October Moon
The Artifical and the Sane
How can a reflective surface give off so much light?
The wetness of the night.
Crisp. Clear. Brilliant.
Continue reading
Category: On a Sunday
The Pillars of Polarity
Recently, I had a dream. The details of the dream are not important. What felt important was the fact that I kept waking up from said dream with the image of two pillars in my mind, both embossed with the Roman numeral “II”. Three or four times those two columns kept pulling me up from the depths of dream and onto the shores of wakefulness before I, just as quickly, became submerged anew.
The pillars were not directly linked to the dream I was having, but they kept on insisting on their importance, as if they were saying:
You have forgotten us. You have to remember us.
As soon as I was fully awake, I started wondering about these persistent pillars. I knew that I knew them, but from where?
The Fall
This December all the trees were bare
but for a chestnut that I passed
It still retained a small retinue of leaves
all sickly green
as if they refused to accept that the season
had changed
It reminded me of us
of our society
believing that summer
is eternal
clinging onto the idea
of unchanging fortitude
like those chestnut leaves
desperately holding onto chlorofyll
refusing to let go
to fall
even though the summer is long gone
the autumn also passed
and winter is not coming
it’s already here
but we refuse to see it
out of fear
Hey
It was supposed to be a game.
A way to spend Eternity.
To understand, to know, to name.
It was supposed to be a game. Continue reading
The Sacred Clown
Trump is probably the most famous person on the planet right now, eclipsing even the Pope and the Dalai Lama.
An aspiring tyrant of Nero-like proportions to the political left, and a holy crusader to the political right. But there is also a third mythical perspective (and certainly more, but we will focus on this particular one here):
Trump as The Sacred Clown. Continue reading
Technocracy vs. Ecocracy
We are at a crossroads. The world as we know it is ending – it has been ending for a long time, but now most of us are becoming aware that it is happening. The question is – what story will we choose? What macro narrative will inform the new world? Or to put it in other terms relevant to this blog -> What myth will we live by?
From the decaying corpse of turbo capitalism two children are emerging, fighting for our attention. These fraternal twins both want the same – a safe future, a predictable environment and peace on Earth. But their modus operandi and underlying values are widely different. Their names are Technocracy and Ecocracy. Continue reading
A Tear in the World
Still waters. Clear skies. High spirits.
She closed her eyes. Familiar red-tinged darkness. Entoptic larvae crawling in imaginary space, a spastic dance of perceived light. Her hands resting on the skin of her qayaq. The soft sound of water caressing its underbelly. She imagined the waters within. The ebbs and floes of her inner reservoir of H2O, the swirls, the eddies, the crushing waterfalls and deep, still ponds.
„I am a mirror“ she whispered, allowing her mind to float and dissolve into the vast ocean below. Picture: Her lines of thought as erratic strands of photons falling apart, dropping like fairy dust. Small submerged specks of energy interacting with the informational content of the liquid surrounding them. Becoming one with it. A somewhat guided vision, to be sure. Yet she also tried to stay open, to receive whatever intutive imagery that would come to her in this state. Every time she did this. Every day. There: A flash of darkness, something deep. And a lingering memory of too much death. Translated in her being as a tightness in the chest and a welling of the eyes. Continue reading
The Unbearable Everything
This Easter, when the world is in relative isolation, forced to look within, my thoughts go back to last year’s Easter. I was in The Netherlands, readying myself to join about fifty other people of all ages, all dressed in white, in communion.
The sacrament that we were about to imbibe was not the blood of Christ, but Ayahuasca. Ayahuasca is a Quecha word meaning Spirit Vine and plenty of people have written about what it is and what it does. I won’t go into details about the composition and history of this entheogen, but I will speak about the journey. A journey that I can best describe as diving into the realms of myth. Continue reading
Calypso
The grapes were shining. Giving off light, a reflection of the raging firestorm in the city below.
“It is true, then.” he said, looking up at the red, shaking sky; a canvas of hell, “These are the days of the Apocalypse.” Silent tears streamed down his cheek, pooling up in the shallows of his beard. A piece of cloth appeared in the corner of his eye, dapping his moist skin. He turned to look. It was her veil, still covering her hair. Seeing his surprise, she withdrew her makeshift handkerchief, letting her hands rest on the box between her legs. Continue reading
I’m your Shadow, Bitch!
Recently I had a dream. A couple of weeks before Norway went into corona semi-lockdown. I was in a bedroom, getting ready for the night, looking at my reflection in a full-size mirror with a golden filigree frame.
Suddenly I saw another version of myself, fully clothed and with a greying ponytail, reclining in a dark yellow (nearly golden) velvet armchair, slowly grinning at me. In many ways like my own personal version of Twin Peaks’ Bob. Continue reading