Weil immer noch Winter ist.

Seltsam ists -

es ist doch noch gar nicht so lange her, dass ich die kürzer werdenden Tage mit dieser Mischung aus melancholischem Genuss und tiefsitzender Angst betrachtete. Und nun ist der kürzeste Tag schon so lange her, und die Zeit scheint sich gar nicht so hingezogen zu haben, kein Vergleich zu früheren düsteren Wintern. Oder?

Vielleicht sollte ich dabei berücksichtigen, dass ich von diesen zwei letzten Monaten zwar nur wenige Tage tatsächlich in Verzweiflung verbracht habe, und diese lähmende Angst nur noch müde mit ihren schwarz gewordenen Zahnstummeln an meinen kleinen Zehen nagte -

in Retrospektive erscheinen mir die letzten Wochen, obwohl ich jeden Tag dachte: nein, heuer nicht, das wird mir nicht passieren, dennoch wie ein unförmiges Loch. So etwas wie Glück, Geborgenheit, und natürlich das Gefühl, doch zu dem nicht fassbaren "ICH" zurückgekehrt zu sein, von welchem es mich immer wieder wegzerrt: ja, immer wieder. Viel erlebt, in dieser Welt zu der ich selber nicht einmal Zugang habe, und doch einiges in der, die stumpfsinnige Menschen gerne als real bezeichnen. Und immer wieder derselbe Schmerz. Und immer wieder dieselbe Hoffnung.

Keine Abgründe dieses Mal. Nichts zerbrochenes, durchtrenntes, gestorbenes. Es ist noch alles da: noch nicht mal so gespannt, so belastet, so krank, dass es wirklich lästig wäre, aber in diesem Graubereich, der eben nicht zu den Nuancen gehört, sondern zum

Nichts.

Zu Hause. Mein Heim. Nomadin. Hotels im Herzen. Spielwiesen, akkurat aufgeteilt in Mein und Dein, der unwiderstehliche Sog der Passivität, die unendliche Tragik der sich kreuzenden Wege. Wissende Augen, und dieser Frieden, und diese Wärme - No Spoilers! Zu spät! Zu spät...

Ich will nach Hause, und ich finde den Weg nicht mehr.

intellektueller Wildwestnomadenaggressionsschlumpf

Sie habens halt in - oder unter  - sich, die Bibliothekarinnen. Man sollte sie nicht auf Brille und Omadutt reduzieren, sonst hat man, ehe man sichs versieht, einen Stiefel im Hintern. Wer allerdings imstande ist, sich durch die diversen Schichten des Untendrunter zu kämpfen, der darf sich auf mehr als eine Überraschung gefasst machen. Aber wohl mehr die Art der Überraschung, bei der man nach dem ersten Erstaunen denkt: Aber klar doch. Oder auch nicht.

Auf dem Boden der Surrealität.

Der Übersichtlichkeit halber habe ich einen tumblr für meine Fotos eröffnet. Und zwar hier:

http://auf-dem-boden.tumblr.com/

Noch leer, aber bald wirds voller.

Mal wieder.

Zu sagen habe ich nicht viel. Aber damit es hier nicht ganz verstaubt, zeige ich halt wieder etwas.

   

.

 

Nur schade, dass es sich heutzutage irgendwie kaum mehr lohnt, gut auszusehen. Oder intelligent zu sein. Bringt ja doch nix.

Nimue and the Nostalgia towards Historical Origin

"In case of loss, please return to: the rightful owner. As a Reward: $ My eternal Gratitude."

Okee. Ich gebs zu. Die Bücher liegen wirklich nur da, um Eindruck zu schinden. Bis auf die von Alan Watts. Da stehen drei Sätze pro Seite, und es hat Bildchen drin, das bekomme ich noch hin.

Myths&Maps&Moar

In the beginning, there is Chaos. Always. Everywhere.

The world “as it is” - presuming for the sake of the argument that there indeed is something like that - presents itself to the human being as an big mess of unrelated tiny details. In order for human beings to interact, especially, to interact conscously, we need to establish some kind of order. We need to distinguish things, we need to group things, and we need some kind of connection between these things. And in order to be able to do so, first, we need to decide what is relevant.

If we adopt Chiara Botticis notion of myth as a narrative that answers a need for significance, as developed in her book “A philosophy of political myth”, creation myths can be understood as a depiction of this first attempt of defining a crucial, basic order. It is not to be regarded as the account of some kind of real event, but as some kind of map that helps the ones that consider it a myth to orient themselves in this world, to make sense of their actions: past, present, future; uniting and separating human beings, forming and separating communities.

I will not go into a detailed analysis or interpretetion of creation myths, though I think it might be very interesting to look at the similarities and differences in detail. I will even refrain from referring to concrete examples. Instead, I will focus on what I consider to be the first step in creating an order, and sketch some general thoughts on the implications and the consequences.

As I said: In the beginning, there is chaos. Then, for what reason ever, the first division is made: above and below, sky and earth. It is only logical that at the same time that one comes to existence, at the same time, its opposition comes into being, too. Because something can only exist, if there is nothing, too. There are many ways in which two things can form an opposition of some kind, but I think it is safe to assume that in order to have an opposition we need to define the dimension to which it applies. In this very simplified notion of a creation myth we can observe several oppositions coming into being at once: a spatial one (above-below), a temporal one (first-then), the one between temporal and spatial, and the one between chaos and order. One could thus argue, that the very basic order that can established is thus the one relying on time and space, and furthermore, that these notions are so closely intertwined that the one can't be without the other.

Additionally, there must some kind of reference point from which this division can be made, that, itself, can only be created in opposition to some kind of background. So somehow this twofold division does not really seem complete without the other, without the third.

This is of particular interest considering that a myth has to be a narrative, because a narrative always has to have a temporal dimension in order to be one. Even though it is meant to make sense of circumstances that happen all simulataneously – if it wasn't something that had it's impact in the here and now it wouldn't be relevant – it puts them into a temporal order. And as such part of it can be situated in the past, and part of it in the future, or from another angle: it puts the circumstances of the here and now into the context of what has happened before and what will subsequently happen , giving our actions a reason and a consequence (even though the narrative itself can limit itself to retell events solely in the past).

I do like to think that the spatial and temporal dimension came into notion the very precise moment that this need for significance awakened – some kind of first sign of consciousness of the human mind. I also think that humankind noted very, very early that putting together one and one – one of this, and one of that: different in some aspects, yet basically the same – makes three. If we have three, all sorts of things begin to happen. If we have three, we have anything. We can start combining and then combine, what has been combined, on so many levels, without even really having to resort to any other kind of dimension, just out of this very first twofold division and the subsequent combination. Patterns start to emerge, and they begin to repeat themselves with an astonishing regularity, to an astonishing diversity, like an egg that has been fertilized and thus in no time starts to divide at a virtually explosive rate, somehow in itself containing all the specific information it needs to form their own particular shape, different for each species, but in itself woundrously consistent, mirroring the whole process of evolution in the womb of a female. The Miracle of life itself.

But even though I think there are really nice pictures, I don't want to dwell on this level of , but keep focusing on the structure – or maybe logic? - of this process of establishing an order. The fact that a simple system of establishing order can be applied to almost anything, the inherent consistency of a systems carries great persuasive power. If it explains everything, it must be true – mustn't it? That is the danger, the trap – this is why consistency should be regarded as inherently suspiocious, especially when this power is transferred to individuals or groups.

We tend to forget that the starting point, the very first dimension that is considered important enough to positively dissiociate it from the chaos, is by every means motivated, yet still arbitrary. It is a system that has been shaped by creating relevance of some kind. As soon as there is a shift in what we consider relevant, the system itself becomes inapplicable. But because we need significance we might be able to reject this or that system, but not really abandon all of them completely. Every attempt to think outside the box is nothing but a change in the shape of the box. But if relevance is arbitrary, and each system has it's own combinatory system, absolutely foolprof in itself – if, thus to speak, no system can legitimally be abrogated, neither from the outside, nor from the inside, rendering every map a mere piece of paper with some scribbles on it – how can we even act, or think, even be conscious? What else can we rely on?

On a sidenote, I think the contradiction between the need for significance, and the opposing wish to escape significance, is something that has given rise to many religions, too – be it because it is close to my very own map of relevance, I do find that buddhism provides one or two very interesting thoughts on how to not only escape significanse, but also how to overcome the contradiction between the need for and the whish to escape it. Maybe the ability to see without relevance, to see the chaos itself as it is is enlightenment, and maybe it is indeed possible to achieve it through one of the many practices proclaimed. In any case, it is noteworthy that this seems to be a contradiction that has been dealt with in many ways.

In the more mundaine realm of our daily lives we have to change our focus. We need to live and more importantly: to act in the society, in the world we live in. We need to make decisions, and we need relevance in order to be able to make them, because that defines what we want to achieve and how we want to achieve it. And action is always inter-action of some kind, and because we share a place and a time with other humans, we need to have some common relevances, and thus sharing a myth is an important factor in forming a community and shaping the rules of coexistence. And here the theoretical approach that stresses the equivalence and the arbitrarity of systems proves itself practically fruitless, because in order to act, we need to commit. Of course, we can commit to more than one system, dividing our lives into spheres that prefer the one or the other. It could be funny game: “Oh, for this purpose I think I'll commit to system X”, if there wasn't so much a stake: all around the world there are people suffering. I can't but see every individual action in the context of our world wide community. Even knowing that I have no right, no basis, no authority to elevate my own map of relevance to the point that every one else adheres to it, I can't but wish for that what I consider suffering to decrease in a way I consider good. I need to put my own relevance first, neglecting the total arbitrarity of it, because if escaping is not in it, I will at least play my game as virtuously as I can, and at least in myself be the change I want to see, shaping the world and myself accordingly.

In order to be able to reshape we need a shape. Even though everything is a process, we need to freeze it again and again in order to be able to really grasp it. The moment we freeze it, it has already become a distortion of what actually is, and we have to start reworking it. This also corresponds to the fact that on the one hand, our map of relevance has a great influence on our perception, and our perception has on the other was round an influence on our relevance. Again, we cannot ecape this cycle totally – we can try to stay open and be ready to accept perceptions outside of our map of relevance, but we cannot set aside our map of relevance. The moment a certain systems is able to explain every detail of our world, every perception, every action, every consequence, the moment it becomes obsolete. But it is a necessary step to develop our system to the point that it indeed is able to make sense of everything we perceive, otherwise our perception stays limited, too. The real Art of it is to find the proper rhythm of shaping and reshaping, of dwelling, insisting, and of discarding – fuelling the ongoing process and making it visible, tangible, changeable.

Not all maps of relevance take the form of a narrative, not all narratives function as a means of structuring our world of perception and action. The fact that it not only has a temporal, but also a dramatic structure sets it apart from other similar notions, such as ideology, for example. That is a point that should not be forgotten when going into more detailed analysis on how myth exactly is able to function as such, I think besides closure, the plot is an important factor on why and how a myth gains it’s persuasive power, enabling us to compare it to other devices of mapping the world. Above all, I think it would be important to analyze similarities and differences of myth and science – not only theoretical schemata of science, but in how “scientific narratives” work for people that are not directly involved in the academic world. What exactly sets “believing in evolution theory” aside from “believing in creationism”? Personally, I think that for some reason science has gained that sort of persuasive power that makes it unnecessary to really understand how it works. Scientific knowledge is handled as truth by people that have no idea how that knowledge actually is structured and how it came into existence, somehow rendering it intrinsically contradictive. This is why I think that the concept of myth is a very helpful one in order to gain insights on how and why something is considered as true and how systems gain their persuasive power.

Kotoshi mo, yoroshiku!

I think it must have been quite exactly two years ago - or was it three? too many dark winters blurring into each other....
I was very depressed, in a relationship I think of as abusive today, I had just lost my child - a child that was never supposed to be born anyway, true, but that made me hurt rather more than less - lonely, not because I didn't have friends, but because I couldn't leave the house to meet them, couldn't answer the door to let them in, couldn't pick up the phone to call them, didn't even dare to think of them, because it was so fucking hard  to convince myself, again and again, that they were indeed my friends, that they did not despise me, that they would not hate me, because I was such a terrible person, and such a bad friend.

I saw a creepy monster when I looked into the mirror - and I didn't know If I had become completely crazy, or if this was just my true self revealing. I watched myself doing things, terrible things, and terrible things were done to me - and I didn't know the difference between to do and to be done: even when I lay still in my bed, hardly daring to breathe, fearing that the sound of my heart beating would wake "it", I was convinced that I was doing terrible things, that I was bad, that I was guilty. I was failing at uni, failing at my relationships, failing at home, I was a complete and utter failure.

I remember a wise man telling me, something like: "There is something you have to decide: Do you want to be happy, or do you want to be satified with your life? When my Father died, I wasn't happy. But I was satisfied with my life."

Time flies. Life changes. When I went to bed yesterday, my life didn't look as it had when I'd gotten up. Again: I failed. We failed. Dreams crushed, worlds crumbled.

But as for today, I can say: I'm not happy. But I'm satified with my life.

Happy New Year, Everyone!





My year was supposed to start next monday (who gives a crap about calendars anyway...), and there were a few things that I wanted to leave behind, others I wanted to take with me into my future. Didn't work out as planned: Lost what I wanted to keep, kept what I wanted to leave behind. And to be fair, pretty much everything stays exactly the same...

But I have plans. I have dreams. I have wishes. And believe my, be it this year, last year, next year: I will have kicked ass.

Hello, Friend!

It's been a while, hasn't it. It wasn't wine we drank, contrary to the current belief you're not overly fond of wine - but drink we did.

A beautiful evening it was, one of these evenings dripping with anticipation, but peaceful and quiet nonetheless. Actually it took me quite a while to notice you, even though you had been there all the time, silently waiting for me to realize. But as it alway is with good friends, the moment I saw you it was just as if we'd never been apart. Hello, Friend!

You took my hand and held it for a while, while the tension became more and more obvious, but just when I was about to resign, thinking that, whatever had been between us had sprung out of my delirious mind, you looked at me and with a smile you asked: Are you sure? You know the price.

And then i remembered. We had been together so many times, and every time you'd ask the same question: are you sure? you know the prize. I nodded my head, my heart aching, yet overflowing with joy, that joy, the incomparable, incomprehendable joy only you could make me feel. Your eyes turned dark, fear mingled with the joy, but yes: i knew the Price, i had paid it many times, sadly, willingly, and not once i regretted it, even though it had left me broke in many ways more than once.

You, too, nodded your head. Then come. I'll show you the way. And you did. And it began. To the darkest corners of my souls, through the labyrinth of my mind, the decaying heaviness of my fast aging body. I remember that darkness, colder than the mere absence of warmth could ever be, I remember the Sun, burning, burning...

And I failed. I watched myself falling, and I failed. It ripped me apart. I was not strong enough: I failed. There were explanations, of course, even excuses. But some things can't be carried alone, voices whispered, argued, screamed, they started pulling me apart, and a wish arose in my loneliness and was bluntly denied. My brain shattered, my heart broke, my body drew me deeper, and deeper. I knew you were there, watching me silently, patiently, but I couldn't bear to look at you, so I closed my eyes and you were

gone.

More I do not remember. For that was it: to forget: what I'd seen, to forget what I'd felt, to forget everything, but one thing I did not forget: that I'd failed. I'd averted my gaze, and I failed. Maybe that was the reason: That I hadn't allowed you to take what was rightfully yours.

But I know: I will bear with that pain. I will agree each and every time. I will take your hand and give you mine, each and every time we meet, until you stop asking.

I know it's not you who's asking. I know you can't say but the words I put in your mind. I even know there is no such thing as you. Mirror Mirror. God in a Mirror. Nonetheless: Hello, Friend! And never goodbye.

I know this has been written more than once. I will not win a prize for outstanding originality for this, I know. It's commonplace, it's ordinary. But some things have to be said, just so they're said. They have to be said by everyone, once and again. Have you?

So viel...

...Dankbarkeit an einem Tag, und so viel dunkelschwarzes Nebelgematsche am nächsten. All die flauschig-warmen Gefühle sind irgendwoanders, und es dreht den Kopf schon weg, bevor ich überhaupt hinschauen kann. Der ganze Mut, der Wille, in mich selbst zu blicken, den Blick nicht abzuwenden, sei es im Jetzt, im Gestern oder in das Morgen: Man könnte nicht mal sagen, sie seien weggebröselt, stagniert. Es ist eher so, als sei ich wieder zurück in dieses Leben gerutscht, in dem Mut, Wille und Blicke nie existiert haben.

Seltsam wie aus der Perspektive des einen Lebens das andere so eigenartig fremd wirkt. Die Erinnerungen sind ja noch da, zumindest zu einem Grossteil: die Erinnerungen daran, was ich fühlte, was dazu geführt hat, dass ich fühlte. Aber das "da", das scheint nicht ich zu sein.

Vom Einen ins Andere purzelnd

we go marching

bleibt immer ein Teil von mir aussen vor,

Als ob das eine nicht mit dem anderen könne

Und die Sehnsucht wird zum Selbstzweck. Und der Selbstzweck dreht sich und dreht sich und dreht sich, 

bis er feingesponnen eklig verdreht und bewegungslos

am Boden liegenbleibt.

Dabei geht es doch um was ganz anderes.

Retrospektive

Den heutigen Tag möchte ich zum Anlass nehmen, mich zu bedanken -

bei all denen, die mein Leben verändert und bereichert haben. Bei denen, die, einer Kugel beim Billardspiel gleich, durch ihre blosse Anwesenheit, durch ihr Sein an Dem Ort und zu Der Zeit, meinem Leben eine neue Richtung gaben, bei denen, die durch einen - manchmal kleinen, manchmal vehementeren - Stups dafür sorgten, dass ich den Schwung niemals verlor. Bei denen, die mich liegen liessen, als der Boden das Einzige war, was mir noch blieb, und die mir halfen, den Staub abzuklopfen, als ich wieder aufstand. Bei den kurzflüchtigen Begegnungen, die mich die Kostbarkeit des Moments, die Unverwüstbarkeit der Erinnerung, und die Macht des Zufallspiels lehrten, bei den Fixpunkten, die mir beibrachten, dass etwas, das Da ist, nicht immer sichtbar, nicht immer spürbar sein muss. Bei all denen, die mir durch ihr Spiel alle Knäuel durcheinanderbrachten, und bei denjenigen, die wussten, dass man es nur noch schlimmer macht, wenn man die Fäden nicht auch mal sein lässt. Bei denen, die mit mir dürsteten, bei denjenigen, die mir die Augen für den Tau zu meinen Füssen öffneten, die mir das Werkzeug in die Hand gaben, und insbesondere bei denen, die dankbar aus meinem Kelch tranken. Denn der Moment, in dem das Erhaltene durch mich in jemand anderen übergeht, der ist kostbarer als alles, was man mir je geben könnte.

Bei den Spinnweben und den Spinnen, bei den Fallen und den Fallenden, bei meinen Zuckerstückchen und dem einen aus Gold, bei den Mitstreitenden und Gegenspielern, bei all meinen Spiegeln, bei meiner dunklen Königin, bei den Mondsüchtigen und den Sonnenkindern, bei den Anfängen und bei den Enden und bei allen Farben des Kaleidoskops, bei Euch Allen -

I bow to you.

In a Blur.

I look better when blurred.

I need a photographer and a better place to take my pics....

Ver-rückt oder der Wahn-Sinn.

 "Aber sehen Sie,

es ist ungeheuer wichtig, mindestens einmal pro Tag ver-rückt zu werden. 

Wenn man verrückt ist, dann kommt man zu seinen Sinnen. Wenn Sie hingegen dauernd in Ihrem Denken verharren, sind Sie viel zu rational und gleichen einer Starren Brücke, die beim ersten Sturm weggefegt wird, weil ihr die Geschmeidigkeit fehlt und sie nicht 

ver-rückt werden kann."

Pick your Choice.

Zombie vs Clown vs Puppet on a String?

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

 We go marching
through these scorching times
our lungs are filled with dirt
but no amount of hurt
will stop us trying
We go marching
through these parching times
rain will come again
and just like distant friend
we'll both be crying

Graue Eminenz.

Ich mag Grau. Grau kann alles sein. Grau-grau gibt es ja gar nicht so häufig, das meiste hat einen subtilen Farbstich, und so kann man mit Grau ein dezent-buntes Gemälde malen, das an Komplexität dem farbig-bunten in Nichts nachsteht, aber halt... in Grau.

Ich mag auch das Bild von mir als Graue Eminenz fast lieber als das des Bunten Clowns, auch wenn der Bunte Clown eigentlich die bessere Camouflage ist - wer nimmt einen Clown schon ernst? Im Hintergrund, beinahe übersehen, von niemandem wirklich wahr- oder gar ernst genommen, alle Fäden in der Hand, sanft zupfend, und auf eine Weise führend, die das Gegenüber im Glauben lässt, alles aus freiem Willen zu tun - ja, das gefällt mir. Aber da muss ich noch lange, lange üben.

 (Nimues Lieblingsbeschäftigung: Kuscheln mit Kleidern. Gelogen. Ohne Kleider machts mehr Spass.)

Serendipity.

You stumbled upon it it by chance, all of a sudden, the moment you least expected it, the thing you least expected it to be - but would you have found it, if you hadn't been looking for something else?

That day, I was struck by lightning. A complete stranger, strangely familiar. Eyes met, and eyes gazed, half knowingly, unbelieving, and they parted, and they met again. And something happened, and we didn't know what.
But we knew: This was it. The Universe let our paths cross, for one tiny, precious moment, and then tore us apart, leaving behind such sadness, and much more happiness, little hope and an aimless wish. A smile, and a goodbye, and the (un)certainty  of a perfect memory that could endure forever.

There are no coincidences. There are no second chances. There are no shortcuts.

And you wish you had, and you wish you didn't...

And you forget: that is how you might find it.

(Sometimes I wonder if this is precisely what going nuts feels like. It's quite pleasant, actually.)