Matrix Love Quotes

Vulnerability is the least celebrated emotion in our society

My only grudge against nature was that I could not turn my Lolita inside out and apply voracious lips to her young matrix, her unknown heart, her nacreous liver, the sea-grapes of her lungs, her comely twin kidneys.

Study yourself. Become your own mentor and best friend. When you are suffering stay at the bottom until you find out who you are. Let the storms come and pass. How you walk through the fire says a lot about you. Nobody likes a victimhood mentality and what happened to you is not important. It is about how you use your chaos that matters. The dawn will come

I don't trust anybody who isn't a little bit neurotic

Drama does not just walk into our lives. Either we create it, invite it, or associate with it.

I take it as a compliment when somebody calls me crazy. I would be offended if I was one of the sheeple, one of the sleepwalkers in the matrix or part of the collective hallucination we call 'normal

You settle for less, you get less.

Our society shuns people for being a bright light in the world. Sometimes if you are too futuristic people do not like how revolutionary you are

Life is a useless passion, an exciting journey of a mammal in survival mode. Each day is a miracle, a blessing unexplored and the more you immerse yourself in light, the less you will feel the darkness. There is more to life than nothingness. And cynicism. And nihilism. And selfishness. And glorious isolation. Be selfish with yourself, but live your life through your immortal acts, acts that engrain your legacy onto humanity. Transcend your fears and follow yourself into the void instead of letting yourself get eaten up by entropy and decay. Freedom is being yourself without permission. Be soft and leave a lasting impression on everybody you meet

Give someone everything you can think of, the wings to fly and the roots to stay. If they chose none of these hold the door open for them with a smile

I am a habitual rule-breaker

I have been at war with parts of myself for so long

You are not always right. It’s not always about being right. The best thing you can offer others is understanding. Being an active listener is about more than just listening, it is about reciprocating and being receptive to somebody else. Everybody has woes. Nobody is safe from pain. However, we all suffer in different ways. So learn to adapt to each person, know your audience and reserve yourself for people who have earned the depths of you

Everyone's life changes when they meet their Obi-Wan & their Yoda, or their Morpheus & their Oracle; those who help remove the veil.

Your fear of becoming a cliche is what turns you into one. If you remove the fear, we are all really walking contradictions, hypocrites and paradoxical cliches

In the deeps are the violence and terror of which psychology has warned us. But if you ride these monsters deeper down, if you drop with them farther over the world's rim, you find what our sciences cannot locate or name, the substrate, the ocean or matrix or ether which buoys the rest, which gives goodness its power for good, and evil its power for evil, the unified field: our complex and inexplicable caring for each other, and for our life together here. This is given. It is not learned.

The 'medium' is unaware of its attractiveness, that's all. Everyone loves comics. I've proven this to my own satisfaction by handing them out to acountants, insurance brokers, hairdressers, mothers of children, black belts, pop stars, taxi drivers, painters, lesbians, doctors etc. etc. The X-Files, Buffy, the Matrix, X-Men - mainstream culture is not what it once was when science fiction and comics fans huddled in cellars like Gnostic Christians dodging the Romans. We should come up into the light soon before we suffocate.

Love is the synthesis of dream and actuality; love is the only matrix of the unprecedented; love is the tree which buds lovers like roses.

A child is a Soul, a Unit Consciousness materialized on Earth to learn, fulfill its purpose contributing within the Matrix of Gaia. Our parents fought for ‘Expression of Thoughts’, ‘Equality’, we now have a task to fight for the Supremacy of Love over Control within all Areas of Life.‘ Conscious Parenting by Natasa Pantovic Nuit Quotes about kids development soul

Because the parenting IS the most difficult job in the world! Our children need our Love, but also our support within this amazing matrix of choices. They need us to guide them towards Healthy Foods, Healthy Habits, Inspiring Activities, Life Enriching Friends, etc.’ Conscious Parenting by Natasa Pantovic Nuit Quotes about kids body mind soul

The acceptance of both polarities is the understanding that you are not caught up in a victim/saviour mentality, but a mentality of love, understanding, forgiveness and empowerment.

Soul is like a surname in this time and space matrix. It’s the ever loving, abiding, and continuous connection to your auspicious origin. You can’t sell it or give it up. It is not possible. Soul is you.

Oh, some of us "loved" her. The Maginot Line. And Cholly loved her. I'm sure he did. He, at any rate, was the one who loved her enough to touch her, envelope her, give something of her filled the matrix of her agony with death. Love is never any better than the lover. Wicked people love wickedly, violent people love violently, weak people love weakly, stupid people love stupidly, but the love of a free man is never safe. There is no gift for the beloved. The lover alone possesses his gift of love. The loved one is shorn, neutralized, frozen in the glare of the lover's inward eye.

Souls are created in a positive matrix of such love and wisdom that when a soul starts to come to a planet like Earth and join the physical beings who have evolved from a primitive state, the violence is a shock. Humans have the raw, negative emotions of anger and

When my son speaks of playing sports, I've always told him: playing on the team is great, but aspire to be the guy who owns the team. I've always told my son: most of the guys on the team will end up bankrupt with bum knees, but not the guy who owns that franchise.

The very matrix of our ability to love and bond in later life, maternal sensitivity – or lack thereof – also determines cultural tenor.

The matrix of the heart, lift down the eye That shrines the quiet lake and swells a tower… The commodious, tall decorum of that sky Unseals her earth, and lifts love in its shower.

3. The lovely landscape of southern Ohio betrayed by strip mining, the thick gold band on the adulterer’s finger the blurred programs of the offshore pirate station are causes for hesitation. Here in the matrix of need and anger, the disproof of what we thought possible failures of medication doubts of another’s existence —tell it over and over, the words get thick with unmeaning— yet never have we been closer to the truth of the lies we were living, listen to me: the faithfulness I can imagine would be a weed flowering in tar, a blue energy piercing the massed atoms of a bedrock disbelief. 1971

and what happens around us ,simply happens because we haven't learned to love . Till this moment ,people would have to go through the same paths ,experience similar events ,blinded ,full of wrath,imprisoned and bounded by themselves. They will star at their fellows seeing what they are unable to see on themselves....Themselves!

Why, Mr. Anderson?, Why, why?. Why do you do it? Why, why get up?. Why keep fighting?. Do you believe you're fighting...for something?. For more than your survival?. Can you tell me what it is?. Do you even know?; Is it freedom?, Or truth?. Perhaps peace?. Could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson. Vagaries of perception. Temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself, although... only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson. You must know it by now, You can't win. It's pointless to keep fighting. Why, Mr. Anderson?. Why?, Why do you persist?. Agent Smith ( Matrix Revolutions Movie, 2003 ).

In a way that I haven’t yet figured out how to fully articulate, I believe that children who get to see bald eagles, coyotes, deer, moose, grouse, and other similar sights each morning will have a certain kind of matrix or fabric or foundation of childhood, the nature and quality of which will be increasing rare and valuable as time goes on, and which will be cherished into adulthood, as well as becoming- and this is a leap of faith by me- a source of strength and knowledge to them somehow. That the daily witnessing of the natural wonders is a kind of education of logic and assurance that cannot be duplicated by any other means, or in other place: unique and significant, and, by God, still somehow relevant, even now, in the twenty-first century. For as long as possible, I want my girls to keep believing that beauty, though not quite commonplace and never to pass unobserved or unappreciated, is nonetheless easily witnessed on any day, in any given moment, around any forthcoming bend. And that the wild world has a lovely order and pattern and logic, even in the shouting, disorderly chaos of breaking-apart May and reassembling May. That if there can be a logic an order even in May, then there can be in all seasons and all things.

I love the French language. I have sampled every language, French is my favourite - fantastic language, especially to curse with. Nom de Dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperies de connards d'enculé de ta mère... It's like wiping your arse with silk, I love it.

Indeed they realise their 'enemy' is self. Therefore they stand strong from a place of honour and integrity with forgiveness, love and gratitude in their hearts. Not gratitude for nefarious acts done to them, but gratitude for the game and the chance to experience the free will and polarity that has led to their growth and expansion.

Pain is pain, fear is fear, and love is love—even in the matrix.

When Christ mended the ear that Peter had severed, knowing the soldier he healed would be His captor, He was expressing agape-love.

Soon after our father arrived we went to a party in our old neighborhood and introduced him to our friends from the basement days. When a cumbia came on, he asked our mother to dance, and we watched our parents sway, finding each other’s rhythm as if they’d never fallen out of step, as if the past fifteen years were only a dance interrupted waiting for the next song to play. I wondered about the matrix of separation and dislocation, our years bound to the phantom pain of a lost homeland, because now that we are together again that particular hurt and sensation that something is missing has faded. And maybe there is no nation or citizenry; they’re just territories mapped in place of family, in place of love, the infinite country.

...we all live our lives with multiple identities intersecting with one another, creating a mix of privileges and challenges that all people carry with us. Race, gender, economic background, religion, immigration status, family acceptance, and so much more create a complex matrix that sometimes erects obstacles but other times ensures support in overcoming barriers put in your way.

even so did you feel yourself swept away by that inward migration about which no one had ever said a word to you…A great wind swept through and delivered from the matrix the sleeping prince you sheltered- man within you. You are the equal of the musician composing his music, of the physicist extending the frontier of knowledge…you have reached an altitude where all loves are of the same stuff.

...this, this life, this "everything" you know is a mere paper construction. You, my TV dinner-sucking, glazed-eyed friends, are living in ... the matrix ... and all you have to do to see the real world, God and Satan's glorious kingdom on Earth, all you have to do to taste real life is to risk being your true self... to dare... to watch... to listen... to all the late-night staticky-voiced deejays playing "race" records blowing in under the radar, shouting their tinny AM radio manifesto, their stations filled with poets, geniuses, rockers, bluesmen, preachers, philosopher kings, speaking to you from deep in the heart of your own soul. Their voices sing, "Listen... listen to what this world is telling you, for it is calling for your love, your rage, your beauty, your sex, your energy, your rebellion... because it needs you in order to remake itself. In order to be reborn into something else, something maybe better, more godly, more wonderful, it needs us. This new world is a world of black and white. A place of freedom where the two most culturally powerful tribes in American society find common ground, pleasure and joy in each other's presence. Where they use a common language to speak with... to be with one another.

She could give up the burn of singular love inside her and turn into a larger love, she could build around the other women an abbet of the spirit to protect them from cold and wet..she would build an invisible abbey made our of her own self.

With these words, Max Planck, the father of quantum theory, described a universal field of energy that connects everything in creation: the Divine Matrix. The Divine Matrix is our world. It is also everything in our world. It is us and all that we love, hate, create, and experience. Living in the Divine Matrix, we are as artists expressing our innermost passions, fears, dreams, and desires through the essence of a mysterious quantum canvas. But we are the canvas, as well as the images upon the canvas. We are the paints, as well as the brushes. In the Divine Matrix, we are the container within which all things exist, the bridge between the creations of our inner and outer worlds, and the mirror that shows us what we have created.

Imaginal does not mean imaginary — fictitious or subjective. It is a realm that objectively exists (one might think of it as an enveloping matrix of meaning around our own space-time dimension), and it is from this realm that our human sense of identity and direction ultimately derive. … However one names it, the point to keep uppermost in mind is that it designates a sphere that is not less real but more real than our so-called objective reality and whose generative energy can change the course of events in the world.

Lovelight is the emotion of bliss combined with the infinite intelligence of the universe. Lightlove are the frequency codes of awareness and intelligence that combine with the emotion of bliss. Both of these equations lead to that which we call 'bliss charged love'.

It goes like this: go to school, get brainwashed, go to college, get more brainwashed, drink beer, get a degree, get a job, get married, have kids, get promoted, get a mortgage, take a yearly vacation, buy stuff on the holidays, retire, take up golf, be a grandparent, get cancer and die. The matrix exists to make sure you follow this formula, so that you can do your part to support the very system that’s enslaving you. Except you think you’re free because you went to Maui for a week last June. That’s not freedom, my love. That’s a bone.

Please. Prayer is lovely. She herself prays every day. But for such a threat, Marie will need more powerful weapons than prayer. Perhaps she doesn’t know this, having been removed from the world these many years, but to engage in war with the world, one needs the world’s weapons.

Healthy self-love, on the other hand, is akin to self-esteem, which is our cognitive and, above all, emotional appraisal of our own worth. More than that, it is the matrix through which we think, feel, and act, and reflects on our relation to ourselves, to others, and to the world.

She rises, they hush. She speaks. She tells movingly of what she has seen in town, the poor mother leper and her child, the spitting, the human life lesser than that of street bitches with their teats scraping the earth. How in the Bible, the lepers are healed with love. How it is the nuns’ duty to care for the most wretched of the earth.

Well, doesn’t Sprota’s modesty reflect well on her, Marie says. Such humility and grace! But they must remember: For all those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted. And because there can be no further protest, the girl’s eyes fill with tears. Those who love her read the tears as pious and are moved.

Your community needs you, but maybe not as a constant presence. Your community might need you as a presence that offers courage and spiritual food for the journey, a presence that creates the safe ground in which others can grow and develop, a presence that belongs to the matrix of the community. But your community also needs your creative absence.

Perhaps we are all living inside a giant computer simulation, Matrix-style. That would contradict all our national, religious and ideological stories. But our mental experiences would still be real. If it turns out that human history is an elaborate simulation run on a super-computer by rat scientists from the planet Zircon, that would be rather embarrassing for Karl Marx and the Islamic State. But these rat scientists would still have to answer for the Armenian genocide and for Auschwitz. How did they get that one past the Zircon University’s ethics committee? Even if the gas chambers were just electric signals in silicon chips, the experiences of pain, fear and despair were not one iota less excruciating for that. Pain is pain, fear is fear, and love is love – even in the matrix. It doesn’t matter if the fear you feel is inspired by a collection of atoms in the outside world or by electrical signals manipulated by a computer. The fear is still real. So if you want to explore the reality of your mind, you can do that inside the matrix as well as outside it.

Depression starts from a deeply rooted idea, that as a human being, you are a sinner. Even if you are agnostic, atheistic, or a mystic, sin is a belief that you have violated some internal law of ethics, which causes an inability to regain your divine state of love. It is Fault. Disobedience to a higher power, god, or archetype is another definition from separation of peace of mind. Even if the god or archetype cannot be proven, it still exists in your mind, thus fault is real in your mind. It's the idea that you have broken an internal rule that separates you from delivery of a promise. This creates depression, which is a long standing feeling of pain due to permanent loss. It is not short term loss. It is complete loss that can never be returned. When you birthed yourself into this reality, you were vast, elegant, exquisite, intelligent, infinite, and beautiful beyond understanding. You came into this time and space matrix to gain a soul, and that required a lot of experience. Experience is painful. Experience is expansive. Close the door by accepting the loss.

Being economical with the truth about yourself during a relationship can have tragic results. In a world where people of same families rarely meet, it will not be a surprise in the future for cousins, half brothers and sisters to get into relationships and even get married. Let us have bonding time to avoid situations where members of the same families may get intimate for heaven's sake.

So it’s democracy versus capitalism at this point, friends, and we out on this frontier outpost of the human world are perhaps better positioned than anyone else to see this and to fight this global battle, there’s empty land here, there’s scarce and nonrenewable resources here, and we’re going to get swept up into the fight and we cannot choose not to be part of it, we are one of the prizes and our fate will be decided by what happens throughout the human world. That being the case, we had better band together for the common good, for Mars and for us and for all the people on earth and for the seven generations, it’s going to be hard it’s going to take years, and the stronger we are the better our chances, which is why I’m so happy to see that burning meteor in the sky pumping the matrix of life into our world, and why I’m so happy to see you all here to celebrate it together, a representative congress of all that I love in this world, but look I think that steel-drum band is ready to play aren’t you” (shouts of assent) “so why don’t you folks start and we’ll dance till dawn and tomorrow scatter on the winds and down the sides of this great mountain, to carry the gift everywhere.

lovelight' and 'lightlove' are geometric codes. The phrase 'love and light' creates a geometric code that fires directly into the matrix field creating an instant clearing or upgrade. Lovelight and lightlove are very high geometric frequencies linking into the golden frequency, that which is known as the 'golden mean' or 'golden equation', also known as 'the Fibonacci sequence'. It is the mathematical equation of creation itself.

Or, so I thought it could all make sense if I felt it all the way through, no matter which direction or sense of purpose. What started me on this insane path to begin with? Women, death or luck; perhaps all three I knew that much, this nuke dream filled with silver wet screens. California was on fire, my heart was racing and I thought it was still about to make sense at any moment until I was a tidal wave of matrix information approaching the beach I stood upon.

The three conditions without which healthy growth does not take place can be taken for granted in the matrix of the womb: nutrition, a physically secure environment and the unbroken relationship with a safe, ever-present maternal organism. The word matrix is derived from the Latin for “womb,” itself derived from the word for “mother.” The womb is mother, and in many respects the mother remains the womb, even following birth. In the womb environment, no action or reaction on the developing infant’s part is required for the provision of any of his needs. Life in the womb is surely the prototype of life in the Garden of Eden where nothing can possibly be lacking, nothing has to be worked for. If there is no consciousness — we have not yet eaten of the Tree of Knowledge — there is also no deprivation or anxiety. Except in conditions of extreme poverty unusual in the industrialized world, although not unknown, the nutritional needs and shelter requirements of infants are more or less satisfied. The third prime requirement, a secure, safe and not overly stressed emotional atmosphere, is the one most likely to be disrupted in Western societies. The human infant lacks the capacity to follow or cling to the parent soon after being born, and is neurologically and biochemically underdeveloped in many other ways. The first nine months or so of extrauterine life seem to have been intended by nature as the second part of gestation. The anthropologist Ashley Montagu has called this phase exterogestation, gestation outside the maternal body. During this period, the security of the womb must be provided by the parenting environment. To allow for the maturation of the brain and nervous system that in other species occurs in the uterus, the attachment that was until birth directly physical now needs to be continued on both physical and emotional levels. Physically and psychologically, the parenting environment must contain and hold the infant as securely as she was held in the womb. For the second nine months of gestation, nature does provide a near-substitute for the direct umbilical connection: breast-feeding. Apart from its irreplaceable nutritional value and the immune protection it gives the infant, breast-feeding serves as a transitional stage from unbroken physical attachment to complete separation from the mother’s body. Now outside the matrix of the womb, the infant is nevertheless held close to the warmth of the maternal body from which nourishment continues to flow. Breast-feeding also deepens the mother’s feeling of connectedness to the baby, enhancing the emotionally symbiotic bonding relationship. No doubt the decline of breast-feeding, particularly accelerated in North America, has contributed to the emotional insecurities so prevalent in industrialized countries. Even more than breast-feeding, healthy brain development requires emotional security and warmth in the infant’s environment. This security is more than the love and best possible intentions of the parents. It depends also on a less controllable variable: their freedom from stresses that can undermine their psychological equilibrium. A calm and consistent emotional milieu throughout infancy is an essential requirement for the wiring of the neurophysiological circuits of self-regulation. When interfered with, as it often is in our society, brain development is adversely affected.

The unitive capacities of the spouses don't exist for nothing; they exist for motherhood and fatherhood. That is the matrix in which they develop, for children change us in a way we desperately need to be changed. They wake us up, they wet their diapers, they depend on us utterly. Willy-nilly, they knock us out of our selfish habits and force us to live sacrificially for others; they are the necessary and natural continuation of the shock to our selfishness which is initiated by matrimony itself.

She describes the rhythm of the days. Eight hours of prayer: Matins in the deep night, Lauds at dawn, followed by Prime, Terce, Sext, chapter, None, Vespers, collation, Compline, bed. Work and silence and contemplation throughout. All they bend their bodies to is prayer; the daily office is prayer, the hard work of the body is prayer also. The silence of the nuns is prayer, the readings they listen to prayer, their humility prayer. And prayer of course is love. Obedience, duty, subservience; all is manifestation of love, directed at the great creator. The

The course of history has been dramatically impacted because some simple Christ-followers were simply not sophisticated enough to rationalize into oblivion teachings like this as some obscure metaphor with little instructive value to the contemporary local church. Instead, orphanages opened, schools started, homeless were sheltered, prisoners were discipled, the hungry were fed, the sick were treated, slavery was abolished, and human beings all over the world were loved because Kingdom expanding Christ-followers throughout history believed that Jesus meant business.

Darkness my beloved home, I return! I return, not whole, but damaged. Fatigued by quixotic tendencies, The prodigal has come back famished. An outer world, so hostile and strange Filled immensely with ignorant natives The land where all good is forgotten Where hatred itself is life’s matrix. Though I’ve brought an odd mystery, An enigma that requires my genius A phenomenon, in foreign land; A veiled embodiment of Venus. Since, I’ve craved for my sanctuary, I have returned to you, oh darkness! Now I will restore my lost vigor to Unravel demeanors of this goddess. But..... Why am I estranged to this darkness? Maybe I’ve been away for too long, But shouldn’t home always feel home? Why am I in dire need to belong? As if this soul is deprived of life As if this body is in swift decay As if this mind screams for peace As if this heart calls to be lured ‘way Unwise, to have brought the goddess, When she is of a different realm Unfortunate, to have fallen in love, As she leaves to retain her helm Perhaps, this home lies deep within For everything is, but mere illusion Hence, I’ll reside her in my heart; To feel her, even in seclusion.

Where do I come from? We are the children of the Great Explosion of Love that begot the whole Universe. We bear a common lineage that unites us in its interminable matrix, that is manifested in all of the different and infinite dimensions, allowing us to participate in this unending co-creation with an attitude of loving co-responsibility. Who am I? I am a being of light (Love), with innumerable dimensional manifestations of shadings of Love and Life. The transitory experience within matter, time and space (human being) resides in those manifestations. This allows me the use of my free will in a co-responsible way in the co-creative process of life.

Conceivably, though, the sea might have filtered into her body over the years in tiny fragments like the parts of a picture puzzle which, while she'd never identified the whole, had pieced themselves together as the sea in all its sparkling radiance. An internal sea. Untouched by anyone... Having drunk too much, the mother was beginning to drift off with the sound of the children's high-pitched voices in her ears. Fragments of the sea... Could she trace the matrix into which she'd fitted them all the way back to the flood of light she'd experienced at the moment of birth? The light was pain. She didn't actually remember that time, of course. She'd thought she was reminded of it when she heard the first cries of her own children: yes, she'd thought then, it was painful and dazzling, and I couldn't help crying. With every cry I was longing to accustom myself to the flood of light. But before my body had time to adjust, the light had ceased to exist as light. Perhaps what I was seeing was the brightness of the internal sea? My mother's sea. There were other memories. The tale of the Little Mermaid she'd come across in a foreign picture book. Though it would never have occurred to her to see herself in the person of the lovely little princess, she'd been haunted by the idea that perhaps she had been present herself, somewhere in the deeps where the princess lived. She sensed the sea's wan bluish gleam in the Little Mermaid's sobs.

Oh I'll die I'll die I'll die My skin is in blazing furore I do not know what I'll do where I'll go oh I am sick I'll kick all Arts in the butt and go away Shubha Shubha let me go and live in your cloaked melon In the unfastened shadow of dark destroyed saffron curtain The last anchor is leaving me after I got the other anchors lifted I can't resist anymore, a million glass panes are breaking in my cortex I know, Shubha, spread out your matrix, give me peace Each vein is carrying a stream of tears up to the heart Brain's contagious flints are decomposing out of eternal sickness other why didn't you give me birth in the form of a skeleton I'd have gone two billion light years and kissed God's ass But nothing pleases me nothing sounds well I feel nauseated with more than a single kiss I've forgotten women during copulation and returned to the Muse In to the sun-coloured bladder I do not know what these happenings are but they are occurring within me I'll destroy and shatter everything draw and elevate Shubha in to my hunger Shubha will have to be given Oh Malay Kolkata seems to be a procession of wet and slippery organs today But i do not know what I'll do now with my own self My power of recollection is withering away Let me ascend alone toward death I haven't had to learn copulation and dying I haven't had to learn the responsibility of shedding the last drops after urination Haven't had to learn to go and lie beside Shubha in the darkness Have not had to learn the usage of French leather while lying on Nandita's bosom Though I wanted the healthy spirit of Aleya's fresh China-rose matrix Yet I submitted to the refuge of my brain's cataclysm I am failing to understand why I still want to live I am thinking of my debauched Sabarna-Choudhury ancestors I'll have to do something different and new Let me sleep for the last time on a bed soft as the skin of Shubha's bosom I remember now the sharp-edged radiance of the moment I was born I want to see my own death before passing away The world had nothing to do with Malay Roychoudhury Shubha let me sleep for a few moments in your violent silvery uterus Give me peace, Shubha, let me have peace Let my sin-driven skeleton be washed anew in your seasonal bloodstream Let me create myself in your womb with my own sperm Would I have been like this if I had different parents? Was Malay alias me possible from an absolutely different sperm? Would I have been Malay in the womb of other women of my father? Would I have made a professional gentleman of me like my dead brother without Shubha? Oh, answer, let somebody answer these Shubha, ah Shubha Let me see the earth through your cellophane hymen Come back on the green mattress again As cathode rays are sucked up with the warmth of a magnet's brilliance I remember the letter of the final decision of 1956 The surroundings of your clitoris were being embellished with coon at that time Fine rib-smashing roots were descending in to your bosom Stupid relationship inflated in the bypass of senseless neglect Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah I do not know whether I am going to die Squandering was roaring within heart's exhaustive impatience I'll disrupt and destroy I'll split all in to pieces for the sake of Art There isn't any other way out for Poetry except suicide Shubha Let me enter in to the immemorial incontinence of your labia majora In to the absurdity of woeless effort In the golden chlorophyll of the drunken heart Why wasn't I lost in my mother's urethra? Why wasn't I driven away in my father's urine after his self-coition? Why wasn't I mixed in the ovum -flux or in the phlegm? With her eyes shut supine beneath me I felt terribly distressed when I saw comfort seize S

From the river to the sea. From here to eternity. Swimming and diving in a river to rest by the sea, on the shore. There are forests all around, outside this unique tunnel of water and love and light. The green is powerful, more cutting-edge than dream-like. Really, really intense. It hurts. It cuts. The leaves, the nettle. Stay inside. Warm inside. Plenty of air inside. The forests and jungles all around are peaceful, quiet, quiet, peaceful, but too vivid to be bearable in this Matrix, in this matrix of sound, sonic oceanic tunnel, natural flowing watercourses, light, different shades of grey, white, black, yellow, blue… The green outside is religious, fanatic, horror vacui, but calm, calming from a distance, from a safe distance. Love and hate in everything that is, in the green every nettle and leave and in the river and sea every fish. Floating on a cloud made of feathers while sleeping on a dream while sleeping on an immaculate hotel bed on an island, tout seul.

In the climactic scene of many Hollywood science-fiction movies, humans face an alien invasion fleet, an army of rebellious robots or an all-knowing super-computer that wants to obliterate them. Humanity seems doomed. But at the very last moment, against all the odds, humanity triumphs thanks to something that the aliens, the robots and the super-computers didn’t suspect and cannot fathom: love. The hero, who up till now has been easily manipulated by the super-computer and has been riddled with bullets by the evil robots, is inspired by his sweetheart to make a completely unexpected move that turns the tables on the thunderstruck Matrix. Dataism finds such scenarios utterly ridiculous. ‘Come on,’ it admonishes the Hollywood screenwriters, ‘is that all you could come up with? Love? And not even some platonic cosmic love, but the carnal attraction between two mammals? Do you really think that an all-knowing super-computer or aliens who managed to conquer the entire galaxy would be dumbfounded by a hormonal rush?

Have you given any thought to the formula you would like me to run?" Alex nearly lost his grip on the decanter. "I beg your pardon?" "At least a few of your patrons will need to achieve moderate success, and the occasional player will need to achieve considerable success at the vingt-et-un table if you hope to attract those individuals whose pocket books match their greed and belief that the next hand will change their fortune. I will require instruction as to how you wish me to deal in order to maximize both prophets and popularity." She withdrew a small square of paper from a hidden pocket somewhere in the folds of her skirts and held it out to him. "I've run some scenarios, allowing for a margin of error that I will not be able to avoid. It's all basic accounting worked into a matrix of probabilities, but I thought you might want to review it." Alex very carefully replaced the heavy crystal on the surface of his desk struggling to draw a breath. This was not good at all. Forget his alarming charge into the fray on a white horse, he was rather afraid he had just fallen in love.

When I first started coming to the seminar, Gelfand had a young physicist, Vladimir Kazakov, present a series of talks about his work on so-called matrix models. Kazakov used methods of quantum physics in a novel way to obtain deep mathematical results that mathematicians could not obtain by more conventional methods. Gelfand had always been interested in quantum physics, and this topic had traditionally played a big role at his seminar. He was particularly impressed with Kazakov’s work and was actively promoting it among mathematicians. Like many of his foresights, this proved to be golden: a few years later this work became famous and fashionable, and it led to many important advances in both physics and math. In his lectures at the seminar, Kazakov was making an admirable effort to explain his ideas to mathematicians. Gelfand was more deferential to him than usual, allowing him to speak without interruptions longer than other speakers. While these lectures were going on, a new paper arrived, by John Harer and Don Zagier, in which they gave a beautiful solution to a very difficult combinatorial problem.6 Zagier has a reputation for solving seemingly intractable problems; he is also very quick. The word was that the solution of this problem took him six months, and he was very proud of that. At the next seminar, as Kazakov was continuing his presentation, Gelfand asked him to solve the Harer–Zagier problem using his work on the matrix models. Gelfand had sensed that Kazakov’s methods could be useful for solving this kind of problem, and he was right. Kazakov was unaware of the Harer–Zagier paper, and this was the first time he heard this question. Standing at the blackboard, he thought about it for a couple of minutes and immediately wrote down the Lagrangian of a quantum field theory that would lead to the answer using his methods. Everyone in the audience was stunned.

Elephanta caves, Mumbai-- I entered a world made of shadows and sudden brightness. The play of the light, the vastness of the space and its irregular form, the figures carved on the walls: all of it gave the place a sacred character, sacred in the deepest meaning of the word. In the shadows were the powerful reliefs and statues, many of them mutilated by the fanaticism of the Portuguese and the Muslims, but all of them majestic, solid, made of a solar material. Corporeal beauty, turned into living stone. Divinities of the earth, sexual incarnations of the most abstract thought, gods that were simultaneously intellectual and carnal, terrible and peaceful. ............................................................................ Gothic architecture is the music turned to stone; one could say that Hindu architecture is sculpted dance. The Absolute, the principle in whose matrix all contradictions dissolve (Brahma), is “neither this nor this nor this.” It is the way in which the great temples at Ellora, Ajanta, Karli, and other sites were built, carved out of mountains. In Islamic architecture, nothing is sculptural—exactly the opposite of the Hindu. The Red Fort, on the bank of the wide Jamuna River, is as powerful as a fort and as graceful as a palace. It is difficult to think of another tower that combines the height, solidity, and slender elegance of the Qutab Minar. The reddish stone, contrasting with the transparency of the air and the blue of the sky, gives the monument a vertical dynamism, like a huge rocket aimed at the stars. The mausoleum is like a poem made not of words but of trees, pools, avenues of sand and flowers: strict meters that cross and recross in angles that are obvious but no less surprising rhymes. Everything has been transformed into a construction made of cubes, hemispheres, and arcs: the universe reduced to its essential geometric elements. The abolition of time turned into space, space turned into a collection of shapes that are simultaneously solid and light, creations of another space, made of air. There is nothing terrifying in these tombs: they give the sensation of infinity and pacify the soul. The simplicity and harmony of their forms satisfy one of the most profound necessities of the spirit: the longing for order, the love of proportion. At the same time they arouse our fantasies. These monuments and gardens incite us to dream and to fly. They are magic carpets. Compare Ellora with the Taj Mahal, or the frescoes of Ajanta with Mughal miniatures. These are not distinct artistic styles, but rather two different visions of the world.

We have traded our intimacy for social media, our romantic bonds for dating matches on apps, our societal truth for the propaganda of corporate interests, our spiritual questioning for dogmatism, our intellectual curiosity for standardized tests and grading, our inner voices for the opinions of celebrities and hustler gurus and politicians, our mindfulness for algorithmic distractions and outrage, our inborn need to belong to communities for ideological bubbles, our trust in scientific evidence for the attractive lies of false leaders, our solitude for public exhibitionism. We have ignored the hunter-gatherer wisdom of our past, obedient now to the myth of progress. But we must remember who we are and where we came from. We are animals born into mystery, looking up at the stars. Uncertain in ourselves, not knowing where we are heading. We exist with the same bodies, the same brains, as Homo sapiens from thousands of years past, roaming on the plains, hunting in forests and by the sea, foraging together in small bands. Except now, our technology is exponentially increasing at a scale that we cannot predict. We are overwhelmed with information; lost in a matrix that we do not understand. Our civilizational “progress” is built on the bones of the indigenous and the poor and the powerless. Our “progress” comes at the expense of our land, and oceans, and air. We are reaching beyond what we can globally sustain. Former empires have perished from their unrestrained greed for more resources. They were limited in past ages by geography and capacity, collapsing in regions, and not over the entire planet. What will be the cost of our progress? We have grown arrogant in our comfort, hardened away from our compassion, believing that our reality is the only reality. Yet even at our most uncertain, there are still those saints who are unknown and nameless, who help even when they do not need to help. They often are not rich, don’t have their profiles written up in magazines, and will never win any prestigious awards. They may have shared their last bit of food while already surviving on so little. They may have cherished the disheartened, shown warmth to the neglected, tended to the diseased and dying, spoken kindly to the hopeless. They do not tremble in silence while the wheels of prejudice crush over their land. Withering what was once fertile into pale death and smoke. They tend to what they love, to what they serve. They help, even when they could fall back into ignorance, even when they could prosper through easy greed, even when they could compromise their values, conforming into groupthink for the illusion of security. They help.

The First Sphere is about the matrix we have created and is based on fear. We swallow our truth for the sake of peace. We deny our soul for the sake of comfort and approval. We keep control of others and ourselves. We stay in the comfort zone. We can be victims of everything and anybody, taking no responsibility for ourselves or the planet. We are often caught in attachments (material/personal), dependency (others, the system, addictions both to substances and behaviors), judgments (ourselves and others), comparisons, expectations and self-importance (feeling inferior). The First Sphere is about the masks we put on in order to belong, fit in and feel safe in the matrix.

In review, we have the universal grace, wisdom, love and will that will be imprinted into the core of your being, along with corresponding universal energy flows that are perfect for your matrix, so to speak. This will serve to allow each person to stand in the truth of their mastery. Then a protective shield will be placed around you, which is in harmonic vibration of the love of all life, and non-separateness. Djwhal Khul referred to grace as standing alone in the crown and the three-fold flame of love, wisdom, and power standing together.

Now, there was about this time, Jesus, a wise man, if it be lawful to call him a man, for he was a doer of wonderful works, a teacher of such men as receive the truth with pleasure. He drew over to him both many of the Jews, and many of the Gentiles. He was the Christ; and when Pilate, at the suggestion of the principal men amongst us, had condemned him to the cross, those that loved him at the first did not forsake him, for he appeared to them alive again the third day, as the divine prophets had foretold these and ten thousand other wonderful things concerning him; and the tribe of Christians, so named from him, are not extinct at this day.

Question: Do the machines depicted in the economy of The Matrix produce value? The answer, of course, depends on what value means and how it differs from price. One definition of value is the price towards which the actual price tends under normal market conditions. Another derives from the idea that the value of things reflects the true costs of producing them. One thing is certain: just like love, poetry, porn and beauty, one knows value when one sees it, even if one finds it impossible to define it analytically.

Modern science has discovered that through each emotion we experience in our bodies, we also undergo chemical changes of things such as pH and hormones that mirror our feelings.9 Through the “positive” experiences of love, compassion, and forgiveness and the “negative” emotions of hate, judgment, and jealousy, we each possess the power to affirm or deny our existence at each moment of every day. Additionally, the same emotion that gives us such power within our bodies extends this force into the quantum world beyond our bodies. It may be helpful to think of the Divine Matrix as a cosmic blanket that begins and ends in the realm of the unknown and spans everything between. This covering is many layers deep and is everywhere all the time, already in place. Our bodies, lives, and all that we know exist and take place within its fibers. From our watery creation in our mother’s womb to our marriages, divorces, friendships, and careers, all that we experience may be thought of as “wrinkles” in the blanket. From a quantum perspective, everything from the atoms of matter and a blade of grass to our bodies, the planet, and beyond may be thought of as a “disturbance” in the smooth fabric of this space-time blanket. Perhaps it’s no coincidence then that ancient spiritual and poetic traditions describe existence in much the same way. The Vedas, for example, speak of a unified field of “pure consciousness” that bathes and permeates all of creation.10 In these traditions, our experiences of thought, feeling, emotion, and belief—and all the judgment that they create—are viewed as disturbances, interruptions in a field that is otherwise smooth and motionless.

The scientist in the movie ‘Matrix’, to create a man-resembling computer, introduces ‘love’ in the machine.

The archetype of the hero in Tibetan Buddhism is a Bodhisattva, an evolved being motivated by profound compassion for the suffering of others who vows to reach complete awakening. Bodhisattvas who pursue the Gradual Path follow a succession of training steps through stages of psychological development and reach specific milestones, or realizations, along the way to enlightenment. Both physicists discovering the ultimate nature of reality and poet-activists, Bodhisattvas generate love and compassion as practical and constructive forces to skillfully redesign the matrix of interdependence we all share.

The reason we love The Chronicles of Narnia or Star Wars or The Matrix or The Lord of the Rings is that they are telling us something about our lives that we never, ever get on the evening news. Or from most pulpits. This is our most desperate hour. Without this burning in our hearts, we lose the meaning of our days.

This holds true for the whole of a doctrine or of a theoretical system as well as for a single concept, like love, justice, equality, sacrifice. Each such concept and each doctrine has an emotional matrix and this matrix is rooted in the character structure of the individual.

My naked eyes see the naked truth,” Diablo began. “And the naked truth is that life is an adventure in the imagination of God, Providence at play, and to the extent that we release control, we experience grace. It is not a coincidence that the more you accept the flow of life, the more that life will flow through you. And that the minute you close your heart, the instant you presume to protect yourself from hurt or heartache, or the moment you try to control the insecurity of life with routine and structure, you have already lost exactly that which you are trying to protect. Your heart goes hard, your life goes stagnant, and Spirit will burn you with a thousand sufferings until you sit in your sacred fire and wake up to the naked truth that you are not in control of your life. This is the truth that is so fretfully foreign to common sense. You are a temporarily stable matrix of energetic probabilities, a spiritual synapse in the mind of God, and that’s all. This is no more your life than it is mine. It’s an experience to behold, but never to hold.” Diablo paused, seeking summation, feeling foolish in his nakedness, another hairy monkey squawking all the answers. “Anyway, the trick is simply this: No matter what happens, keep your heart open. Wide open. The heart is made of love, and love is indestructible, and only the arrogance of ego would presume that it requires protection. To open your heart is to reduce your ego, and this is the only magic that is ever required to experience the naked truth.

As a man who has devoted his whole life to the most clear-headed science, to the study of matter, I can tell you as a result of my research about atoms this much: There is no matter as such. All matter originates and exists only by virtue of a force which brings the particle of an atom to vibration and holds this most minute solar system of the atom together. We must assume behind this force the existence of a conscious and intelligent mind. This mind is the matrix of all matter.

Hear Jesus say, “Jill, I will never hurt you or shame you. I told you I will never leave you nor forsake you. Never! I love you with an everlasting and perfect love.” Can you hear Jesus say this? JILL: Yes. GREG: Hear him say,

The matrix is self not wanting to be by itself. The purpose of self is companionship. The purpose of self is friendship. The purpose of self is love.

We are all storytellers, and if we listen deeply and share honestly, we will find that wonderful feeling of community and wisdom in the archetypal themes we all share as we evolve collectively—themes such as freedom, playfulness, mastery, and learning. None of us is meant to be an island, isolating and hoarding resources. When we share our wisdom and support and resources with others, we immediately dispel the illusion of scarcity. We remember that the matrix of connection sustains us regardless of what we want to create or what form our creativity takes. If you are willing to step into those uncharted waters, leaving your old self behind with love to discover who you really are and why you’re here, you will find that you’ll be in a collaborative process. You always have access to the guidance of Spirit, and you always have your soul’s map.

Giddy with each other and the wine, they strolled outside through the Presidio, the old fort now housing restaurants and galleries. Jess explained that she wanted to devise a matrix for scarcity and abundance, frugality and profligacy. She thought that sweetness represented, and in some periods misrepresented, a sense of surplus and shared pleasure. "I don't think taste is purely biological," she said. "I think it's economically, historically, and culturally constructed as well. Sweetness means different things depending on availability, custom, farming, trade..." She was shivering, and George took off his jacket. "Here, sweetness." He helped her into it and laughed at the way her hands disappeared inside the sleeves. "Context is key- so the question is, What carries over? What can we still know about sweet and sour? Bitterness. What persists from generation to generation? Do we taste the same things?" He kissed her, sucking her lower lip and then her tongue. "I think so," he said. "Yes.

Violence appears analytically as a state or emotional condition, but also as an act or disposition to action. It may simmer, boil, erupt, explode, seethe or subside; or seep, ooze, infect, derange, madden, escalate or intensify; it may be confined, regulated, distributed, sealed off; or liberate, intoxicate and purge; it may be insensate, demented, irrational, careless or incidental; or muted, indirect, verbal, or hidden; and as these constructions might indicate, there is nothing obvious or isolated that by itself answers to the name of violence. Like greed, generosity, love, cupidity, cunning, or artfulness, violence is a part of a dense matrix in which everything is held in suspension by the reciprocating pistons of human nature.21

Her aura stuck in my mind like sticky toffee, trying to massage and process the information. As I observed the chaos of my thought patterns, a feeling of foreboding doom was about to unfold in our reality.

The house wasn’t even all that dirty to begin with. Monday through Friday (Sunday being the Lord’s day) we received our assignments from the CHORE CHART—a matrix Clyde created with the days of the week running across the top and our names, but not his, running vertically down the side. He was exempt because “My job is to pay the bills and put food on the table. If you want to do that, you can get off the CHORE CHART.” We couldn’t—child labor laws and all—so it was an empty offer.

All matter originates and exists only by virtue of a force…. We must assume behind this force the existence of a conscious and intelligent Mind. This Mind is the matrix of all matter.” — Max Planck, 1944 With these words, Max Planck, the father of quantum theory, described a universal field of energy that connects everything in creation: the Divine Matrix. The Divine Matrix is our world. It is also everything in our world. It is us and all that we love, hate, create, and experience. Living in the Divine Matrix, we are as artists expressing our innermost passions, fears, dreams, and desires through the essence of a mysterious quantum canvas. But we are the canvas, as well as the images upon the canvas. We are the paints, as well as the brushes. In the Divine Matrix, we are the container within which all things exist, the bridge between the creations of our inner and outer worlds, and the mirror that shows us what we have created.

The particular challenge to those of us who work within the feminist antiviolence movement is to confront and dispel the myths we have created about ourselves as women and as feminists. We need to challenge the notion of women’s shared experiences and accept specificities of women’s experiences in relation to the complex matrix of social institutions, not just the patriarchy. We need to challenge the notion that women do not have real power in this society, and address how all of us are capable of using our various powers and privileges lovingly or abusively. We need to acknowledge the limitation of our feminist consciousness and ethics, and pursue structural remedies to hold ourselves accountable to each other as women and as fellow human beings.

When you hear of a world beyond this world and a life beyond this life, when you hear of heaven, you're hearing of it as a child in the womb. You've never seen it or touched it. And yet everything within you was made to know this world and live within it... a heart made for a love that is perfect and without condition, a soul yearning for that which is eternal, a spirit longing to live in a place of no death, no fear, no tears, no darkness, and no evil. And yet you live in a world of imperfection, of corruption, of pain and evil, of darkness and the absence of love. And as it was in the womb, so too this world can never answer the longings of your heart or the purpose for which you came into existence. And every tear, every sorrow, every disappointment, every unfulfilled longing is just a reminder that you're not home, and that you were made for something more, to be a child of heaven... and that this life is only the beginning of real life and the matrix of the world to come.

I knew events would offer Alicia the chance to find someone. My job was to help pick the right ones. I pulled out my notebook and showed her a chart I’d designed called the Event Decision Matrix. It helps busy people strategically choose the best events. Every time you hear about a new event, you plot it on the matrix using these two dimensions: 1. How likely is it that I’ll interact with other people at this event? 2. How likely is it that I’ll enjoy myself at this event?

accommodate her. Once again, psychological health is based on having about two years of this no questions asked entitlement to unconditional love. It is the normal healthy narcissism that Freud described as “His Majesty the Baby”. Serious problems accrue however when the toddler does not begin to learn that there are limits to his original entitlement. If there are no limits for too long, then the journey toward adult narcissism begins. On the other hand, if there are too many limits too soon, the matrix of trauma begins to form.

The ore separates from the matrix, and the Perfected Man emerges, altered in such a way that every aspect of his life is ennobled. He is not changed in the sense of being different; but he is completed, and this makes him considered powerful of men. Every fiber has been purified, raised to a higher state, vibrates to a higher tune, gives out a more direct, more penetrating note, attracts the affinity in man and woman, is loved more and hated more; partakes of a destiny, a portion, infinitely assured and recognized, indifferent to the things which affected him while he pursued the mere shadow of which this is the substance, however sublime that former experience may have been.

I wondered about the matrix of separation and dislocation, our years bound to the phantom pain of a lost homeland, because now that we are together again that particular hurt and sensation that something is missing has faded. And maybe there is no nation or citizenry; they’re just territories mapped in place of family, in place of love, the infinite country.

I consider love to be the matrix for this transformation, which calls new being into existence. Love has the power to reawaken and bring to the fire what has been entombed or distorted by traumatic forces or has retreated out of defensiveness and self-protection. Without love and compassion for the fragility of human identity in the face of death and the reality of evil, the madness found in these barren spaces of the soul might not be meaningfully encountered. For the stripping away of the constricting cocoon of traumatic fixations and the untangling of what has become distorted and convoluted during painful traumatization, love is needed.

After some time, souls like me get tired of life. They become just a part of a system, walking here and there, to the work and back, sit in front of their television and don't realize that it's all just a distraction from the truth. In the game, this way of living is considered to be normal. The fool souls are those, who dance in the rain or just sit in the forest, observe a structure of the leaf and think, "what a beautiful miracle is this".

clear picture of God that is woven throughout all sixty-six books of the Bible. According to Scripture, the Source of the river is in complete control of everything that happens downstream. If this is true, then the response to that knowledge could only be complete surrender, humility, and trust in His purpose. And instead of wasting our futile efforts fighting against the current, we are called to align ourselves with the flow. And the result of that surrender? Peace, joy, love, and hope. These are things I did not have at the time. It doesn’t mean there won’t be any suffering; in fact, the Bible promises tribulation. But it allowed me to see that there’s a meaningful reason behind all of it. Today, with my eyes wide open, I’m still discovering new reasons. MINIATURE NAVY SEAL I sensed this “glitch in the Matrix” many times after we lost Riv. But the first time was while we were still in the hospital. During

[eroticism is] quality of aliveness, of vibrancy, of vitality, a life force" that's just as relevant to your work life as it is to your love life. Bringing eroticism into all areas of human existence is at the heart of her work. And because virtually everyone lives in a matrix of personal, professional, and transactional relationships, the erotic charge of those relationships is integrally tied to the pursuit of a meaningful life.

I’ve always loved The Matrix, including Reloaded and Revolutions (and now also Resurrections, so suck it, haters),

Did you really need me to tell you what you really want is happiness? I’m afraid so, because your entire life, you and everyone else have been urged to turn the question of “What do I want?” into “How am I going to get there?”! And thereby, we’ve come to believe we don’t even know what we want, when we actually do, thinking instead that we have to answer the question of “How?” with a sexy-cool career that will thrill us and make all else possible. We even sheepishly think we’re already supposed to be rocking this sexy-cool vocation, except we don’t know what it is yet! Paralysis. You’ve always known what you wanted, “Happiness!” but you’ve been taught it’s something you have to achieve, doing what you love, instead of being shown it’s about loving what you do and seeing where it leads. Neither have we been taught we can feel happiness now, for no reason. And given that most of our “achieving” in life comes from our careers, it’s been implied that to be successful (happy), we have to make wise choices, find our sacred, birth-destined niche, invoke divine intervention, perform clutch plays, get a little lucky, and shed copious amounts of blood, sweat, and tears. Talk about pressure—we’ve carried the weight of the world on our shoulders! Why? Because we’ve confused the means with the end; the hows for our dreams!