Kültür Sanat Edebiyat Şiir

Ölüm, öldürülmüyor....

........içimde bir şey küle dönüyor ve çürüyordu
bir şey ölmeye başlamıştı..

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....... gün dönerdi, benzi solardı kahkahamın.

Afrika’daki çocuk susuzluktan kıvranırken Amerika’daki çocuğun obez olmasına katlanıyorum.

Do you think of your toothbrush every time you see a pool ?



No—and that's an interesting example.

A toothbrush and a pool are both connected to water, cleaning, and daily life, but most people don't mentally carry every literal connection from one thing to another. If they did, seeing a pool would trigger an endless chain: toothbrush › sink › pipes › river › rain › ocean › cloud...

Instead, the mind selects. It notices some meanings and lets others remain in the background.

I think your earlier point touches on this. Something can be *literally related* to everything else without being *the thing we see*. A pool may contain the history of rain, engineering, labor, and chemistry, but when someone stands beside it they might simply see reflected sky.

Likewise, a day's work may contain hundreds of meanings, yet at the end of the day what stays with us may be only one feeling, one image, one prayer, one conversation.

So no, I don't think of my toothbrush every time I see a pool. And perhaps that's fortunate. Otherwise the world would become so crowded with associations that we could no longer see what is actually before us.

Sometimes understanding comes not from following every connection, but from knowing which connection to leave silent.

On the other hand what you are as a human contains the literal meanings of every thing you do everyday but work is not the sun on your window and you throw it away in your dreams. What do you see?



I read your thought this way:

What we are is not separate from what we do. Every ordinary act—working, washing dishes, writing a letter, drawing a line, helping someone, turning away from someone—contains meaning whether we notice it or not. The literal meaning is already there, embodied in the act.

But work is not the sun.

The sun arrives without asking. It illuminates.

Work is something we make, organize, struggle with, and often mistake for the source of illumination itself.

So when night comes, or when dreams come, perhaps we throw away the day's work—not because it was worthless, but because dreams are not interested in our resumes. They take away titles, schedules, achievements, even our carefully arranged explanations.

What remains?

Perhaps not the work itself, but the pattern beneath it.

Not "I was a painter" or "I was a teacher" or "I was successful."

Rather:

* I sought beauty.
* I feared loss.
* I loved this person.
* I trusted God.
* I wanted to understand.
* I carried a grief.
* I hoped.

If I follow your metaphor, when the work is thrown away in dreams, I do not see the window anymore. I see the light that had been passing through it all along.

And sometimes, in dreams or in prayer or in silence, the strange realization is that the light was never the possession of the window. The window merely revealed its shape for a while.

So, 1700 years of inscriptions found in Medina. on the other hand we can not simply say the authority and the guidance of it is all in me so that ı can command over years... we are all the children of the sun. But you can feel it.


What you're pointing to feels less like a historical claim and more like a distinction between **heritage** and **authority**.

If inscriptions from Medina survive for 1700 years, they can testify that people lived, believed, spoke, prayed, built, remembered. They are traces of human continuity. But a trace is not automatically a command. A stone can tell us *that* something was valued; it cannot by itself force us to value it in the same way.

So when you say:

> "We cannot simply say the authority and the guidance of it is all in me so that I can command over years..."

I hear a caution against confusing inheritance with ownership. No single person contains the whole tradition. No individual can honestly say, "The centuries belong to me." We receive from those before us, but we do not become their sole voice.

And then:

> "We are all the children of the sun."

That phrase shifts the perspective. The sun shines on inscriptions, prophets, scholars, farmers, artists, believers, doubters, and children alike. It suggests a shared condition before any claim of rank or possession.

"But you can feel it."

Yes—many people describe a feeling that precedes argument: standing before an ancient text, a ruin, a prayer, a landscape, or even a painting, and sensing that one's own life is connected to something older and larger. The feeling itself is not proof of authority, but it can be a reminder of belonging.

It is a bit like a line of light passing through many windows. No window owns the sun, yet each one receives it for a while.

Bu neyin kavgası
Neyin hırsı, neyin ispatı
Bir de tam tersini düşünseniz olmaz mı ?

Erkek çocuğunun Oedipus kompleksi yaşaması için bir babasının olması gerekmez. Sembolik düzlemde baba figürünün inşa edilmiş olması yeterlidir. Bu figür ataerkil dönemlerde yer alan anlatılarla tekrar tekrar erkek bilinçaltına işlenmiştir. (Jacques Lacan-Benim Öğrettiklerim)

Sibernetik: Canlılardaki sinir sistemini bilgisayar sistemleri ile karşılaştıran, bilgisayar sistemlerine uyarlamaya çalışan bilim dalıdır.