.

Nu pen­tru că ora­şul pe care‑l visam ar fi semănat câtuşi de puţin cu oraşul meu natal, ci pentru că, aveam cumva convingerea că acesta era locul unde mă născu­sem.

Totul a început ca un vis obişnuit, şi totuşi cu un aer foarte real.
Apoi lumina din vis s‑a schimbat. Imaginile au devenit mai clare.

Strada pe care mergeam a devenit în mod perceptibil mai reală decât cu o clipă înainte. Au început să mă doară picioarele. Puteam simţi că lucrurile erau absurd de tari. De exemplu, atunci când m‑am lovit de o uşă, nu numai că am simţit durere în genunchiul la care m‑am lovit, dar m‑am şi înfuriat din cauza neîndemânării mele.

Am umblat în modul cel mai realist prin acel oraş până când am fost total epuizat. Am văzut tot ce aş fi putut vedea, dacă aş fi fost un turist care se plimbă pe străzile unui oraş. Şi nu era nici o diferenţă între plim­barea din vis şi orice plimbare pe care am făcut‑o vreodată pe străzile unui oraş pe care‑l vizitam pentru prima dată.
— Cred că ai mers puţin cam prea departe, a spus don Juan după ce mi‑a ascultat relatarea. Ceea ce ţi se solicita era să devii conştient că a­dormi. Ceea ce ai făcut este echivalent cu a dărâma un zid doar pentru a strivi un ţânţar care stă pe el.
— Vrei să spui, don Juan, că am făcut o gafă?
— Nu. Dar este evident că încerci să repeţi ceva ce ai mai făcut înain­te. Atunci când am produs translarea punctului tău de asamblare, iar noi doi am ajuns în acel misterios oraş, tu nu dormeai. Visai, dar nu dormeai, adică punctul tău de asamblare nu ajunsese în poziţia respectivă printr‑un vis obişnuit. Eu l‑am forţat să se deplaseze. Desigur că poţi să ajungi în aceeaşi poziţie prin vis, dar nu te‑aş sfătui să faci asta în acest stadiu.

— Este periculos?
— Şi încă ce periculos! Visatul trebuie făcut cu multă seriozi­tate. Nu ne putem permite nici o mişcare greşită. Visatul este un proces de conşti­entizare, de dobândire a controlului. Atenţia visatului trebuie antrenată sistematic, pentru că ea este portiţa către cea de a doua atenţie.

— Care este diferenţa dintre atenţia visatului şi cea de a doua atenţie?
— Cea de a doua atenţie este ca un ocean, iar atenţia visatu­lui este ca un fluviu ce se varsă în el. Cea de a doua atenţie este starea de a fi conşti­ent de lumi în totalitatea întregului lor — totalitate a întregului la fel cum lumea noastră este o totalitate a întregului — pe când atenţia visatului este starea de a fi conştient de elementele din visele noastre.

— Visele reprezintă — dacă nu o uşiţă — o ferestruică spre alte lumi, a spus el pentru început. Astfel că visele sunt o şosea cu două sensuri. Con­ştiinţa noastră trece prin acea ferestruică în alte domenii, iar acele do­menii îşi trimit cercetaşii în visele noastre.

ARTA VISATULUI / CARLOS CASTANEDA
http://www.scribd.com/doc/2252355/ARTA-VISATULUI-de-CARLOS-CASTANEDA

2010 -YEAR of the TIGER- haiku

2010 -YEAR of the TIGER

frozen lake in my heart

on its mirror

the reflection

of a tiger

all white

Time

space-time

the unit of space and time

It is like GOOD and EVIL, YING and YANG or a pair of lovers.

One cannot be present alone by itself.

The two are connected causally together.

If one of them is cancelled , then the existence of the other one end up as well.

If only one person of a pair of lovers is present,

then the lovers do not exist any longer and the persons also not;

( because it is no part of a lover more - by definition - a pair is made of two).

The same applies to the space-time as well.

If no area exists, then no time can pass as well.

Is there no time available, the area is not an area, since no motion can take place without passing of the time.

It would be a frozen something without time - but it would not be an area.

Principle of special relativity theory (of 1905)

Principle of general relativity theory (of 1915)
PRINCIPLES of the ART and SRT
Principle 1 and 2 always happen together.

1. Principle of the special relativity theory:

Moving clocks go more slowly than resting clocks ( Timedilatation) 1. Principle of the general relativity theory:

Under the effect of the gravity, clocks go more slowly than in the resting state 2. Principle of the special relativity theory:

Moving objects shrink
2. Principle of the general relativity theory:

Moved objects shrink under effect of the gravity Length contraction 3. Principle of the special relativity theory:

The mass is not constant. The mass of moving bodies grows. (not the number of atoms) relativistic mass increase 4. Principle of special relativity theory:

The speed of light is always the same, whether the observer stands still or is in motion.

(Einstein theory/ www.kinkel-bischem.de)

Francis of Assisi

oil colors, carved wood,
(45x65) cm

"For it is in giving that we receive."

Giovanni Francesco di Bernardone (Francis of Assisi); 1181/1182 – October 3, 1226

angkor wat / cambodgia/ kampukeea/ drawings

....desenez zambetul.... desi nu l-am vazut niciodata....
....ma intreb cati din cei care au fost acolo l-au inteles....

ink / pencils / ball pen / canvas

angkor wat/ drawings

O serie noua de obsesii... statuile din Angkor....si templele...

Nu o sa ajung acolo niciodata, dar fotografiile de aici :

http://tarantule-romania.ro/forum/viewtopic.php?f=25&t=1010

ma influenteaza mult...

....prin fostele temple ale zeilor umbla paianjenii si serpii...

... cum se naste surasul iradiant si luminos pe sutele de statui din Angkor?....

nu e un suras fiziologic...nici un muschi al fetei , al buzelor nu il provoaca....surasul vine de undeva, dinlauntru....

angkor wat/ drawings

A vision last night before sleep: Leaves and leaves and leaves, leaves curling like shadows, awareness floating through, dream-like in chiaroscuro, golden-brown, parting darkness; emerging, but still into jungle, like roots over stones/crumbled buildings. Where am I? Angkor? I see jungle, no buildings. Still moving, I can't get beyond. I stand at an edge of giant formations, twisted, obscured by my vision. Dim light glows from the horizon. It might even be dawn but, though faint, the light's too bright for dawn in the north. Does tropical dawn come up brilliant? Is it candlelight? A billion flickering candles rimming earth's edge. I open my eyes again. You are not here, you are nowhere...I am awake, without fear. I feel I could have visions often, if I wanted, if I waited quietly for them. I question its meaning. Was it a prophecy, a remembrance, another life -- or just the meaninglessbeauty of living?

ink / pencils / ball pen / canvas

angkor wat/ drawings

"O Devayani,
classical art is
unnatural,
unentertaining,
non-instructional,
burdensome,
irreligious,
lifeless,
soundless,
airless,
smell-less,
motionless,
undramatic,
unpoetic,
austere,
square,
moral,
disciplined,
traditional/formal,
colorless,
dark,
noble,
hieratic,
symmetrical
repetitious,
invisible,
complete,
rational,
conscious
clear."

So said Ad Reinhardt while living in New York City and writing
about Khmer Sculpture in 196l in a booklet published by Asia House.

Therefore, obviously, classical art is needlepoint, stitching one hole at a time,
endlessly,
soundlessly,
effortlessly, mathematically, meditationally, with purity of heart, prior to the
jungle's re-invasion.

ink / pencils / ball pen / canvas

B/W

La multi ani

I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon,
at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love,
ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love,
beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

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