Some truths can only be stated in hidden ways

WARNING:  Do not stare at these images for longer than 5 minutes.  Staring at one for 15 minutes will change your color perception for several months.  This may make you curious, but please DON'T DO IT. See the McCollough Effect for more information.

Human perception is fragile and all-too-flexible because of the way neural connections work, mainly their speed and the velocity of any (and every) neural network's rate of change.


As we live in rigidly structured societies, with thousands of clear and unbreakable rules that cannot be ignored (e.g., get naked in public and see what happens!  No, I'm kidding....please don't!), there are some basic human truths, truths of nature, that can barely be stated and, when they are expressed, they must be hidden deep within metaphors.  The following is a clear example:

(For mobile users who cannot see the video embedded above, please click https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVegpypXN1I)

"Know Thyself" was inscribed at the forecourt of the Temple of Apollo at Delphi.  Visitors to Delphi looking for advice from their Oracle, the greatest oracle that has ever existed, would find this message along their way.  I strongly urge you to follow it ---  Know yourself!

A little known fact about the Oracle of Delphi (which sheds light into the reality of psychics) is that visitors to it were made to wait for days before they finally entered to hear the advice they were seeking.  The visitors almost always left the Oracle baffled, perplexed, and astounded by the quality of the advice they received. What they didn't know is that the Oracle of Delphi would send out scouts immediately when a person arrived to gather as much information as they possibly could about that person.  There was nothing magical about the psychics at all.  It was their due diligence and long training and experience that made the Oracle of Delphi the most sacred and most influential oracle that has ever existed.


In the words of Walt Whitman:

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.


Published in Leaves of Grass, Final "Deathbed Edition", 1892.

The transmutation of the human spirit, by Friedrich Nietzsche

From Thus Spake Zarathustra, "The Three Metamorphoses"

Three metamorphoses of the spirit do I designate to you: how the spirit
becometh a camel, the camel a lion, and the lion at last a child.

Many heavy things are there for the spirit, the strong load-bearing
spirit in which reverence dwelleth: for the heavy and the heaviest
longeth its strength.

What is heavy? so asketh the load-bearing spirit; then kneeleth it down
like the camel, and wanteth to be well laden.

What is the heaviest thing, ye heroes? asketh the load-bearing spirit,
that I may take it upon me and rejoice in my strength.

Is it not this: To humiliate oneself in order to mortify one's pride? To
exhibit one's folly in order to mock at one's wisdom?

Or is it this: To desert our cause when it celebrateth its triumph? To
ascend high mountains to tempt the tempter?

Or is it this: To feed on the acorns and grass of knowledge, and for the
sake of truth to suffer hunger of soul?

Or is it this: To be sick and dismiss comforters, and make friends of
the deaf, who never hear thy requests?

Or is it this: To go into foul water when it is the water of truth, and
not disclaim cold frogs and hot toads?

Or is it this: To love those who despise us, and give one's hand to the
phantom when it is going to frighten us?

All these heaviest things the load-bearing spirit taketh upon itself:
and like the camel, which, when laden, hasteneth into the wilderness, so
hasteneth the spirit into its wilderness.

But in the loneliest wilderness happeneth the second metamorphosis: here
the spirit becometh a lion; freedom will it capture, and lordship in its
own wilderness.

Its last Lord it here seeketh: hostile will it be to him, and to its
last God; for victory will it struggle with the great dragon.

What is the great dragon which the spirit is no longer inclined to call
Lord and God? "Thou-shalt," is the great dragon called. But the spirit
of the lion saith, "I will."

"Thou-shalt," lieth in its path, sparkling with gold--a scale-covered
beast; and on every scale glittereth golden, "Thou shalt!"

The values of a thousand years glitter on those scales, and
thus speaketh the mightiest of all dragons: "All the values of
things--glitter on me.

All values have already been created, and all created values--do I
represent. Verily, there shall be no 'I will' any more. Thus speaketh
the dragon.

My brethren, wherefore is there need of the lion in the spirit? Why
sufficeth not the beast of burden, which renounceth and is reverent?

To create new values--that, even the lion cannot yet accomplish: but to
create itself freedom for new creating--that can the might of the lion
do.

To create itself freedom, and give a holy Nay even unto duty: for that,
my brethren, there is need of the lion.

To assume the right to new values--that is the most formidable
assumption for a load-bearing and reverent spirit. Verily, unto such a
spirit it is preying, and the work of a beast of prey.

As its holiest, it once loved "Thou-shalt": now is it forced to find
illusion and arbitrariness even in the holiest things, that it may
capture freedom from its love: the lion is needed for this capture.

But tell me, my brethren, what the child can do, which even the lion
could not do? Why hath the preying lion still to become a child?

Innocence is the child, and forgetfulness, a new beginning, a game, a
self-rolling wheel, a first movement, a holy Yea.

Aye, for the game of creating, my brethren, there is needed a holy Yea
unto life: ITS OWN will, willeth now the spirit; HIS OWN world winneth
the world's outcast.

Three metamorphoses of the spirit have I designated to you: how the
spirit became a camel, the camel a lion, and the lion at last a child.--

Thus spake Zarathustra. And at that time he abode in the town which is
called The Pied Cow.

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Ressentiment in the Present Age, by Søren Kierkegaard

Yawp and Whisper

by Javier Simonpietri


Vulnerable winds caress so mountain ranges whisper
despite owned waterfalls’ foreboded screaming
which resounding yawps engorge
to bleed farther toward tomorrow—
whispers are forgiven every chastised every,
with emblems searching every furrow.

Even if surmise, hardy branches tremble,
but growing seeds become,
discover, rising tall with pride,
happily repent and swear:
screams are sometimes worth more than whispers,
yet whispers yearn all dawns the same.

(Notwithstanding any I eternally encaged)
Never more lovely is spring than autumn;
fungi bore yet warlords weep;
everything is forever suspect and still
never more spritely is autumn than spring.

Just when (and true is) replaceable,
lump-sum comfort remains entertains,
seldom tastier than senses amiable,
or waking love, or living possibly ending,
or even an awe-striking random be.

Drink and sing, you wherever soul, a toast
in a lone prayer for the complacent undying:
All rejoice! The world’s colors are mine and yours.
It’s true that never more lovely is spring than autumn.
Sown seeds become though hardy branches tremble
yet both still feel pleasure, unlike whispers;
and never more spritely is autumn than spring,
since growing is whispering unlike screams.