Author Archives: beykex

Alan W. Watts: On dreaming and our very existence

“Let’s suppose that you were able, every night, to dream any dream you wanted to dream, and you would, naturally, as you began on this adventure of dreams, you would fulfill all your wishes. You would have every kind of pleasure during your sleep, and after several nights you would say «well, that was pretty great». But now let’s, uhm, let’s have a surprise, let’s have a dream which isn’t under control. Well, something is gonna happen to me that I don’t know what it’s gonna be. Then you would get more and more adventurous and you would make further and further out gambles as to what you would dream and, finally, you would dream where you are now.

If you awaken from this illusion and you understand that black implies white, self implies other, life implies death. You can feel yourself, not as a stranger in the world, not as something here on probation, not as something that has arrived here by fluke, but you can begin to feel your own existence as absolutely fundamental. What you are basically, deep, deep down, far, far in, is simply the fabric and structure of existence itself.”

― Alan W. Watts.

log

Prior days:
It’s been a long while since I met a person like you.

Day 6:
I am finding troubles at believing you are real and everything is happening is real.

Day 13:
It’s becoming louder and louder a voice within me acknowledging how amazing all of your things are.

Day 20:
I’m surprised I was not aware of how many reasons and things were pointing this out.

Day 28:
I ask myself where were you this whole time.

Day 34:
I’ve noticed everything being so natural with you is the reason why I haven’t noticed until now.

Day 44:
I keep wondering to whom, or what, do I have to ask permission to allow myself to experience all of it anew.

Day 61:
The more time passes the more that urge for answers fades away.

Day 63:
I’m starting to realize how cherised were the memories I held for your past self from back then.

Day 79:
I’m starting to notice your essence in all the strings that hold the world together.

Day 80:
I am beginning to see tomorrow in a different colour.

Day 99:
I can hear the heartbeat. It is starting again.

Galerías, Soledades y otros (I)

LXVII

Si yo fuera un poeta
galante, cantaría
a vuestros ojos un cantar tan puro
como en el mármol blanco el agua limpia.
Y en una estrofa de agua
todo el cantar sería:
“Ya sé que no responden a mis ojos,
que ven y no preguntan cuando miran,
los vuestros claros, vuestros ojos tienen
la buena luz tranquila,
la buena luz del mundo en flor, que he visto
desde los brazos de mi madre un día”.

Antonio Machado: Galerías. 1907-1910.  Fuente.

At night times

I remember you at times,
on the riverstream that brings
day to day little things
swinging away on the curls and ripples
of time,
of dead hours after noons,
of little whiles dozing off as the summer breathes breezes.

And I can handle, it’s okay,
it is true
that the smallest of all men
even them get through times
when hope seems lost and nothing left is undone.

I can handle that. I can handle it always.
Always, but when
I remember you at night times.