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Saturday, March 28, 2015

joy and pain

joy and pain
walk hand in hand
to the end of land
until they drown in the sea

the nightingale does not think
she is somebody else,
she doesnt flee herself,
she sings and calls

the fox knows no desire,
he stretches in the sun
or goes hunting,
he doesn't know his colour.

only man needs a name
to call himself by,
never sees who he is,
questions his being

when he reaches out,
he may stumble, fall.
he is used to take
and thinks he rules

well knowing, he does not.
his heart may be kind,
his mind in misery.
entangled in the web

of fate and dreams.
there is no way
but to try forever,
to walk each moment

like a newborn child.
balance is a mystery,
and the earth turms
and turns and turns.


joy and pain
walk hand in hand
to the end of land
until they drown in the sea

ps: one can try other ways...
paths, hope, courage








Beethoven: Symphony No. 3 "Eroica" / Karajan · Berliner Philharmoniker

good night, just as small appetizer



Dire Straits - Sultans of Swing (Lyrics)

ok, let us relax and destroy reality



on the value of ....

a Lady walks in my office.
i have to tell her: yes, you have a cancer growing. she sits there, her face a mask, shell shocked. i try another approach: don't take it so bad. you are not the only one. loads of people suffer from cancer these days, and some do quite well. try to do something nice today.

ps:of course i wouldn't

silence

soon, soon i think,
i can come out of silence
only here.
and it is very silent here.
but i don't want to talk.

as quoted from B.Shaw:
"The single biggest problem in communication
is the illusion that it has taken place."

i was rather looking for communion.

the lack of extension into future and
extension of arms in being is very heavy,
for me.

only shared dreams are reality.

Alan Parsons Project - Silence And I

this is how it will be



David Bowie - Starman



though David Bowie is not my favorite i quite enjoyed this just now





the same walk , light and darkness crossing





this tree of life,
amputated, decapitated,
the roots upside down,
by human violence

of which i thought
i freed myself
but must accept
that i am a part

and here where darkness
grows i see the light,
they flow from the same
source as i do and as you

a walk near Holzelfingen, near home






Benno Koch, photo

Benno Koch, facebook post, photo:


                                                     My name stuck in barbed wire

Who will she be, by: Marysia Wojtaszek

deeply connected to this question
by experience:
who will she be?




"She doesn't sleep. 

Dawn projects life on her walls in the form of temptation.To touch or not to touch, that is her dilemma. To reach out from the comfortable recess of darkness and feel the heat of naked being; to unfold in light; to burn until she bleeds: that is all she desires and all that she fears. 

Who will she be?

If she connects with light, loses all sense of anonymity, becomes consumed with emergence -

Who will she be.

* * *

Poem & Image (C) Marysia Wojtaszek "


(facebok post)

Otis Taylor & Cassie Taylor - Few Feet Away





If the sky fell down
And the moon went out
I'd just be a few feet away from you
If the sky fell down
And the moon went out
I'd just be a few feet away from you

Sometimes, you know you wander
Sometimes, you know they stay
Sometimes, you know they wander
Oh just tell them who I am

Go for a walk
And we sit by the rock
I'd just be a few feet away from you.
Go for a walk
And I sit by the rock
I'd just be a few feet away from you

Sometime you know they wonder
You know they stare
Sometime you know they wonder
Well just tell them who I am

If the sky fell down
And the moon went out
I'd just be a few feet away from you
If the sky fell down
And the moon went out
I'd just be a few feet away from you

Sometime you know they wonder
You know they stare
Sometime you know they wonder
tell them who I am.........


Discovering Marguerite Duras, Yann Andréa Steiner


I had read before L'Amant, seen the film and Hiroshima mon amour.
After all, I am only  a medical doctor , i have not met all good books yet.
But then, this creates space for new and intense experience.

This book is an incredible discovery for me. It touches me so deeply, it is a poem written as a story,
language and mind are so very beautiful, tender and cruelly true.
though i am reading it in German-
the translation must be very good.

I penetrates me deep into my soul.
It is like a dream of something or somebody I know or wish to have known or should know.

The language is clear and simple, the atmosphere is filled with a terrible beauty and sadness,
a caring awareness not of words but of the soul, a condensation of  perceptiveness
as i have rarely met it.

i could not even read it it in one go, i have to let hours pass inbetween.
it moves me to tears and i wanted to save the next pages for a bit later,again and again.
i cannot bear so much beauty for a long time.

a few quotes, in German:

"Ich erwiderte, ich hätte nie Nazis gesagt, um die Deutschen zu bezeichnen. Ich würde weiterhin sagen, manche Deutsche würden ihre Massaker, ihre Gaskammerrn, ihr Töten aller jüdischen Neugeborenen, ihre chirurgischen Experimente an den jüdischen Jugendlichen neimals loswerden. Niemals."

"Schreiben sei für mich wie weinen, Es gebe kein fröhliches Buch ohne Schamlosigkeit. Die Trauer müsse getragen werden, als wäre sie selbst eine Kultur, diejenige aller Erinnerung an den vom Menschen verfügten Tod, wie auch immer er erfolge,
als Strafe oder durch Krieg."


"Vielleicht hat sie überhaupt keine Geschichte."
"Vielleicht, ja. Vielleicht war sie in einen latenten, sanften Irrsinn  verfallen, der sie davor bewahrte, sehen,wissen, verstehen zu wollen. Eine Art Irrsinn der Normalität hat sich vielleicht ihrer Person, ihres Geistes, ihres Körpers bemächtigt."

"Man wünschte , alles besäße die Anmut dieses weinenden Kindes. Es ist die des Meeres, wenn diess Kind es betrachtet."

"Das Kind schaut. Alles schaut es an, das Meer, die Strände, die Leere. Seine Augen sind grau. GRAU. Wie das Gewitter, der Stein, der Himmel des Nordens, das Meer, die der Materie, dem Leben innewohnende Intelligenz.Grau wie das Denken. Die Zeit. Das Gemisch der vergangenen und kommenden Jahrhunderte.GRAU."

"Die junge Frau sagt,  man beschreibe immer das Ende der Welt und den Tod der Liebe.
Sie sieht, daß das Kind nicht versteht. Und sie lachen ganz laut darüber, alle beide.
Das Kind sagt, das stimme nicht, man beschreibe das Papier. Und sie sagt, nun verstehe
das Kind. Sie lachen. Sie sagt auch, wenn es weder das Meer noch die Liebe gäbe,
würde niemand Bücher schreiben."


"Théodora war vielleicht kein Buch.
Dieses Weiß, diese Geduld, dieses dunkle unerklärliche Warten, das war vielleicht zu viel. Diese Gleichgültigkeit war zuviel."








Tom Waits - Hope I don't fall in love with you

i think i don't like this text...but it sounds nice.

and otherwise, what can i do?



from: Bhagavad Gita

Bhagavad Gita (Chapter II, 16-26)

“Man is not born, nor does he ever die. For ever he tries to exist, he will never stop doing this, because this is eternal and permanent.”
“Just as a man casts off his old clothes and starts to wear new ones, the soul casts off the old body and takes on a new one.”
“But the soul is indestructible; spades cannot cut it down, fire does not burn it, water does not wet it, and the wind never dries it. The soul is beyond the power of all such things.”
“As man is indestructible, he is always victorious (even in his defeats), and therefore should never have regrets.”

taken from: http://paulocoelhoblog.com/

Dušan Bogdanović: Cinque pezzi di mare (2013)

Morphine - Sundayafternoonweightlessness

great...for me just now



Runrig - Dust

Otis Taylor Just Live Your Life

whyever not? ~

Love's labours lost, William Shakespeare, Scene 3

“From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That show, contain and nourish all the world."

As you like it, Act V, Scene 1, William Shakespeare

TOUCHSTONE: Then learn this of me: to have, is to have; for it
is a figure in rhetoric that drink, being poured out
of a cup into a glass, by filling the one doth empty
the other; for all your writers do consent that ipse
is he: now, you are not ipse, for I am he.

ps: well,well...it didn't want it like that

Woyzeck, G. Buechner, an interpretation by: Oleg Myrzak (Reutlingen, Gastspiel Theater unterm Dach aus Berlin)




"Jeder Mensch ist ein Abgrund, es schwindelt einem, wenn man hinabsieht." 


a  man prone to compulsive acts caught in social conflict , depending on a cruel need for money and humiliating himself by necessity and by instability of character, young and immature, weak and maybe not so weak, not well educated, again humiliated and insulted as an inferior being by officers, abused as a laboratory animal by  a doctor, rather poisoned and weakened physically and mentally by a diet of peas only, betrayed by his pregnant love who couldn't trust in him  as he had started to hear voices and showed all signs of schizophrenia, the doom dark and burning in the sky:
a drama where in the end only emotions rule, feeding halluzinations, and a man who could only see a way of freeing himself from suffering by self destruction  finding an end with the murder of his love. an act of despair and senseless rebellion.
not only to be seen as political but as an elementally important warning in the spirit of time.
and for me personally an educational experience.

the peformance was excellent, the project can be called a full success.




PS: i quite appreciated the doctor  making his patient depending on drugs, calling them peas...
and Woyzeck declaring that one cannot bear life without drugs, a modern interpretation.

Unfortunately at the time of Buechner really not so few poor people were test persons for a medical experiment which was founded on economic deliberations: can poor people live on a poor diet, cheap peas only, cost efficieny in slavery. 
see link.