Lila is Sanskrit for play, the play of the gods. It is the self-generating genesis of Bliss, created by Bliss for the purpose of Bliss. It is the uninhibited, impulsive sport of Brahman, the free spirit of creation that results in the spontaneous unfolding of the cosmos to be found in the eternity of each moment. It is beyond the confining locks and chains of reason, beyond the steel barred windows looking out from the cages of explanation, beyond the droning tick-tick-tick of the huge mechanical clocks of time.
Come, let us enter the realm of the madman and the finely wrought threads of...
Lila is Sanskrit for play, the play of the gods. It is the self-generating genesis of Bliss, created by Bliss for the purpose of Bliss. It is the unin...
It was Sunday, July 27, 1890. Vincent had recently finished Wheatfield with Crows, thought to be his final painting, one that he described as representing “vast fields of wheat beneath troubled skies,” one where he said in a letter he meant to send to Theo “I did not need to go out of my way to try to express cheerlessness and extreme loneliness.” The letter never got sent, but was found stuffed in his smock.
That morning, as usual, he walked out into the wheat fields with his easel, brushes, tubes of color and folding...
No one heard the shot. No one ever found the gun.
It was Sunday, July 27, 1890. Vincent had recently finished Wheatfield with Crows, thought t...
