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The institutions of human society treat us as parts of a machine. they assign us ranks and place considerable pressure upon us to fulfill defined roles. we need something to help us restore our lost and distorted humanity. each of us has feelings that have been suppressed and have built up inside. there is a voiceless cry resting in the depths of our souls, waiting for expression. art gives the soul's feelings voice and form.
-Daisaku Ikeda
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The Institutions Of Human Society Treat Us

Daisaku Ikeda
The institutions of human society treat us as parts of a machine. they assign us ranks and place considerable pressure upon us to fulfill defined roles. we need something to help us restore our lost and distorted humanity. each of us has feelings that have been suppressed and have built up inside. there is a voiceless cry resting in the depths of our souls, waiting for expression. art gives the soul's feelings voice and form.
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Karma Art Peace

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Sometimes when i'm alone i cry, cause i am on my own. the tears i cry are bitter and warm. they flow with life but take no form i cry because my heart is torn. i find it difficult to carry on. if i had an ear to confide in, i would cry among my treasured friend, but who do you know that stops that long, to help another carry on. the world moves fast and it would rather pass by. then to stop and see what makes one cry, so painful and sad. and sometimes... i cry and no one cares about why.
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The impious soul, however, punishes itself by seeking a human body to enter into, for no other body can receive a human soul; it cannot enter the body of an animal devoid of reason. divine law preserves the human soul from such infamy... the soul passeth from form to form; and the mansions of her pilgrimage are manifold. thou puttest off thy bodies as raiment; and as vesture dost thou fold them up. thou art from old, o soul of man; yea, thou art from everlasting.
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What women's lib might achieve if their 'consciousness raising' - or in plain english, brainwashing- campaign succeeds is a society whose members have identical roles but are perpetually at war with themselves; a society of males made neurotic by suppressed masculinity, of females made miserable by having masculine roles thrust upon them that contradict their feminine impulses.
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But what i would like to say is that the spiritual life is a life in which you gradually learn to listen to a voice that says something else, that says, "you are the beloved and on you my favour rests."... i want you to hear that voice. it is not a very loud voice because it is an intimate voice. it comes from a very deep place. it is soft and gentle. i want you to gradually hear that voice. we both have to hear that voice and to claim for ourselves that that voice speaks the truth, our truth. it tells us who we are.
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Such is the remorseless progression of human society, shedding lives and souls as it goes on its way. it is an ocean into which men sink who have been cast out by the law and consigned, with help most cruelly withheld, to moral death. the sea is the pitiless social darkness into which the penal system casts those it has condemned, an unfathomable waste of misery. the human soul, lost in those depths, may become a corpse. who shall revive it?
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Has the dark shadow really disappeared? or is it inside me, concealed, waiting for its chance to reappear? like a clever thief hidden inside a house, breathing quietly, waiting until everyone’s asleep. i have looked deep inside myself, trying to detect something that might be there. but just as our consciousness is a maze, so too is our body. everywhere you turn there’s darkness, and a blind spot. everywhere you find silent hints, everywhere a surprise is waiting for you.
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