Day 2099, thin ice?

Day's pictures

I had this picture of ice on a lake and the bed underneath, and both are not in focus, but it leaves enough to my imagination. I wanted to write something clever about it, but I lost my appetite. I just read a news article about some right-wing nutcases in America with a picture of four guys fully dressed in army fatigues and weapons everywhere. I look at their faces, and I just don’t understand these people; they obviously take themselves really serious.  Personally, I believe that you always have to be critical of the answers you give yourself and the ones others give you. Doubt is not easy, but a militiaman or anti-vaxxer will have never take their stance if they question themselves.

There are billions of opinions, and my only conclusion out of that is that they cannot all be true. Claiming that yours is true is not enough; even a majority can be wrong. God and his claims are also not enough; there are thousands of God’s and even more religions.

For the same reason that we all agree that one plus one is two, we should also search for other truths that fit in that same category. Think about all your opinions; could they be universal, or are they just particular to your situation?

Day 1983, inside.

Daily picture, Poetry

I see you on the TV

in pieces

because he up there

seems to hate you

 

I always thought that we humans share our delight for emptiness and silence. Seeing a landscape while you drive trough the day, your mind goes silent and the noise of the engine disappears. I thought we share these moments, no matter who you are. So why is it that most people can’t bare the silence, and nothingness, that life is? Why does the silence and fastness, where you walk alone inside, be filled with structures, signs where to go, and not? Why don’t we appreciate the silence, and each other’s empty landscape?

Day 1699, a word from me.

Day's pictures, Poetry

In March 2016 I decided to reanimate my photography hobby by starting a project to post each day a picture, something nice, not just a snapshot with my phone. That is now 1699 days ago and I am still going strong. Due to my structured mind where I often get lost obsessively I see no end to this streak. I do not take pictures every day any longer but I still edit one of the pictures I take on a weekly basis, it still counts for me. I still enjoy the process and seeing my journey trough the years, not only where I have been but also what kind of pictures I like to take.

Around a thousand days ago I started writing little poems underneath the pictures I posted. First just random ones but soon they where inspired by the photo that I posted. I often wonder why I write these poems (or what you would call them). I never learned it, I have no family or friends that write poems, I don’t know where it is coming from. The only thing that I can think of is that I don’t have the skills and patience to write my thoughts up in I cohesive way. Picking a few words and some short phrases and putting them in some sort of rhythm goes naturally for me. It tells, in my own head, what I want to say and according to some of the reactions, others seem to understand me every now and then, so I guess it means something.

I wrote a thousand of these short poems and this morning I wondered how much I have been repeating myself, not literally but theme wise. My pictures tell something about me but the things I write about even more. In short, I think I want to tell how I see we humans see the world. The illusion we live in to survive, like the brain that filters all the information of our senses and deliver to us what we need at that moment. So is it also with our world view, it fits our needs. That dance with reality is important for our well-being and as someone that dances to I do also realize that my reality can only be partially true. I imagine that if everybody would realize that their world-view is just that, their world-view, we would have no reason to dispute and fight each other. It makes sense to me and I guess writing these little poems is my way of helping…at the least it keeps me saner in an insane world

This one is from two weeks from now a thousand days ago.

My line is clear where I draw on.

My old strokes washed away.

The truth the mark to stand on.

Till the sharpness fades away.