photo by Land Between the Lakes KY/TN, CC 2.0 by-sa 2015
Have you ever got the impression that you — and with you, all of mankind — are already trillions of miles away from it? Like, flying away on a wave to the edge of the Universe, at the speed of light, with no chance of ever returning in the same way you came here?
Have you ever seen so clearly that every single concept you held dear in your mind, thinking it was true — actually every concept that anyone ever has ever conceived of — has been nothing else but a trap, keeping us stuck in that ever-expanding wave of nonsense we call reason?
And still, there was nothing you could have done about it, other than abandoning it?
Ah, welcome to my world.
The ever-recurring question of the meaning of communication, it has me again. And I wonder what will become of the words I have uttered, the essays I have scribbled, the books I have written… maybe I sell them for what they are: entertaining hullaballoo.
Damn, this not only makes me laugh out loud, it makes me emotional with feeling so intensely at home in India. Those photographs are the counterpiece to my returning to Germany and obersving how much people take care to avoid any potentially dangerous or embarrassing situation, how they go to great lenghts explaining to others what the rules are and how things are supposed to be, and how they police others into surrendering e.g. to traffic rules or neighbourly behaviour. What a miserable neighbourhood that is.
Yes, there are rules. Masses and masses of rules, and laws and regulations. But where there is no prosecutor, there is no judge – a saying from a tiny 80-Million-folks country called Germany that is most widely applied in an India of 1.3 billion, and guess what – they still don’t have anarchy there.
And yes, things are breaking down. Falling out of order all the time. Not working out in the first place, thanks to human error. But who cares; for sooner or later it would have happened anyway due to the demanding climate and the countless disintegrating animals the Tamils call ‘poochi’ which show us all too clearly that there is little benefit in looking far ahead. Indians can advise every Western punk what it truly means to live a no-future attitude.
When I see all those efforts made regarding standardization of tools, improving food hygiene, or forcing people into wearing helmets on their motorbikes, it really makes me sad how energy is wasted on creating a false safety that has no basis in this clime and culture. But I guess it only follows that first step of India having swallowed the consumerist lure.
Please, please, India. Get tired of it faster than me.
“A Naxal or Naxalite is a member of any of the Communist guerrilla groups in India, mostly associated with the Communist Party of India (Maoist) … Their origin can be traced to the split in 1967 of the Communist Party of India (Marxist), leading to the formation of the Communist Party of India (Marxist–Leninist).”
As opposed to what people in the West think the Communist movement is by far not dead. In some places it is rather deadly.
Woke up this morning to find that it is true; so far, I have reached nowhere.
The philosophers („More light!“), the Christians („Sweet Jesus!“), the materialists („Crap!“), the Hindus („Holy cow…“) the spiritual folks („Oneness, here I come!“), the Buddhists („—“), they all have an idea what that thought should be about.
Just once should we listen to a dog guru who might tell us that it is our last fart that matters most. Does it smell pungent or lovely? Is it meat or rice that created it? For how long is it strong enough to maintain our territory after we are gone?
A spiritual dog might hum a song of one of my favourite bands, Velvet Hammer, singing, „I am leaving my mark in this world by not leaving a mark when I leave.“ Think of it!
But then again all this food for thought will surely result in some sort of flatulence, mental or otherwise. So whether dog philosophy is relevant for us or not remains a question to be thought of.