Artistic Navigator’s Soliloquium

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO TELL ME?

i am lying on the forest floor at night. soft underground. it is cold and moist below my corpse. i feel my heels up to my head touching the ground. i focus on these points while my eyes are closed. the cold reflection of the ground disappears slowly. transitions into an embrace of warmth on my back. i am in touch with it now. the air smells of fertile moist humus paired with an odour that reminds me of animals in captivity — but then that is the place I smelled it first so here it mixes with a wooden sweetness of spruce and moss. it fits together perfectly like the symbiosis that finds itself in soils harmony.

WHY DO WE CALL A DEAD BODY CORPSE?

its like ‚cul-de-sac‘. thats another name for a ‘dead end’ in the UK, though never to be navigated there. just live in one. ask a french translator what it actually means. ‘cliffhanger punchline’

WHAT DO WE CALL A DEAD MIND THEN?

maybe, mindless, mindful. mindset. no. robot.

AND SOULS?

souls.

WHAT ARE SOULS TO DEATH?

the absence of time to life.

I DON’T GET IT. WHAT IS HAPPENING NEXT?

all that is happening is what is not happening. being still. in contact with that forests surface. breathing keeps moving my chest up and down. my nostrils moving open and shut. my stomach up and down. my mind moves through the corpse like water droplets in a cloud. visualising is a way to connect to the soul via the dreamscape — the lock. breathing is a tool to forge the key. 

WHAT DO YOU NEED THE FOREST FOR?

trees are climate. that energy in a forest is magical below me. inside that soil is more life than we have sand on the planet. its multitude of shapes forms is mindbending. its detail in the dark is inspiring and trees are holding all that wisdom each one with its own kingdom. unike us also stemming from that kingdom, we somehow ventured far off into another fairyland yet to comprehend, really.

WHAT IS IT ABOUT?

its about deep rooted life. in collective it curates a superorganism that keeps shelter for all shapes of life as well as food for those in need. that in essence is happening constantly not perceived visually so lying here in between and below the canopy on the ground I am connecting with that shelter, being food to tiny organisms which open my skin up to the bones to become one with that kingdom again not forceful but gently by lying down — for long enough without interference this flesh and bones becomes the soil while my soul probably dances off with the fairies in the woods.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

Its not mean. Its how I visualise it while being in close contact with my surroundings I keep wondering why people go into these woods to take their lives instead of healing here yet it might be a form of healing in a more grand perspective. 

WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY GRAND?

I don’t mean. its a word that triggers like a gun. mean, meaning you ask without opting for experience. please do that before meaning to mean a means of meaning grand. grand as in holistic. to give sense to that i speak ho’oponopono when visualising it. so it might be about the soul guiding a corpse into the woods to lay it down there to venture off with the fairies. its been dead already so I regard it as paying that physical form a last tribute. a gorgeous one.

ARE YOU TRYING TO ROMANTICIZE SUICIDE?

this is cynical from a standpoint as we collectively in our human kingdom neglect becoming one with nature — our own nature. to be civilised that leads us into deforestation abusing trees for furniture to sit on and write about them. so it seems fairy cynical to ask that question when you open up for perceiving woods as shelter and food as these are basic needs for life as well as all the life below my body as we speak is killed by that deliberation.

WHERE ARE YOU NOW?

still on the forest floor sensing the moon on my skin — soothing wind stopped. tranquility. something seems approaching. a rustling noise comes closer to where my corpse lies. it is the smell of a wild boar or a fox. now i remember.

WHAT DO YOU REMEMBER?

as a kid we went to a wildlife park together with my parents, brother and cousin. it was a coldish day. air was fresh. we drove there from my aunties house to visit animals from the forest. thats where my nostrils picked up on that odour the first time round. we were walking around fenced in not metal but wood yet captivated animals that not supposed to be there. the kids introduction to animals.

WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?

how wrong that is of us to transport animals into cities to look at them go home and never question these activities. usually on a day off. another thought that comes in is just that in our not so distant past we did do exactly that with tribal folk literally exhibited humans for ‘civilians’ to look at them. on a day off. it makes me questions days off and disregarding the concept ‘civilian’ — it disgusts me.

WHAT DO YOU SENSE?

jealousy of that deep rootedness with nature being intrinsic one with nature and fear of giving up comfort and diseased minds that try to control an experience.

ARE YOU WONDERING WHERE THAT ORIGINATES FROM?

yes. does it make me happy. not really. a nip in the butt. painful sometimes necessary.

WHAT DO YOU SENSE?

it seems that somehow nature has build in something into our design that constantly wants to expand. then it also attached a sort of kill switch for it to not grow to massive to gigantic. at some point in time we firgured out how to build a loop around it. neglect that kingdom for establishing our own which in turn curated poised ways of the mind to travel within our corpses than outside in awe of abundance. that raise naturally those most fit to control a group using these techniques. 

WHERE ARE YOU HEADING WITH IT?

to the ancient empires of europe. romans and greeks, yet the romans found a sweet spot connect ideology with state called christianity. it curated law and forced order onto humans. of course this perspective is a european one as it is still the one conquering humans from diverse skinfolks. you can find substitute in others too, the result is law and order — ‘civilians’ are killing indigenous: listen to yourself speaking the word “in-di-genius”. 

HAVE YOU HEARD ABOUT RUNES?

of course these were used by european tribes before being missioned into a new law and order. now that language is dead still a base for southern europe. its mad to think but most of these latin languages conquered and colonised the world. with laws written in these languages we find human exercising atrocities in the name of a higher purpose that is by calling humans one with nature: ‘savages’ — now we know how that usually mirrors the mindset of the sender.

WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?

not trying. if you call someone savage it is a reflection of that persons mindset. you remember what i said about mindset. 

WHERE ARE YOU NOW?

outside of my body.

WHAT?

or should I say corpse?

I AM THE ONE ASKING THE QUESTIONS.

why are you getting upset?

IT IS AN INTERROGATION — YOU ARE NOT INTERROGATING ME.

its a conversation. you agreed to listen so listen to the wind picking up right now. listen to the sounds around you. are they organic or machine made? this always gives me a sense of belonging as right now I belong to you we are connected in touch yet not physical still touched by frequencies.

WHERE ARE YOU NOW?

in the woods again.

WHAT DO YOU SEE?

a corpse on the forest floor.

WHAT DO YOU DO?

moving carefully closer to it like a gust of wind. it smells funny like a mix of herbs and spices somehow. it just lies there. the air close to where air circulates has a sweet and acidic fermented odour. i move closer to probe eating it. i am hungry as it is set in my rhythm. I am careful as I approach. it can be a trap yet curiosity and my stomach push me closer to that corpse. some striking familiarity hit me when i witness some radiation flickering off it. i put my nostrils into the wind. 

WHAT ARE YOU?

…

WHAT ARE YOU?

…

WHERE ARE YOU NOW?

in the ether above a scenery that looks familiar to me yet foreign in essence of its real presence as I am looking down on my corpse but i have no eyes yet sensing everything around me even miles away. i feel the full moon navigating moisture inside my body from the bottom up into my extremities. there is more i can feel a distant call of a relative in need for sugar. somehow my body knows how to read instantly wow. i look down and there is my corpse looking strange from above. wait there is a fox next to the corpse. it seems hungry. 

HOW DID YOU GET UP THERE?

something cold and wet is touching my right hand. the odour is in immediate closeness. taking my breath away. so i hold it. focusing on that sniffing sound echoing in my mind.

WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?

i am on a farm looking into the eyes of a pig. another animal introduced to me in captivity yet the farm is in a different climate to where I would place that animal. it is between the tropics of capricorn and cancer. it is humid and the air is bustling, its hot and the sun is high in the sky. short shadows. a small hud that seems to be build by hands to my right we are on a high altitude — breathing can tell. the pig looks back at me and images of that movie pop up in my head proudly presented by hollywood.

HOW DID THE PIG GET UP THERE?

its sure to be eaten, called pork by then. transformed into pork belly with beans and fried plantain. served with a cup of hot maroon coloured sweet and juicy beverage. now i remember why i was here.

WHERE ARE YOU?

on a coffee farm. having lunch with two travel buddies, a guide and the owners of anothre farm. can barely call it a farm though. its rather a plantation just shrubs around aligned perfectly straight like avenues or like the bleached smile of the owner. he is explaining how it is just one of a few his family owns. usually he takes care of selling the produce from an office in the nearby town called sevilla. the folk working for him all are from another ethnicity. they are shorter, have darker skin and cannot read or write as he told us. so he and his wife are taking care of them and give them work.

WHAT DO YOU THINK?

i do not eat pork.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING ABOUT IT?

not eating it. 

WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?

i excuse myself to go to the toilet. a moment of privacy. to reflect on bleached teeth and ignorance. i realise there are no birds chirping. just chicken. 

WHO ARE YOU TO JUDGE?

its an observation. a human being is never a finished being its on a molecular level constantly evolving. the perks of our bodies — remember a corpse turns into humus. his soul though seems aggravated towards its own nature. all i see around is a concept of a production that neither belongs here nor stems from here. 

WHAT DO YOU SENSE?

fear to be nobody. responding to fear to be nobody with bleached teeth. reflects mad love with no body. a corpse. necrophilia.

NECROPHILIA BECAUSE HE MAKES LOVE TO HIS OWN CORPSE BY BLEECHING TEETH?

yes. holding up a black mirror. it is about how he spoke about the skinfolk working for him. his demeanour when expressing his way of giving them work and purpose in their life. in the end he tried to impress us white europeans i guess.  

WHERE ARE YOU NOW?

in a jungle following a guide in a white robe. he welcomed us to see a magical waterfall. its noisy as in constant soundscape with singing birds dictating the harmony of rattling base layer of insects. its not even a path the woman explains as her machete cuts through lush green. he navigates by the smell of one specific flower blossoming close to sources of water. once we find water we just walk downstream by then we can hear the waterfall. the moment the guide finishes a red fruit familiar to the mind catches my attention. no way. its a tree as big as most other trees around. these can be up to two hundred years old she mentions while handing a deep red cherry. you guys brought them here she says.

WHAT DOES SHE SUGGEST BY THAT?

he suggests that these trees are not indigenous to her land. still they loved that climate which was ‘discovered’ by western settlers in an expansion spree of colonisation. around the time when we started with public racial exhibitions of her ancestors, too. 

WHY ARE YOU SWITCHING PRONOUNS?

gender its a coloniser concept like law and order. so in respect to her soul i am using the pronoun she as often as he. as i am using the language of the oppressor.

IS THERE SOMETHING YOU ARE SEEING?

we steal from an indigenous place. bring it to another place and expect it to work for us. meanwhile europe turned into a monotheistic society known for inventions like democracy. modern warfare and genocides while producing food like we practice religion: monoculture. we are close to kill off our soil. the final state for soil is sand. nothing grows on sand but buildings out of it. to house more of us ‘civilians’. to produce more glass windows to look through yet we seem unable to look though all that transparency. a sea can be transparent down to the ground. then our vision stops and on a sunny day that transparent sea reflects our looks and our mind sets on who we are. like narcissus we fall into that trap and die from within slowly like the soil does around us. its interconnected. its geometry and physics mastered in physical experience from ancient european navigators to the tribes in kalahari desert to the kogi in the jungle. our intellect studies it yet again to internet all of it, just to lose the bodily response to it. all of us are constantly migrating. from light to darkness. from night into day. from child to adult. from raw to war. from knowing nothing to being educated. from young to old. from life to death. from one shape to another shape. from an autocrat state to a democracy and back. its a loop a circle stretched by time into a spiral. only nature realm is in power. those who oppress and claim it play suicide tunes on their trumpets.  

WHY ARE YOU SO ANGRY?

try not to be angry when you see oil gushing into land that the guide walked me through. its an emotional human response that is as natural as the sensation you have when being gifted brand new sneakers. its a human experience. we need oil to make plastic. we need plastic to have toys to play with when growing up. needs shifted for ‘civilians’ ever since that industrial revolution. fast forward we move from favouring digital lifestyles over analogue ones. we are not against nature as it is within our nature to do exactly that. its just getting boring to keep hearing the same manufactured stories. like monoculture lettuce. no taste to it. whenever i read about ancient tribes there is this sensation of awe, this intrigue about experiencing what they do. 

WHY DONT YOU GO LIVE WITH THEM?

its all interconnected. so even if i went to live with ‘THEM’ it takes generations. an egotistical journey to travel to live among ‘THEM’ has potential to eradicate their existence through our societal diseases. one hidden building force of civilisation are vaccines and antibiotics. ways of medicine to prevent us systematically to die. it reminds me of the time i spend in the australian outback. here the patina for what paints this picture seems fresh as two timeframes of cultural experience confront each other. a twenty thousand year evolved culture build on dreamscapes and no sense of ownership being slowly eradicated by western explorers who claimed to have discovered a land that was already home to humans two hundred years ago. its schizophrenic to read that a guy called tasman discovered tasmania.

WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

its mean to claim a name of a land that you do not know. obviously tasmania was named after that tasman dude — no mentioning by how the indigenous folk to the land calling their land. its like this engrained kill switch boredom. kingdom and wisdom. the land later was called vandemonian: listen to your inner voice reading that word. its like an obsession during that time around europe just like caesar missioning european tribes killing those who not ought to listen. 

DONT YOU THINK THAT ALL THAT IS HINDSIGHT?

of course it is like writing history books while eating caesar salad.

WHERE ARE YOU NOW?

i am walking south through a european capital. crossing plaza del sol. venturing east following an intuition that i urge to discover. there seems to be a physical sensation of listening to within to turn left or right. 

WHAT IS YOUR DESTINATION?

the way.

WHAT IS YOUR WAY?

i am quiet. not in thought too much but practicing navigating or finding that voice guiding me. each of these called is a new reality opening up. a strip of manmade history with forced patina of natural elements. buildings a library of stories. passed volcanos turned sand turned cement turned building turned room turned home. i ask myself what questions to ask when we do not speak the same language? where do you guide me? what is my destination? a space? meeting a stranger? all around me is urbanism my senses pick up on distant sounds of a scooter accelerating. the neighbourhood is quiet. so am i. i enter a coffeeshop. ask the barista to prepare a natural geisha for me from peru. cup of excellence place five he mentions. most expensive cup of coffee i paid for. urlaub. rich flavours. juicy and creamy mouthfeel. light sugary sweetness candied apricots and even floral notes hit my nostrils. on the wall i see a screen that repeats a white dude traveling to coffee farms just like me. only difference he put his name on everything, educating people. 

ARE WE KILLING THE TEACHER ARCHETYPE? 

that inner voice guides me to a place of home. white walls an art gallery invites me in. trying to connect with the host the answer ah many people say that it is not special. thats how i feel about the creativity exhibited in a room where a printout of the artist is the only engagement. the clay in my pocket still fresh the one in the space fired and displayed. i stay and read then leaving appeared. twelve steps further down the road where i discovered peace for the day a space among plants, playing children around filling ether with playful energy. that garden welcomed in a stranger in search for soothing space to rest. an invitation to sit down and let my body turn the oldest resource into a shape that can be recognised as such among plants, trees and joyful momentary beauty. 

WHAT IS THE OLDEST RESOURCE?

clay

CAN YOU ELABORATE?

pieces of clay were dated back thousand of years. imagine the discovery of it lead humans evolving a technique from there into craft. a bowl to carry water can change everything. then again clay is an advancement of a distinct type of soil. it has one element in its essence while carrying all the others with it. it needs fire to become clay. it dries on air when being formed. water is needed to keep it fresh. its texture allows your imagination to shape space that can hold the elements it carries. it even traveled to space. it turned craft into story then into culture. it is hard to imagine an alternative resource with that holistic breakdown to fractal.

WHERE ARE YOU NOW?

in a past life. energy of my current composition was locked in for a long time into a tree. part of a forest. a natural wild place. crafting climate and navigating weather for distant landscape. my roots touched soil that turned death into life. my reach went into deep dark matter that is full of fractal pieces of the bigger picture. a resemblance that a human mind can grasp in geometrical shape. logic extracted by visiting my stem observing how the elements shaped me. the frequency of the wind. the sun. the moon. the interconnectedness within that super cosmos that i call family. fire turned me into ashes. a storm a natural force split my atoms and released my consciousness yet again.

WHERE DOES THAT COME FROM?

energy is conserved, always.

SO WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY ‘YET AGAIN’?

there were visions. images. from a past life in an rather ancient context. a warrior. a father. someone concerned with an ideology converting my tribe folk. from a caring sensation i am taking off on a journey to origin as that context threatens my existence. on battlefield I killed for duty. possessing authority through kindness. killing is not my purpose though it is part of the lived experience. my deeper voice guiding me to disregard its storytelling searching for meaning within my own reality. eventually the subtle virality of that foreign doctrine forced itself into my brothers, sisters and children. so my departure to venture into abyss of navigating by the earths elements brought me closer to purpose of deeper living.

HOW DOES IT RELATE?

i died on that journey. not by age but bitten, poisoned somehow stung as my awareness shift before a light illuminated the abyss. the darkness that kept me captivated.

UNTIL?

until parts fraction resurfaced in another concept. growing deep into a world that nourished me in a previous life that filled my senses with intuitive response settling down watching and reading shapes arousing sensations of human physical experience. 

AND NOW?

now that realisation comes about in another context like that fire just put inside of me. its feeding interaction with my surroundings though they appear polished, muted senses new experiences that scared me before to force itself onto me like a virus — an addictive monoculture subtly assassinating to manipulate itself into ever new forms of same logic. the collective the unknown the foreign appeared navigating differently, blitzes like that fire casting strike illuminates my consciousness. to pick up on that impulse retrieving utilising this experience to reflect shapes into shadows. guiding modes into a translation a story spanning over soul energies composing in conservation of energy like sounds which always were until composed into melody making sense. triggering a sensual response. memory and images. 

WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?

fractals being closed eyes. 

the deep inside alive. 

fractals expanding an epiphany. 

bright funny frei. 

the night sky guided stars. 

horizon vast tapping into life precise like ironic 

the ‘invention of time’. 

sensations now. 

relative lies. 

past lives. 

WHERE IS YOUR BODY?

still on the forest floor. still breathing. clouds are passing in the night sky. no wind on the ground.

AND YOUR MIND?

here with you. imagine clouds contain more truth than most other natural entities. they are never finished — you cannot even see how one becomes one — as it visualises in front of your eyes from invisible by moving from detail into a pattern. all this in a blink of an eye. more so our perspective looking up does not allow us to see the entire image as i remember from flying. clouds are the skies iceberg, with a perspective shift.

WHY DOES IT TRUTH MORE THAN OTHER? 

perhaps it is rather concentrated truth somewhat distilling it to make it so much more than transparent. clouds are the meta for transformational truth it cannot stay invisible anymore. there are too many details forming a pattern. manifesting that from your perspective you can only look to the bottom of it yet when awareness courage and authority come into play. you know inherently what is ought to happen — there is a sense within highly connected beings to anticipate without claiming they can forecast — revolute thought. it is the furthest we detached from it — that sense — as weather today is detached in conversation from how we are communicating and treating ourselves and others. the talk is about old and boring consumption and vanity. even there we just look at it take a photo to show others following the tourist mantra: been there done that.

 WHAT ABOUT THE FOX?

its sniffing my right hand still, as I am here with you telling you about the clouds. its hungry. there is not much food left in the woods for many mammals so they become nocturnal to our urban areas. foragers to the rubbish and wastelands of our households. the smell of a fox hit me one night when i witnessed two venturing loners in the outskirts of berlin. there was a tree breaking strorm washing through the night. still the odour was strong almost sticky close to their presence so i stayed calm and watched them. at some point they stopped taking notice of me and continued to run around on search for food. a couple of days later around when the sun was setting in another more trendy neighbourhood there was that odour again. in my nose right there. this time around the wind was calm so it probably got stuck there on the ground with rubbish of human disposal. it makes me wonder how nocturnal animals are navigating the cities. how they have learned and adopted to our behaviour. most of us do not even take notice of it, like these black mirror or dark topics of collective death and depression. they just live in conversation without anyone noticing them. usually in the subtext of expression. there can be moments when we cross paths and being astounded by their existence. it has always been there, still. 

AREN’T YOU WORRIED THE FOX BITES YOUR HAND?

no. i am the more dangerous predator.

BASED ON WHAT YOU SAY I GET THE IMPRESSION THE WAY WE ARE LIVING IS ULTIMATELY KILLING US?

that is were thoughts ought to lead you. the ideology we are currently governed by is dying yes. hence the thoughts attached to them send warning signals to you. humanism served us as a global ideology. it has build many civilisations. the paradox strikes with humanism, too. the underlying issue that i tried to caress your senses is that of civilisation itself and how humanism itself also killed humans who not fit into the concept as they decided to stay living with the forest instead. close within nature. now you are moaning about wars and killings when that is what humanism was build upon. we killed humans to become civilians. what is next you might ask? you can see that already around us as all of it happens simultaneously. we are not all gonna die as we are nature even though we are trying hard to be robots its nature and nature will survive itself. the question is rather about survival of our own habitat. 

YOU ARE USING THE TERMS HUMANS AND CIVILIANS. WHERE IS THE DIFFERENCE?

there is no difference in essence. it just seems like one claims to govern the other to control the habitat. we are all humans unless you ask a lawmaker and statesmen. we are all humans in the face of the source of all beings.  

FIFTY FIVE PERCENT OF PEOPLE LIVE IN CITIES THAT IS OUR MOST POPULAR HABITAT.

indeed. our life continues to take place in digital space. dataism is our new ideology. the internet of all things is our new habitat. we are training robots to peel bananas. the habitat is transformed from analogue into a digital. one right in front of our eyes. we are the transAI generation. the building fathers and sisters of a reality detached from an analogue physical experience. those civilians who want to live in the old world are being killed off eventually like those ‘savages’ in ancient times. a new law & order being put in place for it to justify that genocide. the language of the oppressor is technical and yet based on the same roots as the one colonising the world. still in that world we find human capacity of love and fear. robots and AI do assist a decreased world population to survive in times of massive reoccuring natural disasters. coffee is called robot juice.      

CAN YOU PROVE THAT CLAIM?

listen to yourself talking about the weather. listen carefully how we are speaking about climate change and natural disasters in news media. listen to scientists warning about the melting north and south as well as rising temperatures in the ocean. if you dare really look those humans in the eyes who are still living on the outskirts of humanism — those who do not have a voice in our civilisation. the rise of a new ideology is utilising the systems of the old. look at how we are missioning for electric cars being the future solution. CO2 is the new brandchild of dataism. the resources for that future lies within the soil below trees, stored away in the worlds layers like clay did thousands of years ago. new natural resources open our imagination to build a future that governs boredom, kingdom and wisdom. 

SO YOU ARE SAYING?

i am saying it is night. so the contrast is not that sharp. my corpse is lying on the forest floor breathing. i am dreaming among spruces and pines, bedded on moss. a fox observes me attentively. humble patience waiting for me to migrate from living to death. thayú. the mp free air is filled with that odour of my companions playing tunes and images. times is not present as my soul ventures into the abyss of human psyche just to find shelter along with giants who themselves return out of star formations of the clear night sky. fluid sensations. together we sit around an eternal fire watching anthropogenic stories inside the changing flames. the drama grasping pleiades attention, nudging me by nodding to the left. the image shifts. we witness siddartha gautama with crossed legs meditating among an old magical tree. the scene is surreal. the trees shape seems too grand, too painted as though the elements were unable to create it. enlightened roots hovering kintsugi like towards my center. just above ground. a picture of water slowly and controlled pouring out of a tab appears in the fire. all of a sudden the water jet seems to stop moving. just in that instant. it lignifies. each one of these streams dig deep into the soil. the entire scenery is calm still filled with chaotic movement of fire flickering off the roots, stem and a lush canopy. majestically it sits elevated high above where the corpse is leaning. its lush green is painting a perfect elliptical shape that rarely witnessed on earth as the sun’s angle seems different here. the branches are flocked with colourful birds chirping pure melodies that elevate my consciousness. abundance sucked into nothingness and gushed out. constantly revolving. as visual image the tree is the source metaphor for spirituality in itself. a connector between the reality of dream and thought. 

WHEN IS THE DAY?

blessed dreams.