Summer 2019. Sun, interspersed with occasional rain showers, enjoying the house and garden, a few day trips with my children and completing the composition of my collection of poems - which I started in January - in a quiet pace of work. That was just about my summer. A fine summer for me. And a nice memory. This person does not need much. My senior's hand is filled quickly.
Reading back all the poems brought me back in time. That wasn't always nice, but as the completion - and with it the overview - approached all the more.
Because overview, I like that. I like to view the world and humanity from a helicopter view; both historical & cultural, and sociological & psychological. And then analyze and study it meticulously on the basis of fact & fiction, good & evil, cause & effect and doing & letting.
In other words, thinking, associating, memorizing & philosophizing are pleasant activities for me. It has always delivered me a lot. What once started out of bitter necessity [survival strategy] has become a true hobby. And writing is a consequence of that.
I consciously put the political situation in the world at a distance this summer. Everything followed through the usual channels and the twitter discussions, but only noted as a given.
Normally I work on it every day. And push me around. I think about what seems wrong to me and why, and delve into what and how things should be done differently in my opinion, and read and see how others think about it. And do it. And take that into account in my considerations and writings. [With reference to the source, because I attach great importance to that. Honor who deserves honor].
But often I worry too much. Especially when I see how things are going in the wrong direction and people respond deaf, blind and numb to reason and compassion. How they don't want to learn from history and imitate a bunch of traditionally elitist family tribes like a headless chicken, hoping to become 'their equal'. As if you should want that.
And if I worry too much, my head rages and my body responds accordingly. That is unhealthy. Especially when it becomes chronic. Like with me. Because dealing well with powerlessness [when I see that something or someone, or society as a group, goes wrong, takes the wrong path, chooses the path of least resistance and takes the shortest turn to success] is an old pain for me. Over the years, many of my brain lines automatically have been led over there. With all its consequences.
That's why I have now decided not to worry so much when I see that things are going wrong. Even though it is painful in my heart when I see how many people fall victim to it. How they perish to elitistically cultivated deadheads who work without their self-critical ability and morals to spoil the [plant and animal] world and humanity. How powerless I am. That I only can continue to vote for the good party and keep warning. Like a cry in the wild-erness that humanity has made of it.
The most challenging assignment I have set myself is therefore: dealing with this powerlessness. With this empathic pain in my heart.
How will I shape that in the coming period? In the form of storytelling. The time has finally come to pick up and polish my old 80s stories. And review all those written dreams. And to link to those countless [often very unpleasant] dreams that I have not written down, but are engraved in my memory. See if I can do anything with that. And all those old plans how to shape that to breathe new life into it.
Let's see what that yields