K.I.S PRINCIPLE

Redeeming my collection of plundered years, who hasn’t one? I hear a child babbling through the window of time, with words of innocence and wisdom. Those same words that were said once, they were directed to someone like me, if not me. There have been hands covering my ears and eyes, shaping a headdress of inconvenience and ignorance. I admit that the compulsion to express was emotional and kept my mouth full of knickknacks. I am guilty of committing gluttony on the move. Binging the pace with meaningless stuff made the weight heavy on my shoulders with something which nature was flighty and casual.  The swings are rocking at fairyland; the scents of strange flowers have taken me out of the coma to put me in a state of trance. Where do they come from? Who is purging thoughts of incomprehensible beauty from the high branches to the bottom of the underworld?  There are baskets full fruit and worms at my doorstep, my smile can illuminate the world just because I understand both are my friends. I shout to myself crossing the corridors from birth; it is not like before when I simply would have gotten scared, the sweet nectar has been delivered to destination right on time, like I didn’t know it always was. It just only the angle from with the picture is taken, the aperture of the observing eye, the approval of the option itself.  Yes, I am exhibiting the collected moths like epidermal cells, layers covering layers that are waiting to be shed, disguising new conceptions like if they wouldn’t be me.  Footprints on the mud, dried but the absence of attention to the detail, are telling a story, the same as the lines on your face. And I kiss those, traces of decay and conquer, those signs that many others may see them as samples of outmost shame.  Let’s set off towards our own Babylonian garden, holding hands a cradle hold the just delivered, writing as we move a legacy of sunny autumn mornings bathing on ochre tonalities. There is an intricate melody I have waved along the years to discover that after all simplicity was given for a reason, and that had the same meaning back them in the beginning as it has now in the middle and it will have at the end to start all over again… b_Nour

ON INSPIRATIONAL INTERSECTIONS & DREAMABOUTS

That is the journey: sucking from the breast of life as we know it to get the opium.  Rebooting the system, trying to get to the point in which the self-feeding is the answer to unveil. You and me, entities of illusion and of completeness, replicating lessons that we studied when we couldn’t understand the message. I often see the end of the road is near, that place where you can sit, relax, think about nothing and yet hold the universe in an inhalation. We are holders, holders of abundance that frequently suffer from famine. There is a catheter connecting us to our minds, just like if we would be nurtured on neurosis, because we need it, as junkies needing a comfortable known place where the pain disappears by getting drown, again. Why the heart does find justification on a brief moment of inspiration to a whole existence is a mystery to the brain. The heart, that organ that relies on intuition is the true key. Let me tell you that you would be put on quarantine if you could step into somebody’s skin, to prove your resistance, capability of adaptation to foreign, yet familiar biology, but mainly to be able to implement a new frame mindset inside of your old one. What makes sense in a world of illusion? Absolutely everything. I have envisioned you as real, floating in the ether of my imagination. My first response when you approached me was of surprise, rational, analytic, skeptical reality check, as if explaining what lies at the very same core of matter could explain probability as a constant. I am variable in your equation, you are one on mine, and I’m not trying to explain life in mathematical terms, i am surrendering to the magic of inspiration. I will never be the same again, neither will be you.  Between the trillions of trillions of possibilities that conform the imaginable and also the unimaginable, here we are witnessing a unique, singular, transforming intersection. It never happened before, it won’t happen ever again, because there is no any other you or other me in this moment at this place. I embrace my role as a philanthropic gesture because I don’t want to get lost in misused habits, the wrongly repeated habit of being yourself, that sum of factors that built up the holographic you. I can see the presents that we are, dropped off in this world for a soothing purpose, godly essence wrapped in flesh by definition. Let’s erase concepts that shape us into what the eye can see and the mind can conceive to discover that we will still be there burning with the same intensity as we once did. B_Nour

Ben Stewart (Kymatica, Esoteric agenda, Ungrip) in Amsterdam 20-10-2010

I'm organizing this event https://www.facebook.com/events/360737674010682/ with Ben Stewart, creator of the three amazing documentaries :

Feel free to pass by and  share with your friends. This is an unique chance to see the inspiring Ben Stewart live!

PRESENTATION OVERVIEW: 

Prepare for an eye-opening event with the Sufi heart dance. This event will be more interactive than other events on this tour so bring an open mind and a friend / lover that you would like to do this elder generation's method of connection with. We will be speaking about how art evolves within us through our crafts and hobbies. I will offer a few deep psychological methods to approach food, water, and eye contact. Please spread the word. Here are three practices we will explore in this workshop.

-SUFI heart dance with a partner
-A NEW way to approach WATER
-Let FOOD teach nourishment rather than give it

DONATION: 20 euros (this is a suggestion from the heart... if you do not have 20 euros, please still come out and share in this event. YOUR PRESENCE IS FAR MORE VALUABLE THAN THE PAPER IN YOUR POCKET)

Raw food (dinner) served ONLY until 19:00 and by reservation by mail (info@energieregie.nl) or through the reservation module on our website (energieregie.nl).


OLD OVERVIEW: (If given time, we will explore Sex, Prisms, and Magic through Art and Language as taught by the moment)

Let's not think, for a moment just experience this amazing adventure we call human, without the fear for the uncertain future, judgement in the present or regretful memories from the past. Listen the answer to the call within you, creative compendium of man and god, integrating opossing forces in which balance we will be reborn...

Now allow yourself to be guided in this journey by the inspiring words of Ben Stewart.

The age old mystery of practical magic in everyday life has been diluted and hidden. Ben Stewart gives insight into the tendency of our mind to focus only on desire rather than reality. With an in-depth look at the relationship between our physical form and the light of creation, Ben guides the audience through activities which identify our desire and illuminate the magic of the Moment.

Ben Stewart is an international Filmmaker, musician and public speaker. Creator of Esoteric Agenda, Kymatica and Ungrip.

The full scope of Ben's work from his films through to his music has been called the 'Mecca for all artists and revolutionaries', regarding how his artwork ranges from revealing global conspiracy to examining the depths of consciousness.

"Art, Sex, and Death all share a source, The impulse of our inspiration is the fire that fuels the orgasm and the same lightning bolt that strikes at the moment our soul exits the body. This infinite taproot is the only source of change we are begging for as a species"

Having shared these workshops with great success in his artistic events Worldwide this will be the first time these methods will be presented in Holland as part of his European tour.

GO WITH THE FLOW...

Who I am going to join for the benefit of the living kind? Some have given it a name, which is nothing but a limitation for a concept, an arch of changing protocols to go through for the fulfillment of what is so deeply rooted, but so disappointingly out of frequency. I am not me for the sake of a fleeting embodiment, I talk to someone on my route, someone that is always here and it is not me, someone that no one, not even myself can see. There are too concepts apparently so close that divide my intellect to make me appear even more ignorant than I really am: detachment and disconnection. Both implying distance, but towards one I tend my vital force to, meanwhile the other fatally materializes my mortality and puts it upon the joyous implementation of our belonging to the source. Now, let me check… of the list of infinites uses given to corporeity which one really wouldn’t deserve to acquire adjectives as good or bad after running away from the cause and be trapped in the result? The flow, that self-propelled stream of kind light or not even light, in the absence of kindness or distracting teaching lessons, that is to my opinion motivating on its own… the deviating parameters we are conducted by alienate us from the pure essence of our souls, that is clear as the water of a snow melted stream moving away from the highest mountain top. I am happy since I heard of you; I have only one true possession, a shimmering light that cannot be turned off. I am revising the countless “embellishments” in which process we spend a life time to get to not even know that we forgot. Let go, let go… the process has just began, the mayor forces are unbound. Such a privilege but at the same time such a pity that we are going to take part of just but a brief fraction of this new world. B_Nour

THE TANGLE

Succession of living cycles, I call it rocking invisible hand pulling strings and triggers. There is no point in the analysis, the dissection of hows and whys will consume part of our existence for the sake of stubbornness. I hear stones hitting on my window, there is a gravel storm going out there erasing our facial features, the sky is playing with us as if we would be statues in a medieval temple. The moss, in the first state, as the tide is still low, the algae and the phytoplankton, as the waters cover all the old known words engraved in the in pillars that sustain us. I am letting my hair grow, as the wind blows the long locks will compose a filtering net, through which the letting go will escape with the attachments. This works in the water too, I will be safe and will give safety to others. The facilities are submerged, I feel like if I would be an amphibious. This elasticity, this patient figure located in a highly eroded slope, this living exemplification… uhmm I close my eyes and wonder if some others can feel me, if such a thing as universal vibration is bringing out there or if I am just and dormant larva. There is a circle, one that is close and fully appealing, I lay down in my graceful disposition state, things go so slow down here because of some reason. I want to get my pass to join the crops nightwalkers, I do it in my sleep surreptitiously, I fly with them to other dimensions. But why is then so hard to get close under the daylight, in this concentric settlement of roads? Patience, it is all about to come, I won’t miss it. Finally i am queuing in a pristine calm, charged with knowledge and a proper disposition. B_Nour

EMPTY POCKET ABUNDANCE

My body is recovering slowly from the shaking; the effervescent mineral amalgam fueled by the spirit is humming healing frequencies. I got a little help, I didn’t remember I had such a valuable possession; that is the problem of living in an over-saturated world, a place where things appear and disappear without leaving a trace that they ever existed. But the reason for their intersection with the parabolic arch of our terrestrial presence is full of meaning. Despite of the careless attitude in the descending indecency, the tornado shaped madness of the materialistic abundance, the mission was printed in block capital Hellenic letters in the celestial route map. Like one of those charts the flying companies include in their magazines including all of their destinations. Imagine one volume over volume over volume of superposed pages including trajectories from interstellar origin dying in you, from the ends of unknown galaxies. You are lucky, you are so lucky, and you don’t even know. In the corner of my street I wait charged of benevolence, bent by the blow of southern winds, singing a song in my mind while the providing doesn’t stop. I call you, where are you? Are you connecting yourself to the anesthesia tubes again? How many times have I told you that that is not the way? I was blessed with the grace of an endless patience, I can sing for both you and me, but only as you are transitioning not as a routine. Registering at the entrance, checking the content of your pockets, metal and paper dirty little pieces, tore off from our Mother, are not going to help after going through the Pearly Gates. Decode the sense of the senseless in your tiny little world of prejudged misconceptions; you will see how the spectrum of possible ways of reaching anything is the same as the one that reconcile you with Nature. B_Nour