Tuesday, September 13, 2016

Editing side effects

Once (the day after I edited that particular text) I woke up after having dreamed about the butterfly effect, thinking that if we can not love each other, there will be no chance for world peace. A slight panic came over me. I got up, washed myself with cold water, brewed a strong black coffee and fried bacon with 2 eggs. I did not read the newspaper and turned off the radio while having breakfast before I got on my bicycle to go to school. The trail winding through the heath-lands, hills and forest of my youth.  Halfway, some wild boars were standing at the side of the track. They had piglets, but were not worried like they normally are when humans are close and they have to protect their offspring. They seemed to be wondered by my confusion and despair. The air was kind of thin that morning, the light was not Dutch, sooner Norwegian or Finnish, somehow brighter.

Many things have happened since that strange day. For instance, I realized that we all make mistakes and sometimes one does not realize that what one mistakenly perceives as a mistake might actually be rather good and progressive (or I'd prefer to say "healing", since the word "progression" was hijacked by cynical short term thinking neo-liberal capitalists). Of course, this can be perceived the other way around as well.
Hey! It's a process. I don't want to be right. I prefer to learn and evolve.

It was raining as if buckets of water were being poured from the sky. The guy I was working with (a great guy, possessed by ancient Viking spirits. He probably would have been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder when he would have crawled his way out of his mother’s womb in current times) called it a day at his chaotic small shipyard. He jumped down from the 3 meter high landing in a small 1972 polyester speedboat. I had to climb the way down a rusty iron chain while the boat was rocking on the waves like a calf, jumping through the fence for a first time in a newly discovered lust for freedom. When I got on board he'd already started the engine, and with a quick steering move he immediately swung the boot onto the wide fjord.

On the water, darkness embraced us as if we entered a huge cave. Rain kept pouring down like thrown from buckets and the sea was quite rocky. I was happy that we went home late at night after a long day of grinding and welding and eating dust; after 14 hours of hard and concentrated work the brain starts to think bomb like. My friend the seaman and shipwright suddenly turned left and shouted: "we have to get this other boat now, because otherwise it will sink with this type of rain". It was a rough ride with a small boat on a big sea. While I was thinking that we would not have the slightest chance in case we would capsize so far from the coast without a life jacket in this cold and weather, my friend shouted loud to be heard over the rainstorm: "I hope there will come no fast taxi boats on this course now. They would ride straight over us, since we don't have working board lights!".

After a 45 minutes rocky sea ride, we arrived at a small island harbor. As in a reflex, I jumped from our small vintage speedboat to the other one we came to save. After detaching the boat from the landing, I threw out a few buckets of water and wanted to throw a line to my ship building friend. He was gone already. I only saw a dark hole of an harbor with stiff short waves and beyond that the bigger sea. After having thrown out a few more buckets of water, I started the engine of the small polyester speedboat, thinking that we would get back together in his small boat as soon as I'd get out of the harbor and pull this boat home safely. It was almost impossible to get out of the harbor since the wind blew straight on the prow of the small boat. The harbor I tried to leave was surrounded by high rocks that were darker than the dark night I had to plow through. At a certain point, I desperately gave it full gas and made it out of the harbor while avoiding some sharp rocks just by a few centimeters with more luck than skill. I could hardly see 'cause my glasses were damp and wet and the rain seemed to beat down even harder than before I got at sea. When on top, I could see some contour of the shore for a moment and check my position, after that I was in the valley between waves.

The specialist boat saving captain suddenly was there with his small plastic splinter, circling around me shouting: "What the fuck are you doing! Just follow me!". Fortunately he took his small flash light and kept it in the air now and then, so sometimes when I got on top of a wave with my small piece of plastic waste, I could check my course. 2 times I had to throttle down the engine suddenly to avoid me from colliding with his boat. I didn't know much about boating, but for sure we should not crash and get into the water with this type of weather if we wanted to make it home. After 20 minutes I sort of managed to keep a steady follow up, although he went faster and faster. It felt like racing with my eyes shut. Suddenly, the small point of light turned sharp to the left. A few seconds later I noticed a large mass, darker as the dark seawater, right in front of me. I had to change course as fast as I could to avoid crashing on a Norwegian granite shore. The boat just made it and sped away from the danger into a rather narrow passage between rocks. I was operating like a machine. Panic was not welcome. The water in the fjord I entered was a bit calmer and the light I followed became more steady. I got out of survival mode and felt lucky that I had made it this far. Half an hour later we arrived at the home island, the boat going high up and smashing down on the waves. I was soaking wet and couldn't speak due to being exhausted, except for a short "goodnight" after I stepped of the back of his quad when he dropped me off at the farm called Stormyr, where I was staying that time. I got in, hugged the dog, fought my soaking wet clothes off and rolled into bed, too tired to eat and drink. Some 5 hours later I woke up by the sound of a quad, coming to pick me up. I brew coffee and gave the reckless shipping berserker a cup too, while I ate my breakfast. He was smiling and said he sort of forgot yesterday that I didn't have much experience on the water being a forester. I said nothing and thought about the black sea during rain storm last night. Alone in a  boat I didn't know how to operate, following a very small light.

It's not that I'm afraid to be alone or afraid of the dark. Maybe I've always been a loner or at least self-sustaining or able to live off-grid. Off road. Off the beaten track. Not so much on this straight and seemingly easy track that almost forces one to follow it and to stay in some fixed idea of society through a system that is not constructed organically like an ecosystem at all. Maybe partially based on a false feeling of security and convenience. Paying rent, paying an insurance company that does not actually want to help when you most need it, paying taxes for that same system that is not a real system, but is merely made of forces that try to keep a jammed system going 'cause they want short term big profit. Making the steady career look like a cultural necessity for social acceptance in smaller or bigger social networks. Results, financial stability, a house, a full agenda, being busy. Loads of information is there though, making me feel not so convenient on this planet: Civil war in Africa. War in Syria. Plastic pollution. Banksters ripping governments. Governments breaking down societal achievements. Corruption. Corporatocracy. International Thiefs or Beasts with no Nation, paying only some 3% taxes in my country of origin while roaming subsidies and getting bought out of trouble by a weak or even corrupted government in case they overplay in their not so sustainable game. Forest conversion. Climate change. Ecosystem damage. The killing of Ken Saro Wiwa. Racism. Power games. Violence. Melt downs. Nuclear waste. Corrupt Olympics. Guantanamo Bay still open. Plenty to worry about while many care about who's gonna be the next superstar or what's the latest fashion or electronic device. I do care. I care a lot. About the ecosystem, fairness, clean water, peace, true social networks based on real friendship, trying to be there, having good reflexes, learning by doing, love, trees, plants, insects, all life forms, social justice, fine art and much more.

In the meantime I try, although I always could try harder. I sort of panicked that day after I edited that certain text for that certain international newspaper. It's good, or even better, to keep on going, to not get lost. Get a grip. In the end I stayed on this track, which is a good one. It all makes sense. I survive well without being too much part of a system that is unnatural and programmed to fail, 'cause it goes too much against the ecosystem. It's like going upstream too long 'till you'll get exhausted. Furthermore, it makes me happy to know that I can grow and collect my own food and that I can make an outdoor fire while it is raining. Basic skills, giving me a feeling of security.

When I strip all off, right up to the bone like one poaches a roe, one solid aspect is within that main structure: Love. It's a deep love. A true love. Not a love to be afraid of; a love that gives faith and is trustworthy. This love almost turned me insane, but it didn't. It 's a love that is free. A true organic non industrial love that came straight from the real system, the ecosystem. Deeper ecological love. A natural love that improved my reflexes, increased my awareness, made me doubt and grow. Sure I made my mistakes or took some u-turns on my path. It's all about learning by doing. A love that can grow and change is a living love or a love for life.
Still, when I strip it all off to the core there's this love in what the basic structure is made of. It's real and it's there. It's there since it started in a split second and it has never left me since. It's nothing to be scared of. Making me fluid like I'm made of water. Making me stable like an old Moabi tree, producing fruits that can feed plenty. It's about air, soil, creating life, making sense.
You're great. You're the best. You're clever, you're gorgeous to me, from head to toe; you're something special. I love your mind and I love how you can laugh out loud, how you look at things. I like your smell. I never felt love like I feel for you, I never made love like I made it with you. You inspired me like no other human being I've met before. You made me feel to be a part of the ecosystem: man and woman melting together, becoming nothing but real nature. Sometimes raw as nature can be, sometimes so damned sweet and soft like a form of art. When you were in despair 'cause you felt alone, I cried with you and tried to kiss your tears away. I'll never forget that and I may cry, build a fire or chew tree bark with Baka friends, play loud drums with Sousou friends or dance for people on the other side with Benin friends, while thinking about that particular situation I sort of coincidentally ran into at that time. It's not weird to feel that. Life is deeper after you experienced your being can be fertile soil where love can germinate. That is a big thing. It sooner is basic and real and creating connections. I'm into peace and harmony, into a solid and ecological sound base to grow on. Do nature. Be nature. Make nature. Growing and becoming a different and stronger, more real, tougher but softer man. A reason to travel. To learn by doing and become whole. Feel free but responsible. Think outside the box: so much is possible, you only have to do it. You know that. Who said it was hard to climb. A peak that you can't see. I tell ya it's an easy thing. When it's you and me. But don't shit where you eat my friend ⚓️