The Witch's Brew

This is a new recording of one of my older songs. It's been called many things, and it's been changed a lot and is still changing... I enjoy working with it, enjoy playing the flute. It's a rough little raft, but I enjoy sailing through cold, cloudless nights on it.

For more Miyazaki-inspired artwork please visit: http://www.mioke.de/main.htm . 

You're a crow and you fly

where I want you to fly 

Your claws are the knives of my will

Steal rubies and silver and lay them by my bed 

but who would fall in love with a crow? 

You're a stone and I throw you

in the deepest of waters 

You don't speak but I want you to learn 

Solitude, silence and strictness if your life

but who would pity a stone? 

You're a snake you tell secrets 

everyone already knows 

but are scared to believe in 

you comfort and smile and bring words of glory 

but who would trust in a snake?

Giving Thanks

Carry the tale at the tip of my tongue
that tells of the time that I've spent
Carry the tale at the tip of my tongue
to the ends of the earth and beyond

And I bow lower
ever lower
down to the ground
to where I am bound

Sending my love with all of my heart
to the man that I'll miss ever more
Sending my love with all of my heart
to the girl that I thought I'd become


And I bow lower
ever lower
down to the ground
to where I am bound

Giving my thanks to all of the world
for the ache in my bones as they grow
Giving my thanks to all of the world
for such a magnificent show

I thank all the demons and angels that had me
I know that I've been a good child
And all of the mornings I have yet to wake
I pray they will be as they've been

For all that I know I've been broken and whole
Naked in the light and warm in the dark
Safe in danger, endangered when safe
And all the while
I've been happy
I've been sad
And the drum in my chest
Finds the rhythm in this

So I have no complaints
.

The Use Of Stories

Hm, I haven't been posting anything in a while. Since I've wanted to try to live a life calmly in the shadows, in peace and quiet, I haven't felt much like sharing my thoughts other than in the pages of a hidden notebook. I have also, put away books for a while,  in order to explore the real world around me, to practise the written word in my every-day life, to watch and observe, to analyse and locate theories I have read of being performed. I have a notion, that these periods will come and go. For now again, I have picked up some reading and after finishing "The Never Ending Story" by Michael Ende, I am really eager to dive into some philosophy again. I don't do it for some higher purpose, in search of an ultimate answer, or an ultimate way of living. I just want to live a full life.

Ende is a subtle genius. He is like that brilliant actor that acts in every movie you like, but who plays his  role so well, you never recognise him. I always forget his name because of that, but one sec, I'll look it up.

Ah yes, it's Gary Oldman! Anyway, when first reading Ende's Momo, I thought it was good. Not particularly fantastic, but good. But his words-- maybe it's more of complete concepts-- really grows on you. When I read, I usually make little notes and underline phrases and stuff to retrace the steps of my thoughts and remember what I was thinking while reading, but since I borrowed these books from my sister, I didn't dare to. So exactly what had such an impact on me, I can't say. Basically, I think it's because of his way of objectifying problems, his way of giving moral questions and phenomenons a face, a character and a story that makes his ideas so welcoming to ponder on, to develop. Simply thinking of work as a time-consumer for example, isn't a very exciting thought, because most of us live with it every day. But if you imagine there's an actual thief behind your lack of time; a grey man, dressed in a dull suit, smoking cigars made from petals stolen from your very own stock of time flowers to keep him alive, it all becomes much more exciting. So making simple phenomenons in life into something bigger, something a bit more exciting, by adding some of your own imagination, you will actually see the world with completely different eyes. At least, my life seems a lot more interesting. And it's only because I challenge myself to conjure up silly little stories that explains why I do boring things like brushing my teeth etc. I have also started to think of time as my friend, as a travel companion accompanying me through life, a friend I would not want to part from. Time's way of comforting surpasses any consolation made with words from a human mind. Time is the river that keeps us going on. If we ever feel we are growing into someone we come to dislike, we can disembark that person and wave him/her farewell. Wave until the distance have made him/her invisible to the eye, forgotten and we have become someone else. Time is also an ever growing family. Every day another you is awoken, and you know that if you wake up the next day, you will be in the company of yet another you. That way it goes on and on, until the river reaches the sea, and we dissolve into it. I like the thought.

Reading Coelho

'Aleph' is the second novel by Paulo Coelho that I have read. I never looked for him, were never drawn to the titles or descriptions of his books, and to be honest, when I unexpectedly had one of his books placed in front of me, I found him very bothersome to read. I will try to explain why. 

In one of the most famous of Plato's texts-- the symposium-- Socrates and a gathering of other men takes turns keeping a eulogy for love. When it is Socrates turn, he says that the others have not at all done what they said they would do. Instead of keeping a eulogy for love, they gave love qualities and characteristics it does not have. They romanticized and beautified it all, which made it into something else and, in the end, quite pointless.
       I feel that Coelho is doing just that. It is not 'wrong' to be doing so, not at all. But he strays off far from reason and honesty and explains things he does not understand by mixing God and vague spiritual phenomenons in his writings. Had I not known he has the kind of influence he has over people all over the world and that they look to him as to some sort of spiritual leader, I might have enjoyed reading him more. If he had approached the theories he has in a different way, if he had not tried to give them the approach of a global truth, if he had not let his success rise above his head and had he not called himself-- indirectly-- a prophet*, I might have found his work slightly more worthwhile for its mysticism and artificial beauty. Let me try to explain further. Conviction is man's most dangerous weapon. To be convinced is to stand aiming with a loaded gun with the intention to fire. A weapon is to many something used for destruction and  disruption, while according to the Oxford American dictionary it is "a means of gaining an advantage or defending oneself in a conflict or contest". To me, it is something useful if you desire change. But wether it is the first, second or third, it is quite irrelevant when you put a weapon in the hands of someone who does not know how it works; how you load it, how you pull the trigger, where the bullet goes out, what you are supposed to aim at and why you aim at something at all. Someone who does not know all of this, will cause great and pointless pain. The sense of value and conviction must come with reasonable arguments that we can all understand. Saying things such as "love always triumphs over what we call death. {...} If you don't believe it then there's no reason my trying to explain.", puts a weapon in your hands, if you let yourself be convinced by the above (and it is easy because powerful words are used). But it does not give you the wisdom to use it, nor the wisdom not to use it. Letting faith and belief fill in the blanks and answer questions you can't answer yourself with truth and reason is a good way for yourself to deal with the problem on short terms, but not for others to understand the question asked, if you catch my drift... If you don't, I will probably dedicate a post solely to this topic sooner or later.

 And you will not free yourself from guilt by expecting forgiveness from others. Nietzsche wrote, I think in 'The Gay Science', that:

"Although the most acute judges of witches, and even the witches themselves, were convinced of the guilt of witchery, the guilt nevertheless was nonexistent. It is thus with all guilt."

Forgiveness comes from yourself and is about accepting the present and the situation you are in. Sometimes it is easier to do this with an act of kindness, a word of forgiveness from a loved one, but in the end, it comes only from yourself. And remember that by saying "I forgive the world and all its evils", you are also accepting the world and all its evils, which is all well, but best to be remembered to avoid misunderstandings...

But! Not once yet in my life time have I read a book which has had nothing of value to say to me. 'Aleph' brings up the subject of aikido a couple of times and its teachings of the path to peace...:

"The Path to Peace flows like a river and because it resists nothing, it has won even before it has begun. The art of peace is unbeatable because no one is fighting against anyone, only themselves. If you conquer yourself, then you will conquer the world."

"The Path to Peace appears to be a fight, but it isn't. It's the art of filling up what is missing and emptying out what is superfluous."

And my favorite:

"Train your heart. That is the discipline every warrior needs."

Read 'Aleph' with a light heart. Do not read it if you are looking for answers. Read it if you are looking for adventure in an everyday life full of tedious routines. Just make sure you don't find yourself armed after having turned the last page...

* Right after Coelho had finished his journey on the trans-siberian rail road (which is what the book is about), he was summoned to Moscow to meet Vladimir Putin who had heard of his adventure. The conversation that was held bothers me a great deal. There was nothing of any value in it. Why was it so important for Coelho to meet Putin if it was only to chit-chat? 

Dancing On The Edge

Run far from here. 

I take back all I said. 

I dance on the edge.

I wish that I would fall.

Hör Hur Rösterna Tystna

"... the lines told stories that were sometimes clear, but most were at best obscure and as vague and pale  as twilight. They told stories from the precariously fine border dividing life from death, blurring the line itself and finally erasing it. Ages and times were mixed in confusion, as were peace and war."

- The Sorrow of War

Adventure: I Wish The World Would Be Silent Now

Day Three

"I wish the world would be silent now. I wish man would be silent at night. At least out here, where the trees rise dark against the sky. 

I wish my heart would be silent now. A yellow moon rises, shines and whispers: "Shush, worry not, be still. I will be here all through the night. Be still, worry not."

The torch is going out, the moon hides behind the trees. An owl hoots in the dark.

I played a few songs 'til the sun had set. I am still playing now, though silently, only plucking a few strings, my voice remains silent. I realize this is my real audience, the audience my songs were written not only for, but actually by. They are my inspiration; water, rock, sky and of course the majestic crowd of pine, oak, ash and elm. They reflect man, they speak of man, as no man can and never will. They are not afraid or prefer not to be reminded of dark and wretched things. These listeners care not. They absorb the music and leave only silence. That is their applaud. Silence. And the beauty of their constant presence.

The moon broke its' promise and went away. I have no light. It is time for me as well to rest. The world is silent now... Save for some engine growling on a farm somewhere, ordered by man to never rest... "

Adventure: An Old King's Garden

Day Two Part Two

The crossing to the next harbor, was peaceful and without events worth mentioning. The eastern wind still accompanied me, the sun came out occasionally as if to make sure that I was still safe and sound. After only five hours, I reached the harbor of Mariefred. The little village was truly beautiful, humbly lying there so close to the great castle of Gripsholm. I think it's worth mentioning now, that wherever I went, I had the smallest boat of all, a twenty feet Hydra. In Mariefred, thirty-two feet was considered small. Now, this also said something about the standard cost of living there. I am by no means, poor, or from a poor family. But being young, without a job and with a desire to live as cheap as possible to save money for the future, Mariefred was a bit too expensive for me. The dock due was thrice as high as it was on Björkö. But when I had paid it, and eaten a royal dinner consisting of mushroom flavored noodles, a carrot and a glass of simple and cold water I felt like a queen sitting there gazing at the castle on the other side of the bay. Restrengthened and in high spirits, I set out for a walk again. I went through the city to the library, the bookshop, the market, the grocery store (to buy some plastic bags), round the church, then walked by the pier to make my way to the castle. When I stood by the foot of its' walls looking up, the only thought that came to me was "oh my, I would't have wanted to be the one to build this", thinking of the house under construction I had left at home. Tearing down the roof of that  house took thirty hours of work to finish. Thirty hours of work with blood, sweat and many sighs of monotony boredom. Hell, building a castle like the one before me must have felt like a never-ending task.

I kept walking. Behind a school, on the other side of a high fence, I found a forest of old oaks. Many times had I dreamt of sitting down under an oak, leaning my back against its' majestic stem, but I had never done it. So I simply hurled myself over the fence to the other side and did just that. I don't know for how long I stayed there, blinded by the setting sun and the dazzling beauty of green hills, white meadows, golden grass...

I walked further into the forest, and found a steep hill of rock. I could not resist climbing it. Death was my little sister, I was mocking her playfully, balancing on the edge of all I knew. One day, she'll want her revenge, all little sisters do. But this day, I triumphed. This day, I had magic.

Suddenly I had strayed off to the edge of the forest. A wide yellow meadow swayed in front of me. In the middle of it, three shimmering crab apples grew. A bit further out I saw a rock as wide and high as I am tall. Curiosity grabbed hold of me once more. I walked there, with the grass stroking my cheeks as I made my way. I stood in front of it,but could only just make out a few letters, a few words. I had to touch it and feel the letters in order to understand the full message. The stone told me the forest, the meadow, everything I had just walked through and seen, had long ago been a garden for a  now long dead king. He used to hunt deer within the area, which explained the surrounding fence. 

Anyone can discover these magic places. The only thing needed is a good pair of shoes, a will to walk out the door and then just keep going. Walk to places you haven't been before. Allow the world to toss you around. Get a little bit lost.

Adventure: Speak Softly

Day Two Part One

I woke up early the next day, at five, ready for whatever trials the new day had in mind for me. But when I stuck out my head to greet the morning, the day still seemed to be sleeping. There was no wind,  no sound, no motion. Everything was quiet and calm. Seeing it sleeping so sweetly, I did not want to wake it. So I decided to take a walk. I had not been on that island before, I knew nothing about it. So the things I discovered swept me a bit off my feet. I had not gone far when I saw some roof tops hide in the green a few yards away from me. I found a small village, or maybe more of a dwelling- for vikings. The sight tickled my imagination, and I dissolved. Right there, on the spot, I evaporated. 

And like a mist, I felt my presence flood out over this place built to reawaken the past.

As I left it, a new idea took form in my head; the house I am going to build in the future, is going to be built in that style. Heavy with that pleasant idea, the mist sunk a little into the soil where the houses were built and left a piece of me there.

It was still early, the restless stroll continued. I came to a crossroad. Two signs pointed two opposites directions. To the left was "The Black Earth", to the right "The Chapel Of Ansgar". I shrugged my shoulders. It didn't matter, I would have time to see both. I took the track leading to The Black Earth. A shadow rose on the hill as I made my way up. It was the shadow of a cross. It was a cross risen in the honoring memory of Ansgar, the man who first spread the word and preaching of Christianity to our country. A shiver went down my spine. Dark, are my thoughts on medieval christianity... But, turning around, the sight I met took my breath away. A soft green sea of grass, flowers and little tubby dark green bushes billowed away in the distant, starting just by the tip of my toes. A golden cross (in contrast to the shadow behind me) on top of a building that looked like a port gate for giants, seemed to be calling on me from the other side of a field of wheat. I remembered the other sign...

I left The Black Earth without looking back. I found my own path to the chapel alongside fields and old barns. Life lurked behind every thistle, turn and stem. Pheasants and snakes fled into the high grass as they heard my steps approaching, beetles shimmering like pearls of oil and frogs crossed my way more than once, sparrows swung to and from as they landed in fields of oat to feast on insects hiding there. I felt so completely at peace, so warm. I think I wore a constant smile, but who's to know? No one was there to see it. I felt at peace.

I reached the chapel. A sign read "Walk carefully, speak softly". Rows of empty benches were placed out in front of three enormous black gates. Behind them, I guessed, would be the altar. In the middle gate hung a thick rope. It lead to a large bell high above. I pulled it slightly, and saw the bell start to sway. But, I remembered... The day was still asleep, the past still present. Out of respect for ghosts that once were alive and used to come here to praise a God they loved whenever that bell would toll, I let go of the rope, and let the chapel continue its' slumber.

Adventure: Anchors Aweigh!

Day One

Summer had almost gone. It has passed without traveling, without one visiting my friend nature even once. Instead I had been demolishing and constructing parts of a house. Don't misunderstand me, it really has been one of the best summers I have had. Coming home after work, covered in paint and dust, I sort of felt as if I had been the day itself, newborn in the morning, old and torn in the evening. But something was missing...

With a heart trembling of anxiety and hunger for adventure I one day simply decided: anchors aweigh! It is my third year with the boat I bought three years ago, and not once have I gone to sail for more than a day. Well, it took me a while to transform it from this...

... to this...

But after thorough scrubbing, painting, sewing and planning, it's actually a boat that is at least, as good as any other boat. A journey starts with taking a first step, so I did, and planned a four-day journey. After I had left behind the first cape, I felt a fine stream of clear air flow through me. My veins were filled with the cleanest air, gusting away worries, thoughts, aching bones and time- the past and the future, leaving only the present. Clean, clear, transparent, I swept over the lake as the wind blew steady from the east. Away and away I blew as the sun set leaving the sky bleeding, the clouds trumpeting a silent farewell for the day that would never come again. But dark, it was not, for life went on. The eternal journey of the clouds would go ever and on and on. Being there in that moment, I felt that I would too, go ever on and on. The wind blew me lazily on waters shifting in copper  to my first harbor: Björkö. As soon as I had moored at the pier, I felt the light dim over the horizon to my adventure. I grew tired and was, a bit violently, rocked to sleep as the wind had caused a slow rumbling underneath the surface of the lake...

Who Is The Good Man?

(Inspired by several of Plato's texts, mainly Gorgias.)

The mentality of social darwinism that made the 20th century into a living hell for many worldwide, existed in ancient Greece as well. In Plato's essay "Gorgias", Callicles declares how he thinks laws and conventions are made for the weak, and how the stronger is being held back by them. The stronger who have resources to gain more, profit more and rule better than the laws allow, are cast under a spell that make them believe that equality and moderation is of good nature, which, according to Callicles, is not correct. I am sure that many share his opinion today, it s a problem that we still have-- I say problem because it has a lot of painful consequences for many. This is how good old Socrates handles it:

He questions Callicles' reasoning about the weak and the strong. If the weak are able to hold back the strong, does not that mean that the weak are actually stronger than the strong, at least together (a classic comment)?But who would be most suitable to rule a society? The good man. And who is the good man? The happy man. And who is the happy man? Not those who have more than others, but those who are capable of ruling themselves as well as ruling others. Crazy old man, Callicles thinks. What does Socrates mean? He means that we must restrain desires in order to be happy. Callicles protests and says that satisfying desires is what differs the strong from the weak, those who can satisfy their desires are stronger than those who can not. It is out of jealousy  that the weak majority despise the strong and what is actually right-- which is that and doing whatever you have the resources to do and doing it because you can. This is when things become interesting. Is having desires a good or bad thing? To make things more simple, Callicles and Socrates agrees that pleasure is good, pain is bad. Is being thirsty a pleasure or pain? Is feeling the need of scratching yourself a pleasure or pain? It is painful, yes? It is not until your desires are satisfied that they become a pleasure. Drinking when you are thirsty is undeniably a pleasure. But scratching yourself when your body itches can become painful, if the itch does not go away and you scratch until you start to bleed.
          This particular argument I find very interesting and adaptable in the discussion about who would be most suitable to rule a society. Because what causes the problems in our world? Doing things because you can without really asking yourself why you do it* (this is my opinion, I'm open for discussion). I'll admit that it does feel good to have money in my wallet, but why does it feel good? Because then I can use them to put other desires at ease. Now, to use my money to ease my hunger or thirst and hinder myself from falling ill, it is a good thing, yes? But having a lot of resources I might start eating more than I need or actually want, more than what is good for my well-being, and maybe I will start drinking things that does not actually slake my thirst at all but increase it, like wine, beer or some other alcoholic drink that makes you desire more and other things.
          So satisfying desires whenever they show up for whatever they may be does not make you a happy man, even less of a good man. For satisfying some desires leads to more desires than you started out with. And what is the point with earning money to earn more money? And power, is not that too a desire? Is not that what Nietzsche says defines man kind- the everlasting want and need of power? How do you still that desire? By ruling. If one rules for the sake of slaking one's desire for power, that is doing something just because you can, and will only fuel more desires. Desiring things is painful. Pain is bad. Unless it is balanaced with its' opposite, which it can be if you know why you are doing what you are doing. So reasoning this way does make moderation a good thing, but does it do the same with equality? I think it must be considered from a different angle... No, this text does not fully answer the question in the title, but maybe it gives us a model with which we can test different characteristic's quality.



* Having more resources than you need means great responsability and thoughtfulness. Plato mentions, not only in 'the Republic' I should add, that a  society with many luxuries is ill and feverish, for it is rich in things we do not need (even though I can not agree with what he defines with things we need and things we do not need). The duties that comes with being 'the people' in a democracy does not only include taking part in elections but also helping our governments to resist the temptations they undeniable stand before every day.

A Change That Is Consistent With What Matters

I admire, and actually sometimes even envy, people who have a strong opinion about how society should be shaped; people who have something to fight for, and who have a strategy for it. I have written about it before on this blog, about the fact that I let myself float around, get tossed, turned, ignored, denied, proved wrong, proved right-- in other words: I welcome change. I enjoy analyzing situations and problems, but rarely find anything persistent, something I think should not change. There are of course a few things, that I fight for as well. There are things that I believe in, and I have concrete ideas on what I can do to help the world reach and sustain those things. But when it comes to politics and mobilizing people with rules and laws, I find it very hard to know what to do. There's a lot of "on-the-other-hand" reasoning going on in my head when discussing politics. There are too many factors to take into consideration. 

       
The reason for that is people. We have the exquisite ability of manipulating the truth. Often we do so because of our feelings. And those feelings are rarely interpreted and considered carefully by its operators. So very often--if not always-- a person who tells a lie, does not know that he or she is telling a lie. This causes a problem: it will be very hard to understand what it is that people want and need. It takes time, to understand another person. And so, I believe that the most effective way of solving a problem is dealing with it yourself to whatever extent possible, solving it locally and not by making a decision that will be carried out on the other side of the world by people we do not know and who have not been part of making this decision. When we put it in our governments hands to handle things...  Well. Things often get out of hand.What I have concluded so far in my life, is that whenever man divides herself into "us" and "them", there's been a misunderstanding, and a question too big to grasp has been asked and will not resolve in a reasonable answer, until the chaos born from it has given room for concord.

        People are good at having feelings, and often we let our feelings run away with us. Psychology has discussed a lot wether our thoughts evoke our feelings or if it is the feelings that evoke our thoughts or if it might be a mix between the two. I am fascinated by buddhism and their teachings of how you can learn to control your body manually, by mind power. I do not only mean control and restrain your feelings, but also actually control your organs functioning and thereby also your body heat, your need of food, water and sleep. I do not mean to say that I believe that this means we can all be superhumans, we are all still limited by our bodies. But, there are limits on different levels I think. Because we are being taught that so many things are impossible or work in a certain way, we do not find it necessary to look for alternatives. We can watch a movie, or listen to a piece of music, or read a poem and be overwhelmed by feelings. That is because of our imagination, empathy and connection with the world around us. It's all make-believe really. Reality as we know it, can only be percieved by the means of which we've been given when we were born into this life, into this body. So when you sit outside in the freezing winter, waiting for that bus that will take you home or to work-- why wouldn't it be possible to imagine that you're actually indoors, sitting by a warm fire, and thereby raise your body heat (this is an example described in the journal of Alexandra David Néel on her crossing to Tibet)? We are of course, to some extent, dependent on the physical warmth that fire gives in a situation like this. But we are a creative specie, and we can, reconstruct the warmth a fire gives by the power of our mind, even if it is only a little, just as we can look at a landscape, and then paint it on a piece of canvas.

By reflecting a lot more than we do now on why we feel when we feel, both abstract feelings-- love, hatred, anger, fear, curiosity-- and physical ones-- pain, drowsiness, hunger, thirst--, well we might first of all find that, the difference between the two, is not very big. Then we'll find that, no matter why we feel what we feel, we can channel our feelings and project them in desired directions. If we can, by the power of our mind, control (or be aware of) how our vital body organs function, I am sure we can also learn how to control our feelings and thoughts. Now, if we were to become the masters of our bodies in this way, why wouldn't we be able to control our actions on a higher level as well? In order to learn how to control ourselves to that extent, we have to get to know ourselves and our surroundings very well. As we do that, we will have to ask ourselves what really matters to us, and that way, our actions will be consistent with it.

Mind Me

Mind me

I'm a lighthouse 

can't sleep while you're not safe

Made of stone 

I can't feel love 

and darkness light my fires 

Morning hastes

Time tears my walls down

Grow me

I'm your garden 

won't talk until you've sown 

Made by light 

you can't touch me 

the warmth would burn your skin 

Night calls

Time makes me feel reborn

Asking 'Has Man A Future?'

(This post was inspired by the book 'Has man a future?' written by Bertrand Russell. This post will be the first of two or three parts, of which this first one will be an introduction to the contents of the book and the questions it made me rise. In the second part, in a later post, I will attempt to answer the questions put the best I can by reasoning and presenting more of those little nasty things called 'facts'.)

I remember my physics teacher once saying "the atomic bomb is one of the greatest inventions in the history of mankind. It put an end to war". What I had completely missed, was that a weapon 2500 times as powerful as the A-bomb was developed and manufactured soon after the invention of the mentioned bomb of mass-destruction: the H-bomb. The cold war, was a scientific war, and a war of nerves. The fear of the weapon that could obliterate whole nations in a few blows, tempted governments that owned them in their war mongering, but frightened them as well, knowing that their enemies would have them too. Extreme luck, was what saved the world from disaster then. For more than once, satellites, and once even the moon, were mistaken for foreign missiles and the preparation of firing nuclear weapons begun but was miraculously stopped just in time.
       But have nuclear weapons really put an end to war?

It is hard to know where to begin. The little black book, on merely 130 pages, was an incredible page turner for me. To dig right into the mind and mentality of someone who lived during the cold war was not at all how I had expected it to be. Russell writes with the same kind of darkness and pessimism as George Orwell and Aldous Huxley which is typical for the time. He mentions 'universal death' and once even expresses a doubt that what he had written would ever have time to be published before mankind had destroyed itself in the rain of nuclear bombs. The despair and hopelessness one feels as he explains how the scientific war triggered a mad production of weapons and the hunt for the most powerful weapon there would ever be-- the doomsday machine-- is overwhelming. How it must have felt like mankind had always only been a creature of evil, a lost case from the beginning, driven by the madness of greed and fear, longing for death, running hastily towards the very fire that would destroy her.

As Russell's book that I have just read, wasn't published later than 1961, the book says nothing about the cuban missile crisis. When reading about all the horrors of the first, second and cold war and the unbelievable actions of man, I got shocked the first time I read about the agreement between Kennedy and Khrushchev that stopped a nuclear war an inch from its outbreak. To think that two super powers such as the US and what was then the USSR would actually keep their heads cool in such a tense moment is, I think, one of the most admirable fantastic happenings in history.  So it wasn't just desperation and naivité that made Russell dare to express hope in the darkest of hours. He wrote:

"... as yet hope is possible, and while hope is still possible, despair is a coward's part."

In a brilliant statement published in 1955 he says:

"Here then, is the problem which  we present to you, stark dreadful and inescapable: Shall we put an end to the human race; or shall we renounce war?"

How simple does not the choice seem when the alternatives are put in this way? But however simple he makes it sound, it is not simple to abolish war and that is what he meant must be done. There were severals steps that had to be taken, according to Russell, and none of them were easy or risk-free. He speaks for a world-government, a government that would concentrate all military power to one nation--the world. A military power that would scare war mongering minorities of mobilizing or easily strike them down- should they ever dare to raise an uproar. Each unit would consist of mixed nationalities, colors and languages, so that the instinctive social cohesion would not be turned against nations, races or cultures. 

       Further on, the money spent on and earned by the means of warfare would have to be replaced by exportation and importation of energy: oil and uranium. 

       Children would in school have to be taught to be more open to opposition, despise war and grow a loyalty and trust towards their government that would not easily be questioned. And for those who'd feel that a world without war, would be a dull world, they would have to get their desire for adventure satisfied. For:

"it must be admitted that, in the world as it is now, many people lead very uninteresting and circumscribed lives, and some among them feel that at last they are able to do something of importance and find relief from boredom and monotony when, in the course of war, they are transported to distant countries and have a chance to see ways of life other than that to which they are accustomed at home. I think that provision should be made for adventure, and even dangerous adventure, in the lives of such of the young as desire it."

These young men (and women, I guess), should, according to Russell, have the opportunity of joining scientific expeditions which would include the disciplines desired in the military; co-operation,  obedience and responsibility. 

Before I start evaluating the outcome of these ideas, I find it important to mention what Russell himself says: 

"In a stable world such as we are envisaging, there could be in many ways a great deal more freedom than there is at present. There would, however, be some new limitations on freedom, since it would be necessary to inculcate loyalty to the international government and to curb incitements to war by single nations or groups of nations. Subject to this limitation, there should be freedom of the Press, freedom of speech and freedom of travel."

Now that I have provided you with some facts and ideas on the matter, it is time to formulate the questions I will answer in a later post.

- What is war to man?
- Have nuclear weapons put an end to war?
- Were nuclear weapons what stopped the cold war from turning into the third world war?
- Do nuclear weapons have the potential of putting an end to war in the future?
- How far have we gotten in Russells plan of abolishing war, and will his scheme work at all?
- Russell also argues that science is what makes the threat of universal death reality and almost divides mankind into two species; a scientific and a non-scientific. Considering this, what role does science play?
- And finally of course: 'Has man a future?'

Science and Imagination

(Inspired by 'The journey to the centre of the Earth' by Jules Verne)

Oh, how I detested physics in secondary school. I abhorred every minute of it. Mostly I chose to be absent those classes, and when I did attend, I did it with such disrespect that I forced myself to fall asleep. Why did I do this? Because I was a romantic. I was a romantic that would not let my imagination be limited by facts, truths and other such silly things. 'Why would anyone want a correct answer to how a rainbow is shaped?' was one of the questions I asked myself.

It did not take long for me to realize that by acting this way, I gave science more glorification and justification than it actually deserves. By accepting science as the ultimate truth I was fooling myself. Philosophers know that in order to decipher the largest questions, one has to start small. Very small. Scientists work in the exact same way, but far from always with the same humbleness. Their enthusiasm affects others and gives science a sort of religious approach.

 I can not help noticing how people relying a lot on science, have a very square perspective on life. It might not be a bad thing though. There must be such dedicated people in order to bring science forward. Meanwhile there will always be others of a more creative and romantic disposition to question, interpret and develop facts and turn them into tools. As a romantic, one can adopt scientific facts and convert them into tools. One learns something perceived to be a fact, and then figures out in which ways it can be used and for which purposes. Jules Verne did this, just to mention one.

 Right now, I am reading 'Has man a future?' by Bertrand Russell and he says this:

"One of the troubles of our age is that habits of thought cannot change as quickly as techniques, with the result that, as skill increases, wisdom fades."


Science is a good, brilliant, mindblowing thing. It has given us knowledge that leads to questions we have never asked ourselves before. But we must remember, that it is still in its infantry and many times it has acted naively, foolishly and advanced too quickly without any thought of the following consequences (here, I find it necessary to mention though, that according Russell, scientists do often consider consequences and he says that it is the ones that orders the experiments-- politicians, entrepreneurs, patients etc.-- who care only about what they can gain from the results and not about what it will actually lead to in the long run).   For hundreds and hundreds of years, man has lived without science and asked the most wonderful questions and by the power of the mind given answers to them that science has approved of hundreds of years later. This indicates, that our most powerful tool to obtain knowledge, is actually our imagination.

Reading Austen

It has now been three days since I finished reading Emma, my first Jane Austen novel. Somehow, I can not settle my mind on a topic inspired by the book to write about. There are many things to admire with the book. First of all, the exemplar I have, is beautiful in itself. Open whichever page you may, and it will not try to bend back or skip to another page impatient of showing its' brilliance. The pages are thin and delicate, the  print small. It invites the reader to read with a light heart, with no concern of time; an oasis in every day life.
       The story is not complicated, nor is the message. It is the story of a well-bred young lady's life in the society of the 18th century. And that is that. Beautiful language (a lot of pretty words that makes your dictionary come to use in a satisfactory way), a portrait of the contemporary life and social intrigues makes this book. Although Austen is not really my genre, I can't help being charmed by the elegant and amiable characters this book consists of. So much kindness, eloquence and peacefulness. There is no real hatred or even argues between the characters, only temporary disputes that resolve in deeper understanding and closer relationships between them.


So... How did the book affect me? Well. During the two weeks I read it, my english must have been horribly spruce and snobbish. 18th century english simply does not fit in the society of the 21st. Sadly. I also thought of how fantastic it would be to be a woman of Emma's (the main character's) wealth and time. She did not work, felt no pressure of doing so since equality did not yet have that meaning, nor did she cook or clean or wash or have children.. She could just read, write and paint however much she wanted. I certainly wouldn't say no to that. Although being addressed as follows would annoy me a great deal:


(Emma's father has heard that his acquaintance Miss Fairfax has, god forbid, been out fetching the post in the rain and reacts likes this:)

"I am very sorry to hear , Miss Fairfax, of your being out this morning in the rain. Young ladies should take care of themselves. Young ladies are delicate plants. They should take care of their health and their complexion. My dear, did you change your stockings?"

Funny, isn't it? I am convinced that Jane Austen herself was quite amused of the many peculiarities (such as what I just mentioned) of her time, and that she added them in her novels simply because she thought them funny. I did actually laugh a lot when reading this book. 

Here are some other memorable quotes from the book: 

"Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken…"

"I do not know whether it ought to be so, but certainly silly things do cease to be silly if they are done by sensible people in an impudent way. Wickedness is always wickedness, but folly is not always folly. It depends upon the character of those who handle it."

The People I Don't Know

I don't know why I yesterday was so perceptive of things I otherwise don't notice at all. I was on my way from school to my mother's work to discuss philosophy with one of her colleagues who had a few years ago studied at a university I am thinking of applying to. I was in a cheerful mood (knowing that I wouldn't have to be back at school in one and a half week) when I turned a corner and the sun and the warmth of it, hit my face and all the sounds-- the engines of the many cars, the buses, the sound of feet against the asphalted streets, cell phones ringing and receiving text messages, air planes in the sky above, automatic doors to shops opening and closing, money being withdrawn, conversations being held, pages being turned in news papers... I was no longer in a cheerful mood. In fact, I was in no mood at all. I was just a receiver, nothing but five senses. I turned my head right, and there sat a woman, wrapped in a blanket, with a paper cup in her hand. She was not of the common beggar kind. She didn't seem at all miserable or trying to look like it. No, she held out her cup, smiled and sang a tune and said hello to everyone who met her eyes. A picture flashed through my head, in which I sat down with her, sang with her and held out my own paper cup. We weren't waiting for coins, but for the rain to fall. And everytime it would, we would drink up what was in our cups and then resume our observation of the world hurrying past us.
     I kept walking and soon found myself on the subway, musing over what I had just experienced. After a while, I felt a pair of eyes staring intensely at me. I was tempted to stare back, but feeling that this was someone not clean of drugs, I did not. The next station, however, the person switched seats and sat down beside me. He said "hello" and held out his left hand for me to shake. I greeted him back and shook his hand and observed this poor man's features for the first time. He looked like he came straight from a horror movie, his eyes narrowed, you could only just see something red in them, no other color. From them, fell tears not of sadness but from the strain of keeping the eyes open. His teeth were a brownish yellow and he wore a wicked smile, the kind which is used frequently in horror movies. 'Evil', was the first word I came to think of, and yet I was not afraid. Not until I tried to pull back my hand and the man wouldn't let it go. I calmly explained I was getting off at the next station, he said he was getting off too and asked me where I would go after I had gotten off. I said I would take the bus.
"Which bus?" was his reply.
I told him which and he replied:
"I'm taking it too."
 To my surprise, I laughed and said:
"Oh really, what an incredible coincidence!"
To this, the man's grip of my hand softened, as well as his expression. 'Unfortunate', was instead the word forming in my head now. At the next station, I helped him get off and then we parted, each in our own direction, waving each other good bye.
     After I had had the meeting I had set out for, I headed home. On the subway, I sat beside two girls of my own age. They were discussing something vigorously and, not being able to focus on the book I was reading, I listened to what they were saying. Apparently they had some day before set out in a group to vandalize and scribble on a commercial for a tv-show they found offensive, in order to make others take note to the offense and report it. They had also made sure to collect money within the group so that the expense of removing the scribbles would be covered by themselves, after the commercial had been charged. Their mission had apparently been successful and they were quite pleased with themselves, one could tell. What a creative way to solve a problem peacefully!

It is only a few days of the year I become so evidently aware of all the people I don't know. This was one of them.

Conspiracy, Creativity and Concerns

(This post is inspired by the book "Robotfolket" written by Mats Sederholm & Linda Bjuvgård.  To me, the most important thing with the book, which is also the main reason to why I would recommend it, is that it introduces a way of changing circumstances effectively, other than by politics which is often a slow process and far from always effective. ) 

- The world is run by an elite consisting of members of the Illuminati, the Bilderberg Group, Freemasons and other secret societies.
- The unions, such as the european and african, are milestones on the way of creating a world government; a plan that has since long been on display in order for a small group of people to gain complete power over the rest of the world.
- Epidemics, global warming, the threat of terrorism and financial crises are all ways for the already mentioned elite to seize control; "Divide et impera" (divide and rule).

Are you familiar with these assertions? I think you are. At least with one or two of them. I was too, when I started reading the swedish book "Robotfolket" (unfortunately it has not yet been translated into other languages). The book was given to me with the intention to give me a sort of soft introduction to this alternative perception of reality. Because there are indeed many spokesmen of these conspiracies, that are far too extreme in their views for someone who has never been in touch with them before (David Icke for example, just to mention one) and will not but frighten those who otherwise could have learned something from it. I have always had an interest in these alternative point of views. My own intention, however, has never been to let myself be convinced of one thing or another, but to become aware of the many perspectives that exist, in order to see the world,  not with clearer eyes, but with a wider field of vision.
        This book is excellent for those who want to know more about on which grounds the conspirators form their theories and how the term conspiracy often is a result of not only wild imagination and in many ways also inspiring creativity, but also serious concern for the world that surrounds us. For as far as I can see, the errors the authors of the book find in society, I find too. But my reasons for their existence might not correspond with theirs'. Here is one example and my evaluation of it:

Pills to reduce feelings of depression and difficulties with sleep and concentration are taken to, what may seem like, an unhealthy extent today. Why?

- The book argues that it is because of a deteriorating public health, caused by stress, which in turn is caused by unreasonable demands made by society. Just as it is bad to temporarily force down a fever with an aspirin in order to be able to keep going to work, it is bad, if not even worse, to take a pill to remove the symptoms of too much pressure in order to keep going on with the lifestyle that brought you into the unhealthy condition in the first place. The body shows clear signs of something being wrong. In many cases pills are short-term short cuts to keep managing the every day life, the every day life that obviously isn't quite as it should be. I suppose this is how the book wants to tell us that the power elite has found yet another way to easier control us. Something is wrong.  But we do not have the time to question or to dig for the roots to our problems. We do not have to do that. It is hard and will take a lot of time which will cost a lot of money. It is much easier and cheaper to just go to a doctor and get a prescription for Ritalin and be done with it.
       Now, what we have to consider is: are we really under more pressure today than we were before? Do you think people generally had less to worry about a hundred or two hundred years ago? If it is so, it might be a sign that we're moving towards something that is not of a good nature (be it a world government or something else). But, I think not. At least I do not think it is a dramatic difference although it of course varies slightly over the years. People who lived before might not have lived the same hectic lives as  we are, but they probably had other factors that caused them to feel the burden of too heavy a load. The difference is that today we have pills, and they are very easy to come by. Today it is more or less of a trend, to take medicines that we do not really need. And yes, in Sweden it could be said that it is forged by 'authorities', since the government sold out and privatized  the pharmacies which causes them to compete more, which makes them more of a candy shop for the body, or a fashion shop for the mind and character, than an actual pharmacy existing to support the ill.
     But in the end, it is up to you and me and not someone you perceive to be above you to decide wether you are going to keep doing something just because everybody else is doing it, or, if you are going to look for the reasons to why everybody is doing it and then judge if it is right to be doing so or not. Let us not forget the wit of the witty Anatole France: "If a million people say a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing." If you start to look for the reasons for people taking pills and not early stop the chain of "whys", you might end up asking yourself questions like why you admit to unreasonable working conditions. Or why you admit to let a specific grade in school classify you as smart or silly. Or why you spend hours stuck in traffic at rush hour losing that precious time of yours, instead of taking the bus that would have either given you time to do things on your journey other than keeping an eye on the stuck traffic or get you to the place you were supposed to get to much faster... Why do we let norms limit us?

This is only one of the questions conspiracy might lead you to. With a bit of creativity even the most wild and crazy assumptions about the world can become a matter of concern. After all, it is not wrong to assume the worst. That, those of us who have studied traffic knows well. A driver is told to always assume the worst, because some day the assumption might be correct, and that day you will be better prepared. But it must also be said, that just because the assumption might some day be true, you must not be afraid of moving forward or forget to enjoy life.

A Tribute To William Blake

A few weeks ago, we started a literature project in school again . The theme was british authors which made me slightly disappointed since I was then passionately reading Thoreau's Walden and didn't want to put him away. In class we were handed out a list of authors, sorted chronologically, and my eyes got stuck, of course, on William Blake.

Blake is a friend that I had forgotten I had, but when I started reading his work again (bits and pieces of 'The Marriage Of Heaven And Hell'), I was once again overwhelmed by the power of his wit. It was at least 3 years ago since I last read him, and reading him now, I understand that he has in many ways, shaped my way of thinking.

I give you an angel's perception of hell:

"... we beheld the infinite Abyss, fiery as the smoke of a burning city; beneath us, at an immense distance, was the sun, black but shining; round it were fiery tracks on which revolved vast spiders, crawling after their prey, which flew, or rather swum, in the infinite deep, in the most terrific shapes of animals sprung from corruption; & the air was full of them, & seemed composed of them: these are Devils, and are called Powers of the air...

... cloud and fire burst and rolled thro' the deep, blackening all beneath, so that the nether deep grew black as a sea, & rolled with a terrible noise; beneath us was nothing now to be seen but a black tempest, till looking east between the clous & waves, we saw a cataract of blood mixed with fire, and not many stones' throw from us appeared a fiery crest above the waves; slowly i reared like a ridge of golden rocks, till we discovered two globes of crimson fire, from which the sea fled away in clouds of smoke; and now we saw it was the head of Leviathan; his forehead divided into streaks of green and purple and red gills hang just above the raging foam, tinging the black deep with beams of blood, advancing toward us with all the fury of a spiritual existence."

The angel fled, and Blake stood alone when the scenery changed. Blake creates his own hell:

"... I found myself sitting on a pleasant bank beside a river by moonlight, hearing a harper, who sung to the harp."

Blake's conclusion:

"The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, & breeds reptiles of the mind."