brain, memory, soul, spirit

So me and my roommate have been having this debate all semester about the nature of memory and of consciousness, and whether or not they are products of mere electrons firing or whether they are sustained by something unknown, such as the spirit or the soul.
Many times I wonder how memory works, and how my brain is able to retrieve information, much like a computer, instantly for us to recall; or in some instances, how it doesn't allow us to remember. Those moments when you know that person's name, but you just can't remember, are really weird and annoying. Its like the memory is hovering somewhere, but as soon as you start thinking about it, you remember it.
The one thing that's for sure, is that our brain or memory banks are organized somehow; by some internal organizing sequence that connects certain sense data information and links them together. For example, when I see an apple, my brain instantly goes and sifts through all of my memory, or at least as much as possible, and makes connections; such that I am instantly given a recall of my forays through orchards in sutton and vermont; and as well, I am immediately given a flashback of the taste of apples, which immediately makes my taste-buds start to salivate. So what i'm getting at, is that, although I have no idea where specific memories are stored in my brain, there has to be an organization of my memories; there has to be some internal organizational network which my unconsciousness is aware of, so that it can immediately hand me my memories when I encounter familiar things, or things that relate to certain things in some particular way. Its not as though I pluck these memories or search for them in a specific spot in my brain; they are just invisibly stored, and magically appear behind my eyes when I which to recall something.
Is my memory storage bank a vast labyrinth with images, scents, emotions, etc, all stored neatly in logical manner much like a filing cabinet, or is more like a system of roots or veins, where each memory is connected to several memories, and so on an so forth? Are they a tangled, interlaced, woven together like a rug? Yes, they must be.
As well, if my memories a mere neurons firing electrical signals, does that mean that every memory, or set of interconnected memories, when they are not being thought of, are dormant somehow, as though they could be imprinted in cells like an image upon a negative; or are they in a constant state of vibration; a constant state of electrical existence?
It's a funny and amazing thought to think that all our memories are somehow hovering and being played about, over and over again, in the labyrinth of our heads somewhere; waiting to be remembered, waiting to be brought forth into our consciousness and awareness.
That some of these forgotten former thoughts and past images of events, which have presumably been transformed into memory and which been stored somehow, are possibly in the process of being repeatedly played out, like some lonely holograph flickering on in off, is a bizarre, yet amazing thought.

n.s

settings

I began to realize that by letting go
All that was needed for this time, came to me
Like a rich idea, passed on by a smooth smile
Likening my senses to the reasoning of the able way
Ready to even out the possibilities of happenings
That once were obscure, yet now complete a necessary circuit
Within the solace of a wakened state
Which seems like a memory unfolding
Across the meandering patterns of an intrinsic harmony
Left to behold itself
As variations of everything it once was
And what it has not yet been drawn...

One friend next to me spoke
Reminded me of a field
And some drums that slipped into the hum….
Melted the details into a rhythmic happening,
That embraced and yet outgrew
Simplicity



Settings - K. S. - fall 2002

self

Opening and Letting go. Around our perceptions,
The re turn of the process requires attention. We are open to realizing yet are prone to act against our wills. We require more information to prove to ourselves that we know what we need. There many avenues of diversity. The truths cannot be known without letting go of what the idea was, because that idea itself holds itself in a place were the parallax of reality cannot be properly perceived. So we must then find a source to bring our intuitive designs into a frame of perception that can absorb the intricate elements that we need to describe to ourselves what we are going through. The simple is so complex and what seems confusing is important and will lead to a function of methods that can solve the obstructions.
Those willing, look in between the lines; the lives of the situations that do hold many needs and wishes. The principles we find let us belong to a realm of intrinsic inference, therefore illuminating a response into perceived notions of solutions. Yet this can easily elude us. The crux is in the cross over of the relationshîp boundaries, that will prove a point that is considered but not acted upon, until the issue at hand is expressed. The process is not determined by the intentions, it absolves itself by viewing and accepting other views on the similar ways principles overlap, and so it then creates a new relativity, a song in the midst of perceived difference.
Working toward the incredible is a normal occurrence. We achieve it regularly but ignore the results. Among the present elements around us there is little to be intimidated of, repression of instinctual actualities will deny the ability of the attraction to transcend the possible diverse impulses that can lead to discovery, which will allow us to evolve. Dedication is of ultimate importance to pursue those details that will describe the Universe.
The Dream is activated by the intellectual abstraction of the subconscious, which will give rise to the uninterrupted genius that belongs to the structure of the molecular dance. Serendipity is the gracious concept of the fluid movements living in our everyday manifestations of this world and how we decide to feel about it. So long is our his/herstory that we can only accept and gain from the world we experience. The sound of living happening. It is so intense, but so real and so elegant when understood as pieces relating to a giant subject , that it then adds to each part an especially simple rhythm that can identify the paths and relate to the majestic transformation of all beings.

k.s. 2004

music as words

Serendipitous circumstances. Connections endless between untold layers of sublime patterns. These seem to bring about the changes necessary for transformation. Something about new occurrences that happen in perfect sequence. These delicate footfalls of rhyming ways. People you have to meet, friends you have to greet, sounds that make you move, as all the similarities and differentiations dance and unfold. It rings a bell, it sounds so clear yet distant, a rhythm so distinct, like a friend you've always had, that special something that you've always known.... and the tune sounds so familiar yet is so marvellously neither present nor before but always subtly beading into the future. Perpetually ahead yet so close, leading towards a woken dream, only seeming, only believing and doing, yet letting go. an eternal love you may hold only once,

or forevermore….

k.s. 2003

keep on moving

movement is what makes life

everything is the universe is in motion

i drew this, in 2001, because i had a conversation with someone i love,

this beautiful dancing woman,

about the magic of movement

and i had to express in some way more lasting than dancing,

and usually i express through music but this i had to draw

- and it is the only worthwhile drawing i have ever created -,

what motion meant to me, and how she made feel

reminded me to keep dancing

in any way shape or form

drawing, painting, drumming, strumming, running, learning,

reaching forward in the dance of life

k.s.

impressions

in our lives
years become like seasons
and we are able to watch ourselves
living these cycles
yet they are beyond our direct control
we have to follow the courses we have chosen
and the designs they create
no matter what is at stake
we flow along these branches
watching the days turn into weeks
the moon seeming to spin faster
and the seasons are different characters
of myself
that bring their familiar imprints and stories
reminding me again and again
of dreams ready to be lived
actions ready to be spoken
and love open to be reunited
with a friend
that is always there
yet still something is missing
something more needed
are we waiting
or are we looking
or is it a search we need
to find the path
we need to take
to look for different meanings
in the exchanges of our greetings
and intricate web of thought exchange
spoken in syllables of sounds
working towards a greater picture
a unified mandala of synapses
painting impulses in your body
as you dance through the days
working your way through the universe
flying around the sun
the cycle of the years ebbing on and on
knowing there are lessons in waiting
as we walk on many streets
reaching out for the hills
and rolling through meadows
deep in meaning and melody
getting to sing the songs that have been unsung thus far....................

k.s.

Majestically Revealed

i love the bare late autumn trees,
the way they stand
majestically revealed,
and how their color they once wore
lays below like a
fallen robe

are these trees now already in a sleep?
without their leaves
are they simply holding their breaths till
spring?

i love that trees live in a
cycle:
the way their leaves
become food,
and the food
becomes leaves.

in the city i am disconnected
from the ways of the Earth,
but it is funny that I am
truly not,
but simply am not aware
that I am connected.
So when I see the return
of a new season:
when autumn is coming to a close,
then I am reminded briefly of the ancient cycles I have forgotten,
and which guide me.

Quite funny is a creature
so lost in its mind
that it sees not and
knows not truly where it
stands;
and how it might be lost in its
own very home.

Who is it that sees not the majesty of the seasons?

the word humble has a
new meaning
when thinking
of the processes of which humans do not
and never will
control...

n.s