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Yet Another New Land

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Ljupka Cvetanova

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“A good and learned psychotherapist considers and digs into all factors in the context of physical, spiritual, political, and investigation in all dimensions before the decision. Mental disorders, illusions, delusions, and such terms may not always be physical issues; they can be real; they can be the process of spirituality; they can be the result of chemicals as a patient feels and realizes rather than mental or physical. Most psychotherapists are just like robots and professional bookworms and have no other subjects’ knowledge. Whether delusion, illusion, hallucination, or mirage that carries a similar context as there is truth and also no truth: If you exemplify mirage, no doubt when a layer of water appears in a desert or on a warm road and causes the light to refract through the heat of the sun is truth, but a layer of water is truthless. Light exists, not a layer of water; it is a lack of knowledge, not a mental issue. Psychotherapists cannot treat a lack of knowledge with drugs. If they remain unable to understand it, of course, they also have a lack of knowledge.”

IllusionDelusionHallucination
Author:Ehsan Sehgal
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“There was a terrible disparity between the speed at which he was moving and the quiet immobility of that line, but he insisted. So as not to go. To stay behind. To overflow, take root in what would stay here. A centipede can, cut into pieces. Each part can walk by itself. Still more, each leg flexes, lying alone on the floor. There was a screaming sound in each ear, and the difference between the two pitches was so narrow that the vibration was like running his fingernail along the edge of a new dime. In front of his eyes clusters of round spots were being born; they were the little spots that result when a photographic cut in a newspaper is enlarged many times. Lighter agglomerations, darker masses, small regions of uninhabited space here and there. Each spot slowly took on a third dimension. He tried to recoil from the expanding globules of matter. Did he cry out? Could he move? The thin distance between the two high screams became narrower, they were almost one; now the difference was the edge of a razor blade, poised against the tips of each finger. The fingers were to be sliced longitudinally.”

FeverHallucinationCentipedesFever Dreams
Book:The Sheltering Sky
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“The Final Enigma (Sonnet 2002) Consciousness contains the cosmos, cosmos contains consciousness, all rooted in specks of jelly, firing in frenzy inside our head. When neurons fire, we see light, lack of oxygen conjures a tunnel. Nearing death, hallucinogens kick in, thus we experience kingdoms mythical. Neurons forge the fabric of reality, within neurons our paradise is born. Neurons concoct our fabled purgatory, thus our strong beliefs rule perception. Neurons are the birthplace of order, within neurons order comes to end. Neurons are the root of mindlessness, as well as the instrument of mend.”

ConsciousnessPerceptionMindfulnessNeurosciencePsychiatryKingdom Of HeavenNeurologyNear Death ExperienceHallucinationParapsychology
Book:Neurosonnets: The Naskar Art of Neuroscience
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“It doesn't matter how many people you meet in your life; you just need the real ones who accept you for who you are and help you become who you should be.”

LifeInspirationalInspirationInspirational QuotesLife LessonsLife QuotesInspiringPositivePositive ThinkingInspireInspirational LifeLife PhilosophyLivingLife And LivingOptimismInspirational AttitudeInspirational QuoteOptimisticPositive LifePositive AffirmationLiving Life To The FullestAuthentic Living
Book:The Light in the Heart
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“I, for example, quiet plainly and simply insist upon annihilation for myself. “No,” they say, “you must go on living, for without you there would be nothing. If everything on earth were reasonable, nothing would ever happen. Without you there would be no events, and it is necessary that there should be events.” Well, and so on I drudge with unwilling heart so that there be events, and bring about unreason by command. People think toute cette comedie is something serious, all there unquestionable intelligence notwithstanding. There lies there tragedy. Well, and they suffer, of course, but … al the same they live, they live in reality, not in fantasy; for suffering is also life. Without suffering what pleasure would there be in it? Everything would turn into one single, endless church service: much holy soaring, but rather boring. Well, and I? I suffer, but even so I do not live. I am the “x” in an indeterminate equation. I am one of life’s ghosts, who has lost all the ends and the beginnings, and even at last forgotten what to call myself. You are laughing . . . No, you are not laughing, you are angry again. You are eternally angry, you would like there to be nothing but intelligence, but I will tell you again that I would renounce all this empyrean existence, all these honours and ranks just in order to be able to take fleshy form in the person of a seven-pood merchant’s wife and set up candles to God in church. ‘So, you don’t believe in God either?’ Ivan said, smiling with hatred. ‘Well, how can I explain it to you, if you are serious, that is . . . ‘ ‘Does God exist or not?’ Ivan barked, again with ferocious insistence. ‘Ah, so you are serious? My dear little dove, I swear to God I do not know, pour vous dire le grand mot.”

SatanDemonDeliriumHallucinationIvan Karamazov
Book:The Brothers Karamazov
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