THE ULTIMATE SELF-KNOWLEDGE!-
In a new mankind, I get to know myself, perhaps better than in the past. It sounds nice as a one-liner, but needs some explanation, a broader description, to serve as a cause in myself or the reason for my existence. Otherwise, I might as well have claimed; in old age, I get to know myself by stripping away all my ailments and defects piece by piece with my last breath. A quirk of thought beneath the measure of happiness that alongside the sadness of the moment shrouds the future in depression like an addict to the economic growth of morphing into absolutising emotions. But it is better to l e t go of the thought of the subhuman vale of tears for now. The month in which God is born walks like a donkey on its hind legs for a reason. Decides I lightly as a Christmas star.
Let me stretch again to think nice and deep about this problem, that would not be a problem if I had not raised it myself in the eternal quest for ontological security. I grunt with this thought of well-being, like an Islamic Christmas child who has received himself immaculately into the future of his unparalleled green dreams.
I doubt and wonder whether I should also make a subdivision in my consciousness, my thinking world, which is only partly parallel to reality, between what is strictly under the private domain of my individuality. And what can be considered the public space of what makes me who I think I am. The awareness that there are others besides me who can only exist in my image and likeness. Not being or being completely different for one’s own consciousness is neither a possible nor an acceptable condition. In the private domain of my consciousness, it does not matter who I am. Reigns the perfect calm and peace of not being able to contradict yourself. Can I so it feels safe, throw off my individuality like a snake lost the old skin, he once lived in. Do I live as if in a Turkish harem or bathhouse, to which no one but the self has fully naked access. It is there in that space of my consciousness closed off and free of other people’s blemishes, where the most original unspeakable thoughts meander like the snakes on Medusa’s head.
And the second, the public space that I have to share with the others like a swimming pool of all things, while voluntarily leads as often to afforced choices as to a refusal to stay with yourself. Not that I completely lose my individuality in that pool, but in order not to get lonely, I feel obliged to keep my head above water in it, treading water as if for swimming certificate A. To swim laps like a hungry shark together with those I have granted access to my Olympic pool. The gnawing shark of love that does not leave the willing flesh untouched alongside the mind swearing of weakness. The love that at this age gives me only the words to thank myself, for the awareness I shared with her right down to the cave of our togetherness, our private domain. Do I realise blind from an undying longing that self-knowledge in its ultimate form is only a reminder of what would have been within the realms of possibility if I had consciously possessed that self-knowledge earlier. If I had live’d by that, my life could have been one hell of a happy Christmas!
Ludo
