Imagination

imagination [ih-maj-uh-ney-shuh n]

noun
1. the faculty of imagining, or of forming mental images or concepts of what is not actually present to the senses.
2. the action or process of forming such images or concepts.
3. the faculty of producing ideal creations consistent with reality, as in literature, as distinct from the power of creating illustrative or decorative imagery.
Compare fancy (def 2).
4. the product of imagining; a conception or mental creation, often a baseless or fanciful one.
5. ability to face and resolve difficulties; resourcefulness: a job that requires imagination.
6. Psychology. the power of reproducing images stored in the memory under the suggestion of associated images (reproductive imagination) or of recombining former experiences in the creation of new images directed at a specific goal or aiding in the solution of problems (creative imagination)
7. (in Kantian epistemology) synthesis of data from the sensory manifold into objects by means of the categories.

RVA All Day

How and why are these guys so cool? Can I know them in real life please? I'd be so happy to be friends with brass musicians! Watch this video and get ready to fall in love with No BS! Brass Band.

14th Dalai Lama

"Our prime purpose in this life is to help others. And if you can't help them, at least don't hurt them." ― 14th Dalai Lama

The 14th Dalai Lama is the manifestation of kindness, strength, perseverance and wisdom. Thank you for continually inspiring people to be better, kinder, wiser. His teachings should make anyone want to live a better life without self destruction, instead with inner peace, confidence and self respect. He is the symbol of altruism. Be kind. Be a good neighbor. Be a nice human being.

If anyone in this universe has the right answer, it's the Dalai Lama.

http://freetibet.org/
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10 Questions for the Dalai Lama

Air

I'm listening to Air, which reminds me of Arlene Shechet's ceramic and glass sculptures about breath: air moving and air frozen in time and space. Breathing keeps us alive. We're alive. We exist. What is existence? How old is the universe? How did the universe begin? We're made of particles, stardust... What are we? What is the meaning of life? Rambling ideas and thoughts. Alone. Together. Life. Death. Love. Memories. Adventures. Explore. Learn. Give back. Be kind. Rewind. Move forward.

I don't want my life to flash by. I don't want 23 years to go by without me really living in the moment, which reminds me of Interstellar and About Time. I want to seize time. I want to hold onto time, because time is precious. It's melting away and I want it back. It's slipping through my fingers. I want to go forward, whilst holding time in the palm of my hand. Balance time. Cherish time. Enjoy time. Infinite time. Don't be scared of time.

These ramblings are my genuine and spontaneous thoughts. I truly wonder and wonder about existence on a metaphysical level, an astronomical level. Relativity. Quantum mechanics. What does this all mean? Microscopic. Subatomic. Particles. Under the surface. Under the microscope. Through the lens of a telescope. What, where are the answers? Above us, in the sky? Below us, underground? Are we just a part of an elaborate dream? Or is this reality? My ramblings seem confused.

Confusion and understanding. Learning from confusion. Understanding the truth of life. When will we learn the truth? Feeling restless. Anxious and eager to understand. To find universal truth of life. To understand the human condition. I can't breathe. Need to slow down my mind. Take a deep breath. Seizing this moment and freezing it in time and space. Breathing. Being. Existing. Existing with a sense of purpose. Love every second before it's over. Don't end.

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite. #whyislifeworthliving

I Have Dreamed Of You So Much

I have dreamed of you so much that you are no longer real.
Is there still time for me to reach your breathing body, to kiss your mouth and make
your dear voice come alive again?

I have dreamed of you so much that my arms, grown used to being crossed on my
chest as I hugged your shadow, would perhaps not bend to the shape of your body.
For faced with the real form of what has haunted me and governed me for so many
days and years, I would surely become a shadow. 

O scales of feeling. 

I have dreamed of you so much that surely there is no more time for me to wake up.
I sleep on my feet prey to all the forms of life and love, and you, the only one who
counts for me today, I can no more touch your face and lips than touch the lips and
face of some passerby. 

I have dreamed of you so much, have walked so much, talked so much, slept so much
with your phantom, that perhaps the only thing left for me is to become a phantom
among phantoms, a shadow a hundred times more shadow than the shadow the
moves and goes on moving, brightly, over the sundial of your life. 

I Have Dreamed Of You So Much by Robert Desnos