“You have first of all to side with your own spirit, and your own taste. Then take the time, and have the courage, to express all your thoughts on the subject at hand (not just keeping the expressions that seem brilliant or distinctive). Finally you have to say everything simply, not striving for charm, but conviction.”  Francis Ponge

By Francis Ponge


An armchair is a bourgeois throne; at the same time, it is the exact opposite of the throne, since it doesn’t imply any hieratism for the person that occupies it. It is a comfortable chair, we can even claim it as the most comfortable, a chair approaching sofa or bed. We sink, we ease into it to relax or recover our strength. This piece of furniture comes closest to the arms of mother or a wet nurse. It is a place ideal for someone overwhelmed by drowsiness, a place where we can remain half-asleep or simply sleep in a sitting position, or daydream. In any event, an armchair is associated with a secondary state, the one between the sitting and lying down, a position particularly conducive to receptive meditation.


When pulled by the cord, the boat appears to shift its weight form one foot to the other, tugging, as if it were a nervous and stubborn colt. However, what we have in front of us is but a rude receptacle very similar to a handle-less spoon. The concave and curvilinear shape is supposed to help us pilot; yet the first impression maybe different: this vehicle appears to have a mind of its own. The rocking movement mimics our hand gesturing uncertainty, so-so. But, as we slowly venture on a ride, the boat becomes submissive and easy to handle; and if this horse ever turns restive, there has to be a valid reason. Nevertheless, left to its own devices, the thing will inevitably follow the water currents to some kind of fatal end, just like a blade of straw.

Savoring the good even if it is as humble as a beautifully knitted pair of socks  

 ODE TO MY SOCKS by Pablo Neruda

‘Maru Mori brought me a pair of socks which she knitted with her own sheepherder hands, two socks as soft as rabbits.    I slipped my feet into them as if they were two cases knitted with threads of twilight and the pelt of sheep…..’

 Read the whole poem at: http://www.kariberit.net/files/Ode-to-my-socks.pdf

Spring cleaning

Over the weekend I allotted a little time to do some spring cleaning, and also tried to fit in other activities, and so I did not have time to create the audio I had intended to make. I even got round to doing a little weeding in the garden, some throwing out of old articles, recycling of a few books, and I also went to the cinema because I like stories. Actually, I think I am a sucker for a good story. We watched an interesting multi themed film, The Professor and the Madman starring Mel Gibson and Sean Penn, with some powerful acting and scenes.

I also took some time to reflect on politics and spirituality because…..

Even though I have distanced myself from party politics over the years, I still think that politics are important because from one perspective everything, including the private is political. Our personal experience and larger socio-political structures are interconnected and interdependent more than we are usually aware of. Local and national elections are approaching, and so I reflected on both the necessity to vote and what a ‘good enough’ vote decision for the better good both locally and nationally could look like. If power is also diffuse, embodied, discursive and enacted rather than just concentrated and possessed by some, the act of voting allows for some level of exercising power and shaping the ways of things.

Early spiritual wounding and cultural conditioning and my awakening process required I explore this field, a processing, healing and expanding through exposure experience, but I sort of went down a rabbit hole, as I over indulged in acquiring information, while neglecting other things. The lesson learnt is that I still tend to ignore the dash board of my body., often brushing aside bodily knowledge and intuitive knowing, which are always available.