Poetry

Day 3663, no thoughts.

Poetry

I can imagine what I was thinking in this old picture, but I imagine that it is all wrong.

This was on Curacau, where the weather is always the same, warm wind, but not too. We worked 6 days a week til one o’clock. The rest of the day, we went out by car to the beach, maybe did some diving, and relaxed afterward. Maybe we smoked some, just before this picture existed, sitting on a rock, letting the last heat of the disappearing sun dry my skin.

There was very little to worry about in those days, as if life stood still, or maybe hadn’t started yet. Maybe I was thinking about my life when it would start, or is that something you don’t do when you’re young? I forgot, this was so long ago.

To be honest, the longer I look at the picture, the colors, the mood, the more I forget my thoughts; I just look, close my eyes, and drift into the distance, having the best thoughts, as in no thoughts even while watching the sun go under.

Day 3662, I deciphered.

Daily picture, Poetry, Quotes 
In the right circumstances
we can all feel vertigo
when looking up

I deciphered my handwritten notes from a notebook from 2004. It was all in Dutch but I translated it and took some of the rambling out, but maybe not enough. I leave that decision up to you.

What am I worried about?

Structuring society in such a way that every individual coming into the world, man or woman, is given nearly equal opportunities to develop their various abilities and thereby be able to utilize them in their work.

(uit L.J.C. Beaufort, Michael Bakounin, Majesteit, pag. 30)

Why would you worry about your fellow human? In my case, the lack of freedom for others takes away my own freedom. Everyone is increasingly looking alike, as if we no longer have a choice in shaping our own future.

That freedom seems vast because, apparently, no one tells you what to choose or forces you to do this or that. You can select which school to attend, where to work, how to live, and where to go on vacation. Most of the time, people also feel comfortable with those choices: ‘It’s all good, and I feel good.’ The measure of pleasure is whether you feel comfortable. Of course, it’s nice when people feel good; peace of mind is, after all, the ultimate goal of life, I think that is what they say.

But many people don’t feel good and, seemingly, have the same freedoms and opportunities but cannot use them. They can’t because they lack the necessary capacities and resources or, as in my case,  they don’t want to function within a capitalist consumption society. A consumer society involves consumption, and unnecessary products must be made to be sold with the money of the people who produce them. I admit this is a bit of an oversimplification, but essentially, that’s the core idea. Now, this itself isn’t so bad, except that no status quo can exist. Growth must happen, and the industry that promotes this is enormous.

Let’s say someone needs a pair of shoes, free of any influence but with the memory of painful, dull feet. They want shoes that prevent that memory from getting worse. Their new shoes do their job, and when worn out, they buy new ones. I’m not suggesting you should only have one pair of shoes, but how much is enough? Most people find it strange if you have 30 pairs, but many do. They probably serve a great purpose for the consumer society, but at what cost? It’s very hard to think through and measure, but I see 30 pairs of shoes made from material that must be extracted from the ground, processed, and transported, all just for the madness of someone who thinks they need so many shoes to protect their feet.

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Day 3661, Looking back.

Daily picture, Poetry 
You read yourself, from years ago

are you still there 
then
is now still then

have I stood still
does it surprise 
me 
that I once
was as they wanted 
me 
then
but 
but my style 
was there
only idea 
not yet 

the character 
recognized
the sheen of 
depression 
ab
sent
my now-known 
seed
which
as it grew, 
showed me more
was that my salvation,
resembling a punishment. 

2004

Day 3568, Old poem.

Daily picture, Poetry

Dream machine

We dig deep, moving through the darkness
from my thoughts toward the inside
where there is light, to move as if on a mountain
that tilted and gets lighter with great strides
it arrives, that thought which once was
a distant view, but now shines upon
the midnight behind me, where I come from.

Out there, the world now seems far away in this
beautiful landscape where darkness has its place.

Tomorrow we will talk and think and search
and dig into depths, and laugh at words
pulling life out, of context, as if it is something
and wants to be where the I has no idea and I want
to know it all that is and may be, of
expectation and hope, to guide myself,
a dream machine.

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Day 3657, empty space.

Daily picture, My thoughts, Poetry 
Empty space

I still have the feeling
of a large empty space
in my head
when I concentrate
on the purpose of life

Could it be a hint,
that empty space,
that nothing?

From a notebook, 2005

That nothing is what I feel too, even when I try to connect with my real personality, deadly afraid to face my past for my sense of self. Who am I amidst all this noise? I have an idea, but I don’t dare reveal it yet, very afraid to let go of my familiar personality. I allow myself to be seen only occasionally, by confidants, fellow philosophers, so to speak, because I dare to call myself that, just not to everyone. So I don’t yet dare to claim that identity. When people ask what I do, I say I’m a carpenter. It comes out hesitantly, but for convenience, I say I’m a carpenter. Actually, I’m a philosopher, which is just a word. I’ve never had illusions or dreams, and if you examine them, then you’re what they call a philosopher. I once had illusions, but for the last four or five years, I’ve been almost certain that I no longer have illusions, or maybe this is an illusion; I don’t expect any great insights anymore that make me believe there’s a purpose beyond our time here on this rock with a layer of mold on it. No more illusions, only… dreams.