It´s hot outside, yes. And I cannot understand them, and what bewilders me is that we are moving on altogether different paths. When I talked to an old mountainbiking friend of mine with whom I made reconnaissance only but recently, he was utterly confused why I was content riding my old battered bike. Of course he owns a pedelec, an enduro bike and a lot of fun stuff to have. He is an avid skier, too, and time was when I enjoyed skiing a lot. No, I freely admit, I can´t afford that anymore, as well as all that other stuff, and while I miss the times it is the attitude of thinking THAT a problem. It is with a hint of nostalgia that I look at these times, and talking to him lets me feel a warm memory as well as pity. Pity for a society that needs to heap up commercial things in order to be happy. One might argue that I discuss my needs away. I am legally poor, of course, there is no denying the fact, and the hard and sorry truth is that it is not easy to make a living the way I try to do it. And when I falter, or become sick, my situation as well as my pride will most certainly lead to my demise. But there´s the trap: I have not yet died. And while I am alack of a whole lot of things, I realized that there are things of far higher value just waiting around the corner. But I could not even make myself understood to this friend of mine, and please take note that I have tried long and hard. I have always tried. But what I realize is that we do not talk on even levels, society and I. People blindly run around like chicken in the slaughtering den. They run from manmade problem to manmade problem, entangled in a cunning trap the nocturnal predators, the rulers of the human world, have set for them, and they go into it voluntarily. Getting away would be so easy and yet they cling to being hurt and anxious and live in fear and awe. Lobbyism is said to be dangerous for our democracy, and I daresay it is, but what I see working with politicians and other oligarchs is that they most absurdly and ridiculously entagle themselves in their own traps. Their actions do not make the slightest of sense; it is all but one big mimickry. I see a war in which we all are engaged, but in the end, it is a laughing matter, a conflict that now is fought for decades and centuries even, over a name. I see prophets of doomsday prosper and yell at each other over details in the schedule when exactly mankind will die. It is like a geese den. The geese squeek and squail at each other and hit themselves over one grain of barley, while outside, the fox, breaks into a wicked grin. The geese are fat and immobile... because the farmer wants them that way. The fox is lean and mean and hungry, and he could not care less for all the squailing and the noise they make. And even if the geese are mean to each other-the other world will break into their slaughtering pen mean and wicked. This is what I see, and refuse to take part.
It is soothing not to talk when talk is not given. It is soothing that the creek runs like it always did. The flowers and the trails and the reeds and the sun tell a story without words, and no words are needed to understand the language of this fairy tale. Only when you understand this language of silence will the gates to the dwarven kingdom open up for you, and they will provide you with riches far beyond gold.
But elf shit will still be smelly. ;-)