to where the sun is closest
wearing a white dress
Accomplished and lost
through the wind you now let go
your new next summer
All is colorful
from the branch that is hidden
A brown furry bee
luring nectar and pollen
not lost in the breeze
The distant flowers
behind you in morning light
a painted being
From Day 911
I float slowly down
then I unexpectedly
have nowhere to go.
I realize that my Haiku’s from this period are often about getting stuck in life. My inspiration for the poems normally start with the picture, in this case its a hippopotamus seen from the side through glass , the big beast slowly floats down till its hit the ground. The poem describes the situation the only difference is that its written from my point of…feeling.
But I think about life, read books about it, live it. If you do that with some critical thinking then life will appear as a slow road downhill till the end, its just the way it is. You can sugarcoat it what you want but after your eighteenth birthday you physically decay slowly and the spring in your mind gets stiffer and stiffer. What I want to say is that having thought about life going nowhere is not necessary a reflection on what’s going on at the moment in your life.
I don’t like to complain that I am on a downhill trajectory, when we are always going down. Maybe you think you are going upwards at some points in your life, but with enough distance you will see that your still going down. I assure you, I am still a positive guy, just realistic. Why do I think then that this is a healthy way of looking at life, you might ask. I think that a part of being human is feeling, even if it is deep inside, that life is pointless. To combat this realization we humans created all kinds of ideas and stories that assure us that life is not useless. The problem is that people don’t like to be reminded of the origin of these stories and would happily kill the person that tells a different story or none. Life is more clearer without all these illusions stuffed in your head, this is one advantage of excepting you are going downhill and slowly getting there.
The funny thing Is, now that I am approaching my fiftieth birthday (still a kid according to my 75 year old colleagues) is that I still dare to take big steps in life, but no longer out of innocence and lack of respect for the consequences, but because I know that I will always find solid ground…when I land downhill.
As a grown-up you can still play, I like to play the game where in I regularly look into myself and see what all these years living in an other country do to me. Sounds boring? It probably is for a lot of people, but it is something I like to do. I like to look in the mirror at other things to, but since I live in Norway now for fourteen year, this seems to be and interesting angle.
I had several reasons why I wanted to move to an other country, and why I went to Norway. The main reason is different depending on who I talk to. One of my problems was that my future was not there, and I don’t mean there as in there in the Netherlands but it was just not there. Up to that point I did things that came on my path, the Marines, studying, learning a trade stuff like that. But around the age of…34…Jezus Ch… did I wo(a)ndered around that long? Well anyway, I guess it took me that long to realize that I never have taken it serious what to to with my life. The problem is that thinking like that doesn’t really fit with my philosophy. Moving to Norway looked like a big plan into the future, but honestly it was just a way out, it was after all a big plan.
The other important reason for why I left was my discontent with the Dutch society at that moment. I’ve seen some thing and lived in poor countries where life is much harder than the life I have ever led. For the same reason why I think about living for so many years in an other country I also think about why…why where those people in Cambodia seemingly more exited by the new prospects they had, coming from a place where there is nothing and probably never will be. Compared to all the complaining and specifically the hatred towards other people and strangers. So afraid of the future and the things they might loose or never get. I just didn’t know what to do with the knowledge that one in five people I met on the street or within the group of people I knew, voted for a party that, if it where 1932 Germany, would lead them at the road to the concentration camps.
And I know that things will probably not go that way, but if you study history and try to look and understand how politics was perceived in those day’s, you will find that many normal people had understandable reasons for why they voted, for instance, for the Nazis not knowing that they slowly went along with the more extremist standpoint that where preached louder and louder. Even if no one in Holland wants to be a Nazi or will become one in the foreseeable future, the fact that you hop on the yrain that might lead that way is alarming enough for me. That’s why I also left to Norway, to escape the confrontation with these people, who were sometimes my friends and or colleagues.
Why did I Thought about this today? Two reasons. First I found this Haiku from Day 811.
The land behind me
a haze waning in the past
clearing the future.
Secondly, I listened by accident to the radio today and I understand that a certain party is getting bigger here in Norway that I might not like. I purposelessly don’t integrate here in Norway insofar the politics go. I am helped by the fact that most Norwegians don’t talk about, in the Netherlands everybody does…well almost.
I don’t know why I have such a problem with it. Most people I know condemn these parties and devastating ideologies, but somehow they don’t feel the urge to migrate to an other country. I have asked them how they do it but I have never gotten a satisfying answer. I guess my kindergarten teacher was right, I asked way to mush questions, I had to stand in the corner…and don’t look at the group.
Is it possible to imagine a world without time? I don’t think so. You can split up a second a million times, there will still be a moment, that is different than the moment before. Even without the clock there is a movement, you might say it is going forwards. But we cannot measure it like we can do with our place in the universe or our distance to the wall left from us.
Time feels more like a liquid that surrounds you, you can feel it all over you, but you can’t grasp it.
Motionless in time
a surface seems to ripple
I blink and move it.
This poem (Day 783) from a while ago is following more of the rules that define a haiku. I remember the picture that belongs to that day, sailing on a blue sea with ripples everywhere. In those moments time seems to stand still and the seconds that nothing calls for your attention last forever. As if I am “motionless in time”.
I tend to be quite literally when I use my daily picture as an inspiration for my poem, and in this case “a surface seems to ripple” can be taken literally. And the “seems” goes away when I blink my eyes and pay attention once again.
Besides the literal interpretation of the poem, derived from the picture, i like to sneak in a more philosophical meaning. I have a hard time seeing it this time. That is an other thing that time does to a lot of people, it arbitrary eats your past away like the white foam that pops in the wake of a sailboat.
But that’s the thing with art. You look at it, read it or listen to it and you feel that it is good and deep. It feels like looking at a closed door that, if you open it, will show a bright lit world, where you can wonder around forever. I like that part the most, when you crack it open and a little bit of the light begins to shine through… Most of the times its off course just a door to a dark cellar or a light bulb that shines in your face. But you never know and that’s why I keep on seeing, reading and listening.
Rain over the bridge
and still sticks on my window
sliding slow sideways
A red flower longs
the rain that will fall today
In fifty-five nights
I just stare aimless
through the windows and those walls
for the grass to grow
Two flowers behind
the window in front of them
while rain and sun play
A gray cloudy day
disappears under my roof
and bright yellow walls
Time drains in the soil
from blue skies behind the clouds
my terra firma