
When you look down at the reflection of the sky in barely frozen water.
I will stay a little longer, till it moves — me.

When you look down at the reflection of the sky in barely frozen water.
I will stay a little longer, till it moves — me.

1. The true world, attainable for the wise, the devout, the virtuous—they live in it, they are it.
(Oldest form of the idea, relatively clever, simple, convincing. Paraphrase of the assertion, “I, Plato, am the truth.”)
2. The true world, unattainable for now, but promised to the wise, the devout, the virtuous (“to the sinner who does penance”).
(Progress of the idea: it becomes more refined, more devious, more mystifying—it becomes woman, it becomes Christian . . .)
3. The true world, unattainable, unprovable, unpromisable, but a consolation, an obligation, an imperative, merely by virtue of being thought.
(The old sun basically, but glimpsed through fog and skepticism; the idea become sublime, pallid, Nordic, Königsbergian.)
4. The true world—unattainable? In any case, unattained. And if it is unattained, it is also unknown. And hence it is not consoling, redeeming, or obligating either; to what could something unknown obligate us? . . .
(Gray dawn. First yawnings of reason. Rooster’s crow of positivism.)
5. The “true world”—an idea with no use anymore, no longer even obligating—an idea become useless, superfluous, hence a refuted idea: let’s do away with it!
(Bright day; breakfast; return of bon sens [good sense] and cheerfulness; Plato blushes; pandemonium of all free spirits.)
6. We have done away with the true world: what world is left over? The apparent one, maybe? . . . But no! Along with the true world, we have also done away with the apparent!

It’s strange that the clock around the dark corner ticks slower, or are your hands tied?

It is often clear to see that the whole is now in parts.
Too much pressure or a sudden shock is often the reason, and while some of the broken parts move on with some functions intact, others seem to lose their purpose.
These parts will only find purpose in someone else's reinventing hands or might fill a hole in whoever needs direction.

Abandoned factories are often more interesting than the ones still in use.
For me, it is the activity, the moving parts, and the workers doing their work in silence that I see projected on what is now, old.
I imagine, and what I imagine is often a more refined version of reality, with harmony as its guide.
Reality necessarily rubs against ideality.

I built it all by myself, satisfied. It was finished, but I didn’t realize I wasn’t.
Time passes by; time is nothing when we are not around, but in silence, it stops where you are, and without effort, it will reverse where you ended, where you were satisfied.
Why do we fight time? Is it because we have none?

I walked a road tomorrow, and there was no one.
But it was an emptiness, the kind that hides a void where someone belongs.
Something should be there waiting for me, on the side of that road
Even if it is just a wish, I will wait tomorrow.

I remember that high lookout from where I had an overview of the room that was my life.
Heavy freight I lifted and moved over obstacles from up there.
I sometimes look back at that memory and see the old stairs going up, remembering all those times when I was looking down and to the other side of the hall where my future slowly grew.
I wish it were safe to go up there now, all these years later, and see where my future ended by the time I left that room.

I don’t have many feelers in the world about what is going on. I get a notification on my phone if something noteworthy is happening, though I block all the news regarding certain billionaires in charge in a country I think is not even real. I listen to some podcasts, and the commentary I get there tells me a lot. One is from an old Dutch historian, Maarten van Rossum. He is over eighty years old, and he has seen it all. He often gets the question if he is not worried about what is happening in the world now, and he laughs about it. Of course, some things are not good, but all the alarm is so dumb (his words). I also remember the Reagan days and the fear we had of nuclear war. I though life as we know it would end, but it didn’t.
I don’t listen to what is happening in America because I am worried; I don’t listen to or follow the news from that place out of some sort of shame. Can you imagine if the Martian came and asked for our leader, and he showes up… it’s just so ridiculous that I have a hard time believing that it is happening.
I also have to say that in between getting up, going to work, being busy with restoring these wooden boats, coming back home, drinking some coffee, making dinner, writing something on my blog, and playing some mindles games while listening to something interesting leaves little room to be worried or feel threatened by the world. Things are safe here in Norway. The doors are still unlocked, and I can’t remember ever seeing the police this year. Most people’s lives are pretty uneventful, and an information overload causes most worries, I think.
In the early eighties, I was worried, but also just 9 or 10. I was worried because my mother was a lefty, and we went to anti-war and nuclear bomb demonstrations. And there were also posters in the house warning about these bombs. I was not worried because I understood the danger; I was told to be worried. If my mother had been a right-leaning conservative, I would probably have felt safe with these nuclear weapons protecting us from the comies, and I would have had an other memory.
There is a big difference between the immediate danger of a real war that is happening around you or if you live in an objectively dangerous neighborhood or the danger you feel because you are spoonfed fear from whatever direction you lean your mouth to.
I recommend looking at your news app only a few times a week but leaving the notification on in case something important happens. No social media except if you only follow family or specific interest groups that are not news-related. Reading books is healthy, and good old-fashioned magazines, even if they are digital, are a good substitute for flashy websites.
Having discussions online or in the real world seems to be interesting, and maybe it doesn’t matter that the social group that influenced you in the past was your family and some friends, and now half the world, but discussions about your opinions are as fruitless as trying to describe the Mona Lisa if you have never seen or heard of it.
And study history. We live in strange times now, but you will be amazed that there have always been periods that were strange and, more often than not, much more dangerous than the time we live in now.

I don’t know if I choose to
look through small and narrow windows
or prefer the wider view from my living room
either way
I will have my routines
after I have moved
again

Is individuality blending in
with yourself within
or to stand out
with your inside
outside
what do we express
when we express

I don’t have to look too hard
to see that I will never fit
through the door you opened for me
I have to bow down
or go on my knees
for you
but to be honest
I would do it for me.

I cannot see if you are home
from where I stand
some distance might work
or you can open up
let in some fresh air
In the meanwhile
I will look for a door

I sit here looking at the bricks
that make up my wall
I think it is only the last layers
that now prevent me from pushing the wall
over
it is the weight of it all
why is it always the last
and not the first bricks
are they not all the same in form
and function

If you look down
the road up is quite transparent
as long as you keep going
and enjoy the steps taken
you will reach a top

I like to look at my reflection
from the other side of the window
from there I can look inside
through my outside
and in the evening
the colors fade
with grey black and white
and something speaks
in forms and forms