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Quote by Kamand Kojouri

“I urge you to listen. I beg you to pay attention for these are the most important words I will ever pen: Do not succumb to the half-life! To the indifference and apathy of those cool and aloof individuals. Nothing affects them, their lover cries out desperately for affection but they shrug their shoulders—for they are always shrugging— and transcend the messy drama of the human situation. O this transcendental invincibility—I tell you: the shit of the bull! We are not gods. We are human. Even Christ chose immanence so He could feel as the people felt, suffer as they did. You must revel in your neuroses, your sensitivities and sensibilities. Burn your excitable character, do not extinguish this fire. Stay within. Taste the immediacy of living. Be in life with others. Do not yield to the hypocrisy the world demands! Do not succumb to the shadows, to the half-light, to the half-life. We are not gods. Be human.”

Quote by Kamand Kojouri

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Kamand Kojouri

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“I have been thinking of light, the way it collected in the rain drops that morning I was so full of joy, and the way it shifts and moves in unexpected ways, so that at times this cabin is dark and cool and the next filled with golden warmth. Father spoke of a light that is older than the stars, a divine light that is fleeting yet always present if only one could recognize it. It pours in and out of the souls of the living and dead, gathers in the quiet places in the forest, and on occasion, might reveal itself in the rarest of true art. The entirety of his life was devoted to the hope that someday he would create a sculpture so perfectly carved and balanced, set in just the right place among the trees, that it would be capable of reflecting this light. He had seen it in the works of others, yet be believed he had failed in his own. I wish he could have known the truth. Just weeks after he died, I went to see the bear. It was the end of an autumn day, and as I stepped into the meadow, the light of the setting sun was cooling from oranges and reds to the bluer shades. He had never looked so alive; shadows dipped and curved along his outstretched claws, his fur and muscles seems poised for life, and for a moment, the sun just touching the horizon, the marble seemed to be formed of translucent light itself. I had no doubt of what I was witnessing -- this was not simply a flattering cast of sunset; this was the light Father had sought his entire life. The nearest I can describe is when Father took the back off a piano and showed me how a strong, clear note could cause other strings to vibrate without ever setting finger to them. He said the strings were resonating in sympathy to that pure sound. So it was within me. Shall I allow myself to believe in an immortal soul? If so, then I am certain it was Father's spirit that gathered with the divine light of the world and radiated from that finely carved marble. He always looked to his angels and gods and his Pietà. He never thought to look so near.”

LifeArtLightDeathSpiritBeauty In Nature
Book:To The Bright Edge of the World
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