A place called Heaven

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How strange and wonderful is our home, our earth, with its swirling vaporous atmosphere, its flowing and frozen liquids, its trembling plants, its creeping, crawling, climbing creatures, the croaking things with wings that hang on rocks and soar through fog, the furry grass, the scaly seas. To see our world as a space traveler might see it, for the first time, through Venusian eyes or Martian antennae, how utterly rich and wild it would seem, how far beyond the power of the craziest, spaced-out, acid-headed imagination, even a god’s, even God’s, to conjure up from nothing. Yet some among us have the nerve, the insolence, the brass, the gall to whine about the limitations of our earthbound fate and yearn for some more perfect world beyond the sky. We are none of us good enough for the sweet earth we have, and yet we dream of heaven.


The Language of Silence



The problem with modern man is that we have forgotten the language of silence, we have forgotten the way of the heart. We have completely forgotten that there is a life which can be lived through the heart. We are too much hung up in the head, and because we are too much in the head we cannot make any sense out of love. It becomes more and more problematic.

Threaded Souls

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sculptures by Odani Motohiko

a few pieces by renowned Japanese artist Odani Motohiko known for his hauntingly beautiful sculptures. You can check out his Phantoms of Asia: Contemporary Awakens the Past exhibition at the Asian Art Museum in San Francisco