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Donnerstag, 25. August 2016

Where I wander in silence there is no significance

 The world has gone mad. PERIOD. I do not have anything else to say about this fact. Everyone knows it, and no one cares.

And I find I get ever more detached from the madness. I simply cannot find it in me anymore to muster any more hope or despair. I don´t care about those madmen like the Turkish dictator, or the Russian one or those American ones or the German ones. They are but flesh, and it is rotting while they jibber and jabber and scream and fight and writhe like a can of worms. Even if you go down below the ranks towards communal politicians or even my fellow humans, some few exceptions notwithstanding, and if you are not completely addled in your brain, you cannot but shiver with disgust.

I do not want to bore you with the details of a childhood of being mobbed, a hard time at Kindergarten and school and apprenticeship, and how I overcame the fuckers at the university because I was the best. You know the details of me offering my help and getting driven out of the projects I started, even my own club I helped found and all the smithies except the Bethaus where some fuckers wanted to drive me out. It is happening again, of course.

But it is of no significance.

The sun shines into the twilit woods. And twilight, the namesake and the name, calls me, violently. No, I even do not need to rant on about how the twilight soothes my soul. It does, but it is of no significance. The words do not make any difference. Words are the utterance of a species about to die out, fortunately. My soul will wander on, and I look forward to the freedom of unlimitedness, of space and time, of becoming a new kind of species. Do not get me wrong; I am really enjoying my life, and it´s good to feel alive. And while it feels alien to me, to become so detached from all this foolishness, it actually feels good. For my sentence is not spoken by their behaviour anymore. They can affect my life, true, but I will manage, as I have always done. But they will ultimately kick the bucket. And not because some obscure deity will smite them down with lightning, but because they organized their own rout by their shortsighted greed for success. But even this is of no significance.

Words do not make any sense here.  
 There is a creek. It murmurs silently.
 It flows, hidden in the thicket, and a song it sings. If you listen and do not need it to give you any significance, it starts to make perfect sense. It pulls you, and takes your spirit away to tranquil worlds where the cogs still fit into each other... and the secret is, that those are the worlds that create ours, not the worlds of human makebelieve where people put lots of energy and effort into hunting illusions, and buying and selling them.
 No pokemon whatsoever, see? But see the sprites?
 This world of trees is full of light and shadow. Sometimes it is cruel, and pain is an integral part of it, but so is joy... and since both of them are of equal significance, they lose significance... while gaining sense.
 The forest does not care about what it grows over. It simply does so. Significance is not even erased, it has no part in it. Yet sense has.


 Maybe it can be said that way: There is a cauldron full of swirling subsemantics, hurling, swirling, whirling about like a wildwind. We live in this cauldron called life, and speech and social consent have been the vectors for us to find a direction in the subsemantics. One by one, these vectors have been corrupted by lunacy and madness, and we are left with fear of the subsemantic, of the spaces deep, where dark things lurk... we have no longer faith or a belief, but religions that tell us what to do. Even mammonism is a religion, and Mammon reigns supreme. Death-in-life is his gospel, and to achieve this, he feeds us lie after lie, illusion after illusion. The mind is the destroyer of reality, but the mind is all that is permitted to believe in.

There actually IS a way out. It is a leap of faith, but it´s still here. If you are brave enough to jump into the abyss of the subsemantic, you can find sense still, not significance.
 And the forest grows silently.
 It is still solemn, and silent, and yeah...
 ...I have learned it can provide even for half-mad humans. ;-)
 And hope and fruitfulness prosper in the twilight.
 You can find herbs to cure depression...
 ...and flatulence :-)..
 Under the leaves of the strong-armed guardian of the gate,
 ...you might find rest on St.Mary´s bedstraw.

A lot of sense, and healing-but no significance.

Kommentare:

  1. "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the LORD, which made heaven and earth." Psalm 121:1-2

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    1. ...and from now on go forth and think about what the mouth cannot say and the eye cannot see... (Kabalah)

      We cannot but kiss the hem of the coat, sometimes not even this. And the help is truth, and needs no word. It IS the word spoken into the void, the speech of creation.

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  2. I keep forgetting about st. john's wort. Maybe it's not too late to collect some in the hills. Busy wildfire season up there, but that's as it should be, too.

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    1. Just get out and get yourself some... over here there are still some plants good to go! I keep forgetting, myself... but then I have plenty of St. John´s oil still left from last year and still good to use...

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Now go on, discuss and rant and push my ego;-). As long as it´s a respectful message, every comment is welcome!

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