What gives you goosebumps?

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    I’m eventually going to connect this topic to a theme of Human Consciousness (especially wrt our mammalian neuro-evolution)… so one could mention ‘orgasm’, but that’s not where I’m headed, so to speak.

    Think of goosebumps (and other primal feelings), especially the mostly human-like kind. (Yes, goosebumps come from tiny muscles that raise fur and feathers in earlier-evolved species, and they raise our own hair, but we’ve evolved it further… I’m pretty sure there’s a social tweek or repurposing related to this.)

    And can you think of other primal feelings that can pop into consciousness without you intentionally trying to make it happen on purpose? Perhaps blushing, or its related red-faced anger?

    • This topic was modified 1 year ago by  PopeBeanie.
    • This topic was modified 1 year ago by  PopeBeanie.
    • This topic was modified 1 year ago by  PopeBeanie.
    • This topic was modified 1 year ago by  PopeBeanie. Reason: afterthought, touch-up


    I’ll start with music: Beethoven’s 9th, Ode to Joy movement when the male chorus jumps in near the end.

    Here’s another, for me: I bought the mp3 for it and wish I could post it here (without guilt), but here’s a link to the same track, as recorded for YouTube:




    My Immortal


    Christopher Hitchens speech 2 months before he died. (he starts at 12:20)


    Simon Paynton

    Oumou Sangare – Saa Magni (Death is terrible)  (lyrics)

    O death; O death Death is so harsh Death is so cruel
    Death who struck down Amadou Ba Guindo
    But death spares no creature
    Nothing can stop it
    Not even fame
    Or having many children
    Great riches and many friends
    Amadou is gone
    And when I go to Douentza I will not see him again He will never be seen again in Bamako In Douentza Tenin OngoTna cries for you Whilst in Bamako Amadou cries for you As Adja’ cries for you
    Your widow Fanta cries for her missing husband For Guindo has disappeared, struck down by treacherous death
    In Bamako your old friend Alou Tracre misses you
    How bitter is death, how bitter separation
    It is hard to break the links (of friendship)
    How it is hard to be separated from one’s people
    But death spares no one
    The Grim Reaper of hope did not spare Amadou
    If it did not spare the Prophet Mohammed
    Just as it struck down Amadou Cherif
    Leaving his father Bouba in pain
    May his soul rest in peace
    How harsh is separation, how harsh death
    And merciless death strikes without distinction
    Villainous death crouches at a bend in the path
    Lying in wait for us
    May God preserve us from it
    But death spares no one
    It strikes in the prime of life
    Perfidious death crouches at a bend in the path
    O death; O death
    You did not spare Guindo
    No creature can escape you
    0 death, O death, how you are cruel


    Simon Paynton

    Manu Chao – Malegría



    omg really simon? lol



    @Reg – thanks so much for posting Christopher’s presentation. Painfully sad but awesomely inspiring. Dawkins’ intro was amazing as well. (Also a fabulous example of something that gives you goosebumps.)

    • This reply was modified 1 year ago by  Zweifel.

    You are most welcome Zweifel. I have had a few conversations with Dawkins over the years but I unfortunately never got a chance to met Hitchens. But as he said himself…I have no desire to met Shakespeare (in another life). I can meet him anytime I want in his works.






    Pink Floyd and/or David Gilmour


    @ Strega – When I was about 12 I stayed up late to watch all of “Live in Pompeii“. I was amazed by it and have loved Floyd ever since. I once got to buy Gilmour a drink (in the Town and Country club in Camden) when we got a “lock in”. Saw them in Wembley in 1987 (or was it ’88!!). This is one of my favorite Gilmour songs.


    Home, a poem by Warsan Shire.

    no one leaves home unless

    home is the mouth of a shark

    you only run for the border

    when you see the whole city running as well

    your neighbors running faster than you

    breath bloody in their throats

    the boy you went to school with

    who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory

    is holding a gun bigger than his body

    you only leave home

    when home won’t let you stay.

    no one leaves home unless home chases you

    fire under feet

    hot blood in your belly

    it’s not something you ever thought

    of doing

    until the blade burnt threats into

    your neck

    and even then you carried the anthem under

    your breath

    only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets

    sobbing as each mouthful of paper

    made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back.

    you have to understand,

    that no one puts their children in a boat

    unless the water is safer than the land

    no one burns their palms

    under trains

    beneath carriages

    no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck

    feeding on newspaper unless the miles traveled

    means something more than journey.

    no one crawls under fences

    no one wants to be beaten


    no one chooses refugee camps

    or strip searches where your

    body is left aching

    or prison,

    because prison is safer

    than a city of fire

    and one prison guard

    in the night

    is better than a truckload

    of men who look like your father

    no one could take it

    no one could stomach it

    no one skin would be tough enough

    the go home blacks


    dirty immigrants

    asylum seekers

    sucking our country dry

    niggers with their hands


    they smell strange


    messed up their country and now they want

    to mess ours up

    how do the words

    the dirty looks

    roll off your backs

    maybe because the blow is softer

    than a limb torn off

    or the words are more tender

    than fourteen men between

    your legs

    or the insults are easier

    to swallow

    than rubble

    than bone

    than your child body

    in pieces.

    i want to go home,

    but home is the mouth of a shark

    home is the barrel of the gun

    and no one would leave home

    unless home chased you to the shore

    unless home

    told you

    to quicken your legs

    leave your clothes behind

    crawl through the desert

    wade through the oceans



    be hunger


    forget pride

    your survival is more important

    no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear




    away from me now

    i dont know what i’ve become

    but i know that anywhere

    is safer than here……


    Daniel W.

    Standing under a massive redwood tree.

    Looking at the Mt. St. Helens crater, up close.

    Sibelius’ Finlandia.

    A pilgrimage I took to Mt. Emei, a Buddhist shrine.  https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Emei



    Mike Long

    My most recent “goosebumps moment”:

    Watching a time-lapse animated gif of the Milky Way moving across the night sky. Beautiful but profound only after I forced myself into a different perspective. The star field was, for all intents and purposes, stationary. It was IIIiii that was in motion – sitting on a rock that was tumbling through space. Goosebumps, but also a little dizzy.

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