The universe exists within the frequency of a heartbeat. Before the ‘big bang’, crossing point zero, after the ‘big bang’. That in that billion years heartbeat, we exist, because of what time allows, is the anomaly. Another heartbeat, another time, another existence, all different from each other, never to be repeated. The power of creativity, of creation itself, lies in this one heartbeat. That too many of humankind do not realise that they too move within this one heartbeat during this one span of time with all other things that currently are, is to miss out on this anomaly. The anomaly that is, life.
I dream of cityscape
Waterfront living.
Text & Photo © CM Cordeiro, Sweden 2015
“Darling, I’m so glad I got you over the phone! Are you in between airports now? No matter. Listen, I just got off meeting with the realtor and putting down some last signatures. I’ve bought our new apartment now in the city! I’m so excited! It’s a high-floor unit as you mentioned you liked to have it, in fact, it’s the 50th storey. It’s centrally located, all amenities are nearby and it’s just 100m to the waterfront, the poolside is fantastic! They have two tennis courts, a gym, a jacuzzi and a zen garden… And it’s got plenty of eateries nearby, there’s French, Italian, Japanese and even an Irish pub and restaurant round the corner! You could go completely local too, as you prefer! On the inside, it’s got floor to ceiling windows darling – just as you like it! Here, I’m sending you a picture over the phone now, so you can see the view from our living room!”
Labyrinth
he concert was about to begin. The crowd, dressed in black tie, stood chatting animatedly in an adjacent hall where the pre-concert mingle was held. I stepped away from the hall where family and friends were standing to roam the corridors of the building, once an old fortress now turned into a theater and concert hall. There was still time before the concert began – my niece would be on stage that evening – and I thought to return to the area of the elevator, where in order to arrive at the mingle hall, we were all instructed to turn right. I now wanted to see where left led.
It was not a long walk from where most of the crowd was, but I noted that the sounds of the crowd went distinctly quieter as I continued on my steps towards the elevator. Upon reaching the area, I turned left, and was led into the left wing of the building. I went down a smaller corridor with walls just as sturdy and slate grey as the right wing, but here, a hint of green had come over them. I stretched out my hand and ran my fingertips along the stonewalls as I walked just to see if it was moss or an algae that grew on the insides of this fortress. Continue reading “Labyrinth”
Kanelbulle
Swedish kanelbullar.
Text & Photo © Björn Tesch/imagebank.sweden.se, CM Cordeiro, Sweden 2015
In a rise of blood pressure that set off alarm bells as if heard from the outside-in of her head, the mother, seated in the living room, rushed over to the daughter, seated near the door of the child’s bedroom. Reaching the child, the mother quickly grabbed the box of matches from the pair of chubby hands that tried, so curiously, to first access one matchstick and then light it against the side of the matchbox. A miracle of a fire, from a piece of stick that occupied the mind of the child no end. Continue reading “Kanelbulle”
The monsoon kingdoms: a languid afternoon read
Across the globe from the monsoon kingdoms, the Swedish west coast.
Text & Photo © JE Nilsson, CM Cordeiro, Sweden 2015
2015. History was not a subject of particular interest to her. But the thick book, bound in green, fell into her hands, with its pages opening to the chapter entitled The Coming of the Europeans. This was his book. She sat and proceeded to read. She smiled when she encountered a paragraph that described the city in which she was raised, Singapore, in the 1500s, compared to the great emporium of Malacca, Java and the Spice Islands, as known for ‘nothing much’. Malacca in the Far East was the flourishing main trading port where every year, between eighteen to twenty ships were laden with numerally Sumatran pepper bound for China. Continue reading “The monsoon kingdoms: a languid afternoon read”
Misty mountains
Sunset, Swedish west coast.
Text & Photo © JE Nilsson, CM Cordeiro, Sweden 2015
In conversation, a Master Yogi (MY) and his Student (S)
§START
S: Master, I have come to you today in query of an Enlightenment Pathology.
MY: You are troubled, Student? Perhaps it is that you cannot cessate your Mind?
S: I have to admit, I have no control whatsoever over my Mind. Do I attribute that you my Teacher?
MY: The Students who come to me as Sheep. Do I ever enquire after the Great Zen why it is that my Students are all Sheep and what unfortunate luck I have? What is your pathology query? Continue reading “Misty mountains”
In celebration of 40 on Valentine’s Day
In celebration of 40 on Valentine’s Day.
Text & Photo © JE Nilsson, CM Cordeiro, Sweden 2015
I was seated in a tutorial session of a module in Philosophy 101. I had not a clue what the tutor was trying to explain about the Bodhisattva in Mahayana Buddhism, where it came to that one should practice not thinking anything as part of the ten grounds towards Enlightenment. I remember asking, how it is that one could think nothing? At age 9, I asked my parents what Time was. At age 10, they branded me “little Margaret Thatcher”. Would the very act of thinking not nullify nothingness? And according to what was discussed in tutorial, it is through thinking nothing that one comes into the essence of knowing. Every evening for the entire module on Buddhism, I went home and tried to practice not thinking anything. Every evening, I failed. Continue reading “In celebration of 40 on Valentine’s Day”
Empiricism
In Pronovias.
Text & Photo © JE Nilsson, CM Cordeiro, Sweden 2015
Most forms of meaning-making grounded in empirical endeavors have yet to place postmodernism in their perspective. Truths based on empiricism in whatever of its hundred guises remain not only context-dependent, but intersubjective, constructive and aperspectival [1]. With this comes the grounding realisation that what is seen remains, what was seen. Continue reading “Empiricism”
Warm buttered toast
Semla or hetvägg as it was called in ancient times served in a bath of warm milk is an old Swedish treat that goes back at least to the 1700s. Maybe much further back than that since it is made from the ancient basic ingredients of almonds, sweetener, milk and wheat.
Text & Photo © JE Nilsson, CM Cordeiro, Sweden 2015
Singapore
With chin resting on his open palm, and elbow resting on the dining table, he sat and contemplated his options. Suddenly, he bounced right off his chair, and headed straight for the household refrigerator. He tip-toed to reach the freezer handle, grabbed it, gave it a decided pull and brought out a tray of ice-cubes. Freeing one ice-cube, he then placed it carefully on top of the buttered toast served warm to him for breakfast just a few minutes before. Continue reading “Warm buttered toast”
To the child
Illustration by John Bauer. Still, Tuvstarr sits and gazes down into the water, 1913, watercolor
Text © CM Cordeiro, Sweden 2015
To the child that was born to least suspect
For everything promised it and all itself expects
The unfunnification of life begins with a tint of misgiving
A twinge of a tint of a misplaced shilling
To be shown all candy to be told they are there
Confirmed for its having without any care
The unfunnification of life begins with the realization
That these are just things in phantomisation
And when the child steps into this phantom world seeing
That everything it once thought it knew believing
Was not to be seen nor touched nor found askew
It will know. The unfunnification of life is just so.
A phantom of expectations that come and go.
To the child that was born that now suspects
The unfunnification of life was its founding aspect