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
I see darkness, light burns
a world tilts, it feels
not me, alone
the river nearby, frozen
where I wait to be
carried along
a summer will come
I rest here on last, years
decaying, thoughts
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.
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?
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.
As long as I remember
I get tired of myself
so I must have
endless energy
The latest chance
she watches you go
I watch her go
will I take her
or will she take me later
when I miss her
Your eyes tell so much
But mine nothing to you
You have no words
Only endless feelings
You can read a lot
in whoever's eyes
but look closer
and you only see
your own
Comunication is.
Am I the only one who knows what I am saying?
I am the only one who knows what I am saying?
Do I know what I am saying?
Can you tell what I am saying?
Can you tell what you think that I am saying?
Can you tell what you think I want to say?
Do you care what I say?
Do you just pretend?
Do I just pretend?
To know what I am saying.
I look throught the old window
from outside
and it feels
like I am doing it from the inside
Gekooide dieren
Caged animals
Caged animals
From cage to cage
From institution to institution
From one cage to another I move,
the setting changes, but I do not,
not yet outside where I want to be, outside that cage.
But that world outside might
exist only here inside my head,
as hope without bars.
All those people out there, outside my cage,
I do not despise for their freedom,
but for their carelessness, their lack.
A lack of appreciation for their
cage without bars, their naivety,
their not knowing their own reality.
As a caged being I can say nothing,
I can pace back and forth like an animal,
but I am not able to speak.
As an animal I think in images,
feelings and reactions without words
that teach me, teach me nothing.
People talk and talk and convince
each other, confuse each other that this is so
and that is so, but only with words.
Only with words, hearsay,
from once, from the past, from him or her,
but without feeling.
Feeling that originates from the deepest
of what we all are,
caged animals.
Sunday 25 march 2007
In October 2006, I moved to Norway. It’s been 20 years, so I can be forgiven for not remembering everything so clearly, but aside from that excuse, I had a clear story in my mind about those first few years. This weekend, I read my blog from the first three years in Norway. Well, I didn’t actually read it all; I skimmed over it while I copied the text into a document (103 pages, 80.000 words) and fed it to a chatbot. I asked it all kinds of questions and requested it to show me all the quotes, and I was quite surprised. For the last 10 years, I’ve been writing a lot, and I feel like I know myself pretty well now. Because I think I know myself now, the time before the ten-year mark seems like the dark ages to me. It’s a period where I obviously thought about things. I left many relics behind in the form of books I’ve bought in those dark ages, but in my mind, it all felt pretty trivial.
The blog post was meant for family to read, and for the most part, it’s lighthearted. I talk about the weather, my work, and what I do in my free time. But I was also not afraid to share my feelings about life, myself, and the people around me.
One of my go-to stories when people ask why I moved to Norway is about the book “Nooit Meer Slapen” (Never Sleep Again) by the famous Dutch novelist W.F. Hermans. I read that book around age 16, and I can’t quite explain why it resonated with me, but what it represented stayed with me. I realize more and more how it reflects a part of me, the 16-year-old me, wearing a “Great Pretender” T-shirt, was already more aware than his intellect could put into words. The novel shows that human attempts to find certainty, meaning, and success often fail in an indifferent world where knowledge is unreliable and people are fundamentally alone.
One step after another I walk toward that distant place among the peaks, where tonight the sun will cast its red glow for the millionth time in thousands of fading hues as the earth spins on its path of madness and joy, and I ponder it all the still, crisp air, the next step up and then down, my hand pressed to the earth to feel its reality, not as a dream here, where space widens my happiness and my gaze grows solitary, unburdened by memories of what once was, now both on my way and already arrived, enjoying the company of my past and present, the view of ice shattered into thousands of shards by the tides and the turning of the world, the moon that has watched me for millennia as I seek her before sleep, today’s cold stillness giving me rest before morning’s startled birds and another day in repetition, walking toward the horizon that at dusk bathes my soul in red and steals my breath, resigned to the days ahead and a world that continues without us until the sun reclaims what she gave, and we, as the dust, drift on, perhaps to live again, or next time as a red glow lighting the path of another traveler who does not yet know that the most important thing in life is simply to breathe.
I am build strong
shaping whatever was fed to me
still
I am standing outside now
in clear daylight
for everybody to see
weathering away
When butterflies don’t fly.
Fading away, overwhelmed in lies.
Wings eager, restricted by weeds.
Cracked mud of the soil grades the time.
When butterflies couldn’t fly.
Day 864
Definition by Chatbot: The concept of the individual is not as simple as it appears. It is often presented as a single, distinct human being, defined by unique biological, psychological, and social traits. But this definition is superficial. The idea of the individual as an autonomous, self-determining agent is largely an illusion. The mind does not generate ideas in isolation; it is shaped by language, culture, and education. Thoughts are constructed from what we absorb from others, from the environment, from history. The individual is not a self-contained entity but a reflection of inherited ideas and external forces.
A youngling opens up,
to a world in riddles.
I admire Tolstoy, not because of his work, which I have never read, but because of what he stood for. I believe that when people say it is a fantastic read, I can see it after a few pages; I don’t have the time to read the rest. Too many books lie around that I have started reading or are waiting patiently for my attention. I have the idle hope that one day I will take the time. I found this quote online, well, not this quote, but something similar. The quotes you find online are not always correct, but after some digging, I found the source and read the chapter till I found it. Russians are a mysterious folk; I wish they still were, now they are as predictable as the rest.
“I have met him. But he’s a queer fish, and quite without breeding. You know, one of those uncouth new people one’s so often coming across nowadays, one of those free-thinkers you know, who are reared d’emblée in theories of atheism, scepticism, and materialism. In former days,” said Golenishtchev, not observing, or not willing to observe, that both Anna and Vronsky wanted to speak, “in former days the free – thinker was a man who had been brought up in ideas of religion, law, and morality, and only through conflict and struggle came to free – thought; but now there has sprung up a new type of born free – thinkers who grow up without even having heard of principles of morality or of religion, of the existence of authorities, who grow up directly in ideas of negation in everything, that is to say, savages.
Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina (Part 5, Chapter 9)
You can read the book here: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1399
The Core Themes of My Philosophical Journey
Summary of 10 years of writing by Chat.Mistral and curated by me.
As I reflect on my writings and the recurring ideas that have shaped my philosophical exploration, I see a tapestry of interconnected themes. These themes are not just abstract concepts but deeply personal reflections on what it means to be human, to search for meaning, and to navigate the complexities of existence. Here are the ten most common themes that have emerged in my work, expressed in my own voice and with the depth they deserve:
One of the central themes in my philosophy is the exploration of the nature of reality. I often find myself questioning how we perceive and understand the world around us. This theme involves delving into the complexities of human existence and the influence of our environment on our personal identity. As I’ve written, “The world is complex, much of our thinking is inherited, and certainty is rare.” This idea captures the essence of my inquiry into reality—acknowledging that our understanding is often shaped by factors beyond our immediate perception.
My writings frequently reflect on the essence of being human—the struggles, emotions, and experiences that define our existence. I delve into topics such as the role of visionaries, the impact of environment on mood, and the struggle with depression. These reflections are deeply personal, drawing on my own experiences and observations. In one of my entries, I wrote:
“Humanity learns to walk like a baby does, and what can you teach a baby? You can only encourage it with gestures and sounds because the rest has no meaning to them.”
This passage highlights my belief that our understanding of the human condition is a gradual process, shaped by our experiences and interactions with the world.
The search for meaning is a recurring theme in my work. I investigate the purpose and meaning of life, and how individuals can find meaning in their existence. This theme is central to my philosophical musings and reflections. As I’ve expressed:
“Philosophy gave me a manual for life, and maybe I’m still figuring it out, but one thing it has taught me so far is how to stand without ground beneath my feet, which is very useful if you’ve ever been depressed.”
This idea underscores the importance of finding meaning even in the face of uncertainty and instability. It’s about embracing the journey of self-discovery and understanding that meaning is not always readily apparent but must be sought through introspection and reflection.