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- Herausgeber: Th. Om
- Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023
A cuople, living in Frankfurt, the konotpoint of mioney, decides to walk the "Camino del Norte". They meet "The Hiker" . The truth, that is told to the them, out of the xplananations he makes, shows a new understanding of the world for them.
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Th. Om
The
Hiker
Frankfurt am Main
"We can't take the cat with us.“ said Bettina. She was standing at the spacious living room window of our apartment, in a well-kept district of Frankfurt, looking out at the nocturnal skyline. We both work for the money society, a system, we now have serious doubts about. My job in a large bank gave me amazing insights, which I of course shared with Mickey - and his job as a publisher also gave him some information. Well, we're both at an age, when others have been hospitalized with burnouts – maybe, it was the famous midlife crisis? We had dealt with this topic in detail. However, what really concerned us, meant much more. Perhaps one could say, that we were concerned with the meaning of life? Both of us could be described as doers. We did not remain idle in pursuing the search for this meaning. But somewhere, as we had to realize, the conventional religions, including the smaller currents (we tried tantra, among other things, because this path seemed affine to both of us) did not bring us any real step forward. So, after long nightly deliberations, the decision was made - to hike the Way of St. James to Santiago de Compostela. We would hit the ground running on this path of getting a little closer to the truth. Whatever that truth might be.” "No, the cat has to stay with your sister" said Mickey. He was standing next to slim Bettina, had his arm wrapped around her waist, the way she liked it. „The backpacks with “Still Conventions” are packed. We don't understand society anymore - better maybe - we get that tiny bit too much. We recognize our cogwheel function - but let's be honest - everyone on this earth will be that far very soon, even if they may not be able to formulate it. In this sense, the will to change something, in this not really satisfactory situation, seems to be a little more pronounced, in both of us. Which is certainly still an understatement, because we both want to draw a big line. About the “how” we only had vague ideas. According to the plan, the Way of St. James, from Porto to Santiago de Compostela, about 300 kilometers of march, should bring inspiration. Because - both of our problems, we agreed after nights of discussions - represented the implementation of spirituality - we were concerned with a conscious, loving life and action in the now - but we did not find the faintest glimmer of a possibility to do this in, even approximate conformity with society, to try, to implement, to experience. Far too overwhelmed, tied into the mechanics of the social clockwork of judgment. All or nothing at all - seemed to be the motto – especially with regard to financial resources. Bettina was probably (and I don't want to exclude myself) just going through a mid-life crisis - her cycle had ended - and with it the huge wish, the dream of having a child of her own. Time ate up my dream as a publisher, of one day landing the big hit with a book. For a long time I had to watch myself how I shifted the focus accordingly in the direction of pure money-making.
PORTO – VILLA DA CONDO
In early may we arrived at the airport in Porto, a nice little town in northern Portugal. Without the cat - that we left with Bettina's sister. Here, on the coast, there was a route of the Way of St. James, rather, at least a little, unknown among the pilgrims. With a lot of luck and self-confidence we got hold of a four-poster bed in a seedy guesthouse in the city at night - even though the bell of the nearby church rang just three in the morning. As we found out at breakfast the next morning, it had rained continuously for the last 14 days, and waterproof clothing was urgently recommended for our journey. However, as we set out, to explore the city a bit, the sky cleared. Porto really isn't a very big city, apart from the huge suburbs. It is located on a hill by the sea - accordingly, it goes to the sea, downhill. We had a great few hours in cozy cafes, restaurants, at the port. The next morning, rested and acclimatized, we started. We walked about 10 kilometers along the layers of houses in Porto on the right, always near the coast - the area more poor, but with more and more rural charm. It was about 20 kilometers to the first accommodation, which we could use with our pilgrim passes, which we obtained the day before. Bettina and I didn't like the constant traffic, the paved roads, but we knew that the path would not lead through the gray suburbs again the next day - a French pilgrim (a comrade, by the way, an explosives specialist from the "Action directe" period ), who had managed the route in the rain, described the route along the sea to us. The hostel in Rates, a small village, of course on the coast, the end point of the first stage, should give us the wonderful thing, which the path has ready for everyone in some form, but would already be shown to us this evening. The beginning of a transformation of our thinking, which, as we would soon realize, had greater dimensions, than we had previously suspected or even suspected.As often is the case on the way, one still had a good while to walk from the pilgrims' path to the accommodation, the Albuerge. Finding the key to the accommodation proved a little tricky, but eventually, with a helpful visit to a bar, where the wanted manager was, we were seated in the large, homely kitchen, with tea water boiling on the stove. We ate a packet of soup. We didn't enjoy the togetherness and the silence for long, when a late group of hikers arrived. A dentist from Russia and his, maybe 15-year-old daughter. The doctor, he was allowed to be around 35 to 40 years old, carried a huge backpack on his back, almost twice as high (and probably also heavy) as his daughter's backpack, which, although big, would still pass as "normal". The doctor and daughter greeted us enthusiastically in broken English, then began to look after their luggage. Maybe four hours after the two had arrived, there was another knock on the door. A pilgrim, evidently, entered the room. He was dressed in a black Buddhist robe, had a long white beard and hair tied in a long braid at the nape of his neck. As baggage, he only carried a small shoulder bag, with a buckled blanket. He stood there, smiling, in the middle of the kitchen, bowed with folded hands and announced: "My friends call me Candle. I look forward to welcoming you as companions.”His eyes shone kindly. Bettina and I looked at each other - his look, his existence, made us smile, we were happy, there was a good feeling.Soon, while the others were also eating a small meal, we were all sitting at the large wooden table, each with a cup of steaming tea in front of us and talking. The man in the black robe and the white beard didn't add much to the conversation. He sat there, obviously at ease, listening intently to the conversation. It wasn't until our subject turned to religion, that after a while, he really got involved, meaning, he started to speak: “It is a great honor for me to be able to speak to you, here, this evening. All of you - and all those, who may still come - are here and on the road, for a very special reason. To understand. If you are confused by my words in the next few days - accept it. You will notice, that I only speak for your good." Before Candle took the floor, we tried to clarify in our round table discussion, what God is, for us. The Russian painted a corresponding picture from the Bible - Bettina and I remained rather inconsistent and took refuge in Buddhist ideas, that we had come across so fragmentarily (besides share prices, sales figures and margins). "You spoke of God," began the white beard, "You keep looking for him, that's why you're here, isn't it? And of course, God is with you. As close as it gets. And what is impossible for a god? Listen to me, because now it's about your search. To you. About the absolute human.” He looked at us one by one, smiling, somehow mischievously. Then he dug out a faded blue tobacco pouch and began to roll a cigarette.“What you are looking for has neither beginning nor end. If we look deep within ourselves, we will find neither a truly defined beginning, nor end. This is because of the absolute conception of eternity, that is our inheritance as children of all-embracing love. The more than simple truth is, that we, as creatures of singular absoluteness, can only be ourselves in supreme form, like our mother, our father, like "it", the alloneness.“ He looked around. I said nothing, like Bettina, because actually I didn't understand anything at first. The other two also lowered their eyes."Do you understand? We are dreaming gods! In the absolute!” He packed tobacco on the paper. "It means, very straightforwardly, that we, each of us, are the God of a 'singular', yet absolute, universe 'in' soleness. Each of us is absolute, dreaming God, Creator, Part of Love. That means, our spirit fills EVERYTHING, really "everything" - in whatever definition. This is what is meant by "I am". We are. Absolutely with all the consequences. For real," He deftly rolled a small tube of tobacco and licked the adhesive strip.“This is the consequence of absoluteness! Look! What an incredible, wonderful kingdom! We could live in it, romp through knee-high grass, feast on dandelions, chase butterflies - because EVERYTHING is ABSOLUTELY fine. That is the truth - but we vegetate in a gigantic self-deception - in the belief, that we can hand over our responsibility to an "outside", that is only vaguely conceptualized."Candle lit the fags, coughed briefly. “You imagine a punitive creation! All of us - we are convinced, that this something, that cannot be further questioned, with our senses, our perception - God - whatever, is malicious, resentful, punishing? This is how life creates unspeakable fear for us. Yet we try desperately, to establish rules in the chaos, trying to construct meaning. Our absoluteness, our existence as God, has been completely lost in these efforts. What you have in your heads is a commitment to smallness!" He blew smoke at the ceiling with an angry expression on his face.“We confessed to smallness - because our minds have been so trained, very grandly. Nobody is aware of this, the smallness is fundamental, created in potentiation of itself. Smallness is the principle of this society, so does every supposed one comes from Magnificence, only of an overpoweringly dreary interpretation of our "being". In order to "get to the bottom" of this problem, the doubt as to whether it makes sense - we part, we divide. We then call this “scientific observation”. He laughed softly, repeated. “We break it down into smaller and smaller pieces, call it science. Thus we move further and further away from wholeness, falling into insignificance, in an effort, to fashion our quest into smallness and fragmentation, in the search for God. It is not for nothing, this sentence in all religions: “Stop! Repent!” To which would be added: There is no point, there is nothing to do, everything is. "IT IS". You don't need to worry. Mother Earth (in the idea of wholeness) will care for you! It's about a lack of trust!" For a moment, he looked in the eyes of each of us. “If trust in each other were possible, in the idea of society, that was really causal, the path of reversal could be walked “blindly”, only trusting in one’s brother or sister. But the dynamics of the judging system do not allow this. This possibility does not exist here, everything in the construction throws back. There is no fixed point in dualism, on which to place real trust. " He took a sip of the tea, probably cold by now. “Freedom from enslavement is found outside of enslavement. Logical, right?" He dropped the ash from his butt into a plastic lid on the table. His hands swept through the air. “It must be made clear that our real existence lies “outside” this from the ego thoughts of transience and sin, as the sole projected “outside” – our enslavement – through it, so to speak, because what we define as perception is pure illusion. It must also be shown, that in the absolute (that is, the truth) no action is necessary, since it (the truth, the absolute) contains action as well as non-action anyway, so, recognized as void, it dissolves.” He took a deep breath. He looked at us, almost, as if begging for forgiveness, as we tried desperately to follow his words. “It's about not falling into inaction! Do you understand? The absolute is nothing and everything. We must not fall into inaction! Regardless, of whether we see ourselves on the outside, which constantly generates our fear of life - so we just declare ourselves to be leaves in the wind of the indefinite - or we approach the realization of our absoluteness - our body is given to us as an instrument for finding the truth - the goal of love stands firm and is attained, is already attained. Just the way, we explain things, makes it impossible for us, to see that." That look of his again. I thought I saw sadness too. He continued: "As brutal as it sounds: We have to ignore existing rules!" One last drag from the fag, he stubbed it out. “It is possible to go against the wind of society!” Fully convinced. “Those who try, will find that sincere love of life is richly rewarded by creation. And though you wander in deep valleys... It is possible to find true fulfillment by changing the direction of the path 180 degrees. "Without regard to losses". It is possible to take the "sacred" path of "NOW" in complete reversal of what was seen before. Only to do, to "work" what you love. Always. This only works outside of predefined algorithms!” One or two sips of tea - then, over the rim of the cup: “Society simply lacks awareness, belief, confidence. There isn't even any real hope. We live, aware of, internalized in, a cruel existence, convinced of its totalitarian negativity, in the pieces of which we desperately search for meaning.” He puts down the tea. “Basically, there is nothing different. Everything and anything is packed into algorithms – and quantum physics is one of them. What people see, is, that the world is a punitive unconditional. Very easy:"Candle briefly raised his index finger: “We live our world as a negative, a punishing absoluteness. And this deterministic negativism is sacred to us. We internalized this view of the world, of our being, our existence. In the truest sense of the word, she has become second nature to us. But it's not the truth! So: "Hold on! turn back! The world is a paradise! Unconditionality is loving!” Nothing but love will ever happen to you. And that's true (absolutely) - even if you can't see it. Trust is the way.” He stood up. Impressive his shape, somehow, although he was not exactly huge. He now raised his voice: “YOUR thinking reflects the world! It is completely YOUR universe, that you live. Complete, through and through. No exception. Paint it black and it is black. Think about wars, sickness, death, hunger and suffering - and you will find them. As much of it as you want. Unfortunately, this goes so deep, that you do not recognize it, under your protection from idols. What you manifest, with your perception, or your body, keeps you in the darkest blindness.” A little louder: “We are pure love! Again - the stringent logic calls: We are INBORN children of an absolute creation, that can only be pure love, truth. The terminology of the absolute in this "formula" leads, in direct, "compelling", completely abstract logic, to the realization that we "are" in the same situation as our Creator. We are absolute love, absolute creation - are absolute GOD. It is. Love." He took a deep breath, remained silent for a moment. “Again, whoever continues to be deceived by the numerous witnesses, brought by the ego, in favor of its interpretation of existence, becomes the search for meaning, which is everyone's task on the path, without prospect of any appreciable success, in one Operate closed maze with several levels - upat the point in time when this one gate opens, which allows him to recognize precisely this, namely the nature of his existence, as a senseless flight through time, without any further doubt. I'm telling you," He leaned on the wooden table with both hands, “From the sacred moment of actual seeing, the constellation of things perceived by the senses and mind, changes. The path now leads directly to the source. A truly transforming abstraction of time and awareness allows, the now more and more tangible primal force of (absolute) love, to become an all-embracing, infinitely tender reality. The old song grows ever louder, our spirit ever brighter.” With a twist, he sat down in his place. A rather impotent silence reigned - neither of us had interrupted him. Now he asked in a low voice:"Leave it for today what I was trying to explain. Ask yourself all the questions.”He smiled brightly. “Please excuse me my friends, the hike was tiring. I wish you a good night's sleep!” With that he got up and disappeared into his bed.
