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There need to be people


Er moeten mensen zijn
die zonnen aansteken,
voordat de wereld verregent.

Mensen die zomervliegers oplaten
als het ijzig wintert,
en die confetti strooien
tussen de sneeuwvlokken.

Die mensen moeten er zijn.

Er moeten mensen zijn
die aan de uitgang van het kerkhof
ijsjes verkopen,
en op de puinhopen
mondharmonica spelen.

Er moeten mensen zijn,
die op hun stoelen gaan staan,
om sterren op te hangen
in de mist.
Die lente maken
van gevallen bladeren,
en van gevallen schaduw,
licht.

Er moeten mensen zijn,
die ons verwarmen
en die in een wolkeloze hemel
toch in de wolken zijn
zo hoog
ze springen touwtje
langs de regenboog
als iemand heeft gezegd:
kom maar in mijn armen

Bij dat soort mensen wil ik horen
Die op het tuinfeest in de regen BLIJVEN dansen
ook als de muzikanten al naar huis zijn gegaan

Er moeten mensen zijn
die op het grijze asfalt
in grote witte letters
LIEFDE verven
Mensen die namen kerven
in een boom
vol rijpe vruchten
omdat er zoveel anderen zijn
die voor de vlinders vluchten
en stenen gooien
naar het eerste lenteblauw
omdat ze bang zijn
voor de bloemen
en bang zijn voor:
ik hou van jou

Ja,
er moeten mensen zijn
met tranen
als zilveren kralen
die stralen in het donker
en de morgen groeten
als het daglicht binnenkomt
op kousenvoeten

Weet je,
er moeten mensen zijn,
die bellen blazen
en weten van geen tijd
die zich kinderlijk verbazen
over iets wat barst
van mooiigheid
Ze roepen van de daken
dat er liefde is
en wonder
als al die anderen schreeuwen:
alles heeft geen zin
dan blijven zij roepen:
neen, de wereld gaat niet onder
en zij zien in ieder einde
weer een nieuw begin
Zij zijn een beetje clown,
eerst het hart
en dan het verstand
en ze schrijven met hun paraplu
i love you in het zand
omdat ze zo gigantisch
in het leven opgaan
en vallen
en vallen
en vallen
en OPSTAAN

Bij dát soort mensen wil ik horen
die op het tuinfeest in de regen BLIJVEN dansen
ook als de muzikanten al naar huis zijn gegaan
de muziek gaat DOOR
de muziek gaat DOOR
en DOOR

Toon Hermans

there need to be people

There need to be people
that light suns,
before the world rains out.

People who let up summer kites
when it’s freezing winter,
and throw confetti
between the snowflakes.

Those people need to be there.

There need to be people
who stand at the exit of the cemetery
selling icecream,
and on the dumps
play harmonica.

There need to be people,
who stand on their chairs,
to catch the stars
in the mist.

Who make spring
of fallen leaves,
en of fallen shadow,
light.

There must be people,
who warm us
and who in a cloudless sky
are in the clouds
so high
they jump rope
along the rainbow
when someone has said:
come in my arms

Those are the people that I want to belong with

Who KEEP dancing at the garden party
even after all the musicians have gone home

There need to be people
who on the grey asphalt
in great big letters
paint LOVE

People who carve names
into a tree
full of ripe fruit
because there are so many others
who run from butterflies
and throw stones
at the first spring blue
because they are afraid of:
I love you

Yes,
There need to be people
with tears
as silver beads
who are rays in the dark
and welcoming morning
as the daylight comes
on dragging feet

You know,
there need to be people,
who blow bubbles
and have no concept of time
who can have childish wonder
about something that cracks
of beauty

They scream across the rooftops
that there is love
and wonder
when all those others are screaming:
no, the world is ending
and they see in every ending
a new beginning already

They’re a bit of a clown,
heart first
then mind
and they write with their umbrellas
I love you in the sand
because they are so enormously
absorbed in life

and fall
and fall
and fall

and RISE

These are the kind of people I want to belong with
Who KEEP dancing at the garden party
Even after the musicians have gone home

the music goes ON

the music goes ON

and ON

Published on June 6, 2022 at 6:00 by

In which Pooh and Piglet go hunting and nearly catch a woozle

THE Piglet lived in a very grand house in the middle of a beech-tree, and the beech-tree was in the middle of the forest, and the Piglet lived in the middle of the house. Next to his house was a piece of broken board which had: “TRESPASSERS W” on it. When Christopher Robin asked the Piglet what it meant, he said it was his grandfather’s name, and had been in the family for a long time. Christopher Robin said you couldn’t be called Trespassers W, and Piglet said yes, you could, because his grandfather was, and it was short for Trespassers Will, which was short for Trespassers William. And his grandfather had had two names in case he lost one—Trespassers after an uncle, and William after Trespassers.

“I’ve got two names,” said Christopher Robin carelessly.

“Well, there you are, that proves it,” said Piglet.

One fine winter’s day when Piglet was brushing away the snow in front of his house, he happened to look up, and there was Winnie-the-Pooh. Pooh was walking round and round in a circle, thinking of something else, and when Piglet called to him, he just went on walking.

“Hallo!” said Piglet, “what are you doing?”

“Hunting,” said Pooh.

“Hunting what?”

“Tracking something,” said Winnie-the-Pooh very mysteriously.

“Tracking what?” said Piglet, coming closer

“That’s just what I ask myself. I ask myself, What?”

“What do you think you’ll answer?”

“I shall have to wait until I catch up with it,” said Winnie-the-Pooh. “Now, look there.” He pointed to the ground in front of him. “What do you see there?”

“Tracks,” said Piglet. “Paw-marks.” He gave a little squeak of excitement. “Oh, Pooh! Do you think it’s a—a—a Woozle?”

“It may be,” said Pooh. “Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t. You never can tell with paw-marks.”

With these few words he went on tracking, and Piglet, after watching him for a minute or two, ran after him. Winnie-the-Pooh had come to a sudden stop, and was bending over the tracks in a puzzled sort of way.

“What’s the matter?” asked Piglet.

“It’s a very funny thing,” said Bear, “but there seem to be two animals now. This—whatever-it-was—has been joined by another—whatever-it-is—

and the two of them are now proceeding in company. Would you mind coming with me, Piglet, in case they turn out to be Hostile Animals?”

Piglet scratched his ear in a nice sort of way, and said that he had nothing to do until Friday, and would be delighted to come, in case it really was a Woozle.

“You mean, in case it really is two Woozles,” said Winnie-the-Pooh, and Piglet said that anyhow he had nothing to do until Friday. So off they went together.

There was a small spinney of larch trees just here, and it seemed as if the two Woozles, if that is what they were, had been going round this spinney; so round this spinney went Pooh and Piglet after them; Piglet passing the time by telling Pooh what his Grandfather Trespassers W had done to Remove Stiffness after Tracking, and how his Grandfather Trespassers W had suffered in his later years from Shortness of Breath, and other matters of interest, and Pooh wondering what a Grandfather was like, and if perhaps this was Two Grandfathers they were after now, and, if so, whether he would be allowed to take one home and keep it, and what Christopher Robin would say. And still the tracks went on in front of them….

Suddenly Winnie-the-Pooh stopped, and pointed excitedly in front of him. “Look!”

“What?” said Piglet, with a jump. And then, to show that he hadn’t been frightened, he jumped up and down once or twice more in an exercising sort of way.

“The tracks!” said Pooh. “A third animal has joined the other two!” “Pooh!” cried Piglet “Do you think it is another Woozle?”

“No,” said Pooh, “because it makes different marks. It is either Two Woozles and one, as it might be, Wizzle, or Two, as it might be, Wizzles and one, if so it is, Woozle. Let us continue to follow them.”

So they went on, feeling just a little anxious now, in case the three animals in front of them were of Hostile Intent. And Piglet wished very much that his Grandfather T. W. were there, instead of elsewhere, and Pooh thought how nice it would be if they met Christopher Robin suddenly but quite accidentally, and only because he liked Christopher Robin so much. And then, all of a sudden, Winnie-the-Pooh stopped again, and licked the tip of his nose in a cooling manner, for he was feeling more hot and anxious than ever in his life before. There were four animals in front of them!

“Do you see, Piglet? Look at their tracks! Three, as it were, Woozles, and one, as it was, Wizzle. Another Woozle has joined them!”

And so it seemed to be. There were the tracks; crossing over each other here, getting muddled up with each other there; but, quite plainly every now and then, the tracks of four sets of paws.

“I think,” said Piglet, when he had licked the tip of his nose too, and found that it brought very little comfort, “I think that I have just remembered something. I have just remembered something that I forgot to do yesterday and sha’n’t be able to do to-morrow. So I suppose I really ought to go back and do it now.”

“We’ll do it this afternoon, and I’ll come with you,” said Pooh.

“It isn’t the sort of thing you can do in the afternoon,” said Piglet quickly. “It’s a very particular morning thing, that has to be done in the morning, and, if possible, between the hours of What would you say the time was?”

“About twelve,” said Winnie-the-Pooh, looking at the sun.

“Between, as I was saying, the hours of twelve and twelve five. So, really, dear old Pooh, if you’ll excuse me—What’s that.”

Pooh looked up at the sky, and then, as he heard the whistle again, he looked up into the branches of a big oak-tree, and then he saw a friend of his.

“It’s Christopher Robin,” he said.

“Ah, then you’ll be all right,” said Piglet.

“You’ll be quite safe with him. Good-bye,” and he trotted off home as quickly as he could, very glad to be Out of All Danger again.

Christopher Robin came slowly down his tree.

“Silly old Bear,” he said, “what were you doing? First you went round the spinney twice by yourself, and then Piglet ran after you and you went round again together, and then you were just going round a fourth time”

“Wait a moment,” said Winnie-the-Pooh, holding up his paw.

He sat down and thought, in the most thoughtful way he could think. Then he fitted his paw into one of the Tracks …and then he scratched his nose twice, and stood up.

“Yes,” said Winnie-the-Pooh.

“I see now,” said Winnie-the-Pooh.

“I have been Foolish and Deluded,” said he, “and I am a Bear of no Brain at All.”

“You’re the Best Bear in All the World,” said Christopher Robin soothingly.

“Am I?” said Pooh hopefully. And then he brightened up suddenly.

“Anyhow,” he said, “it is nearly Luncheon Time.”

So he went home for it.

Source: Winnie-the-Pooh, Chapter 3, IN WHICH POOH AND PIGLET GO HUNTING AND NEARLY CATCH A WOOZLE

Published on May 27, 2022 at 6:00 by

An Oath of Dogs

We all want to be unique. We cleave to the tiny things that define us as individuals. We rejoice in everything that marks us as beings different from all others, delighting in our free will. I believe that is what allows us to bring wrongdoing into the world.
from Meditations on the Meaning of Evil,
by MW Willams

Source: page 123, An Oath of Dogs, written by Wendy N Wagner

Published on May 12, 2022 at 6:00 by

Waiting (Nourishment)

5. Hsü / Waiting (Nourishment)

above K’AN THE ABYSMAL, WATER
below CH’IEN THE CREATIVE, HEAVEN

All beings have need of nourishment from above. But the gift of food comes in its own time, and for this one must wait. This hexagram shows the clouds in the heavens, giving rain to refresh all that grows and to provide mankind with food and drink. The rain will come in its own time. We cannot make it come; we have to wait for it. The idea of waiting is further suggested by the attributes of the two trigrams–strength within, danger in from. Strength in the face of danger does not plunge ahead but bides its time, whereas weakness in the face of danger grows agitated and has not the patience to wait.

THE JUDGMENT

WAITING. If you are sincere,
You have light and success.
Perseverance brings good fortune.
It furthers one to cross the great water.

Waiting is not mere empty hoping. It has the inner certainty of reaching the goal. Such certainty alone gives that light which leads to success. This leads to the perseverance that brings good fortune and bestows power to cross the great water. One is faced with a danger that has to be overcome. Weakness and impatience can do nothing. Only a strong man can stand up to his fate, for his inner security enables him to endure to the end. This strength shows itself in uncompromising truthfulness [with himself]. It is only when we have the courage to face things exactly as they are, without any sort of self-deception or illusion, that a light will develop out of events, by which the path to success may be recognized. This recognition must be followed by resolute and persevering action. For only the man who goes to meet his fate resolutely is equipped to deal with it adequately. Then he will be able to cross the great water–that is to say, he will be capable of making the necessary decision and of surmounting the danger.

THE IMAGE

Clouds rise up to heaven:
The image of WAITING.
Thus the superior man eats and drinks,
Is joyous and of good cheer.

When clouds rise in the sky, it is a sign that it will rain. There is nothing to do but to wait until after the rain falls. It is the same in life when destiny is at work. We should not worry and seek to shape the future by interfering in things before the time is ripe. We should quietly fortify the body with food and drink and the mind with gladness and good cheer. Fate comes when it will, and thus we are ready.

Published on May 11, 2022 at 6:00 by

The Second Coming

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

The Second Coming written by William Butler Yeats in 1919

Published on April 28, 2022 at 6:00 by

81. Telling it true

True words aren’t charming,
charming words aren’t true.
Good people aren’t contentious,
contentious people aren’t good.
People who know aren’t learned,
learned people don’t know.

Wise souls don’t hoard;
the more they do for others the more they have,
the more they give the richer they are.
The Way of heaven profits without destroying.
Doing without outdoing
is the Way of the wise.

The next little country might be so close
the people could hear cocks crowing
and dogs barking there,
but they’d get old and die
without ever having been there.

Source: Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzu
Translated by Ursula K. Le Guin

Published on April 7, 2022 at 6:00 by

17. Acting simply

True leaders
are hardly known to their followers.
Next after them are the leaders
the people know and admire;
after them, those they fear;
after them, those they despise.

To give no trust
is to get no trust.

When the work’s done right,
with no fuss or boasting,
ordinary people say,
Oh, we did it.1

1 This invisible leader, who gets things done in such a way that people think they did it all themselves, isn’t one who manipulates others from behind the scenes; just the opposite. Again, it’s a matter of “doing without doing”: uncompetitive, unworried, trustful accomplishment, power that is not force. An example or analogy might be a very good teacher, or the truest voice in a group of singers.

Source: Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzu
Translated by Ursula K. Le Guin

Published on March 31, 2022 at 6:00 by

Rejection

Yesterday i walked back from the supermarket to home. Some talking to friends, standing in the door opening of a house, asked me a question. I don’t even remember what he said. I replied something, along the line that it made no sense what he was saying. It was a quick reply. At the same time i wondred why he asked me that. I wasn’t part of the conversation, i was simply walking by. While i was walking away they started laughing. I looked back. It hurt me a bit. I felt like they were sharing some secret. Back home i thought about what i was asked. Then i thought sex. Of course.

I cried while i saw this video. It spoke to me while i was watching it for the first time. I do feel rejected. I am still looking for something worthwhile to say. Something which will resonate. I hope i can find it.

The second time i cried today was while reading this book Ultimate Questions. I went back and tried to find the piece which caused these emotions with me, but couldn’t find it. So i photographed another part. It is about being alone, communicate with others, feeling desperate when you do not communicate with anybody. Mostly.

Published on March 29, 2022 at 6:00 by

Ultimate Questions

Yesterday i went to the library. I did do a search through the catalogue with the words time and philosophy.

I got three books: The Dark Forest written by Cixin Liu, De tijd bestaat niet (Time doesn’t exist) written by Roland Breeur, Ultieme Vragen (Ultimate Questions) by Bryan Magee.

I started reading the book by Bryan Magee. A small philosophy of life and death. I only read the first chapter about time and space. Some parts are simple, but the end results are puzzling for sure. I do enjoy reading it.

On page 17 there is the following text from Macbeth:

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more.

Macbeth V, 5

Published on March 24, 2022 at 6:00 by