ON THE EDGE OF REASON

Talking sense…?

In the course of recent months my thoughts have happened to get stuck repeatedly on one phenomenally annoying issue. Actually that is nothing abnormal for a worshipper of blissfully twisted notions and ideas like I have been ever since I used to be a very young girl. I mean I was convinced to be the daughter of Winnetou and Old Shatterhand (hummm…). Consequently I indulged my every whim when it came to the culture of the American Indians. At the age of eight I was crazy about Dee Browns “Bury my heart at the wounded knee” so eventually my poor parents gave in and purchased it for me. As from then on General Custer became my worst and most despised lifetime-enemy and I suffered from terrifying nightmares which I of course never reported for that would have acknowledged the earlier arguments of my parents.

However. THAT was probably all quite normal. I guess even the fact that I wrote a highly dedicated letter to Richard Nixon in which I angrily bristled at his permission to flood an ancient indian cemetery in favour for something I have forgotten. The fact that “my” people were to lose a powerful magic place… NO WAY! I had to contribute to save this emblem of universal connection between the living and the dead. And I did. I mean I did probably not save that place – I am pretty sure that ground got flooded because US Presidents frequently do as they like – but I did write that letter and… well, I signed with my indian name which was – I should but will not apologize for its comical aspects – “WILD SPOTTED PONY”.  I still wonder about that puzzling spotted – bit, and I swear I was not on drugs or optional bizarre substances. But I assume that did not make the cause more successful… And still, I felt grand and unfathomably happy by starting to stand up and out for the Good and the Prescious… Any questions?

And even more important; was it unreasonable to follow a benevolently intended impulse even if of little chance to open out into success? Or is it fine to act that way because reason quite too fequently prevents us from the things we want to to?

I am driven by the pro´s and con´s at night when my mind is floating somewhere in that indecisive trench deviding consciousness from the empire of dreams and just when my mental modulator can´t give a damn about controlling this process of melting status´ any longer… yeee,… there pops up this glitch. My lively, cheeky, smart-alec glitch.

Hey Hey Hey…. Sleep? Nooo noooo. Over-rated! You better move your brains, have ideas, whip your thoughts the other way around Silly! What about it? What about this back and forth all day, all those lifes? Wanna repeat yourself being stupid? Not rethink, re-act, rewind and then upwind from another status? Move it Mama. Now! Time is running. Tic Tac it goes Baby. Ticce – di – tac. Twist! And do it right NOW!!!

So, calm and peacefully falling to sleep has become history it seems and I do as I am forced. I twist my mind. I retwist. Twist. Re-twist. Until there´s loads of nonsense flooding the kingdom of my brain. My temple of neuronal activity is polluted. Contaminated. BUT… that´s step One.

Step two comes as a bloody mental rescue. A cleaner who wipes away all the blood and shredded parts of whatever crime scene and leaves proper ground for the better. Maybe “the shining, unquestionable, immaculate truth” ? Yes. Clear.

If it only made sense. If it only fit in. But it does not. Not here. Do we not succumb to processes and regulations that work well? Can one go and throw all this over board? Honestly; the longer I hang out there in the dark and the more time I spend with that funny glitch of mine… the more I believe:

YES. ONE CAN. ONE SHOULD. ONE MUST!

But can I? Can I be foolish? I remember well that I used to be. And I was fine, felt right, felt light, felt Me. Was that me being naiv and featherbrained? Or was I alright then and am I now system-washed and out of myself?

What about this odd copycat-style I see where-ever I look? Why must we all be someone reasonable, comprehensable? Reproducable indivuduals with traceable, usual, documented behaviour. Why not talk to your friends, family and clients in a new way. Let them travel along on a freeway of wings, a path of satisfaction. Why not? Being light is not about this frightning “Drop-Out thing”. It is not about crashing all concept, values, rules we have been taught. No. But it simply means to turn around for life. For experience. For “Erleben”. That is probably the only good reason in this bizarre state of what-ever named “Life”?

YEEEEH Mama, there you are. Now we talk“, says my grubby clever glitch and I shiver with fear. Every night. Every bloody day as from the fall of the day on I am waiting for it´s dreaded mental blow and I can scent the trail of forbidden chances. Those that I have missed already and those still ahead… shining bright… I wonder. Can we be lead into temptation to follow the unreasonable and be helpful. For others. For ourselves. If I had a wish (at least) I´d  want us all to get free permission issued to become purely, childishly foolishly free hence create again.

Jump and fly. For our peace. For our presence and future. Once again.