A Personal Update in Search of the Impersonal

Visible Origami — August 6, 2014

Dog Poet Transmitting…….
May your noses always be cold and wet.
Summer has bypassed us this year. Despite occasional days with a cooler sun there is mostly rain and a gray cloud cover. It’s the second day out of the rehab and I am sorting my things. I knew where everything was before I left but now it’s all a jumble, some of it in garbage bags and some of it in locations I have yet to discover. It’s a grim task to put it all in boxes and make it suitable for shipping somewhere. As it stands, half of it won’t be going anywhere because it’s either too big to pack, too expensive to ship vis a vis the value of the item, or it falls into a third category that is composed of many categories too numerous to catalogue.
I took a room in a pension about 7 K away, with the understanding that I would have internet but… despite bringing the router down into my room and having someone drive in who was as stymied as I at the end, there is no internet. See… there’s a code you have to put into the dialogue box to get the server to recognize you and give you an authorized pass but the dialogue box won’t come up and it then says ‘connected’ but there is no connection. As it so happens I have a Telecom stick which makes what I am doing here, this minute, possible but which is pricey and comes with a quite restricted bandwidth but… as I am limping already from the aftermath of my accident, it seems only fitting that I should limp in other ways as well (grin).
During the time I was in Rehab I scoured the net for apartments in 3 different locations where there are, in fact, numerous apartments and I reached out to the various agents who handle these rentals and with a single exception, no one got back to me. The one exception has also now disappeared through some bolthole in cyberspace. I take all this to mean that I am not meant to stay here any longer because it defies both logic and reason that I would meet with such difficulty across the board.
Now it turns out that there are places available but they are all right in the neighborhood of where I originally embarked from when I started this misadventure and the irony here is that that location is the least likely place around to have so many vacancies and not only that but… it is the more expensive of locations and the present options there are not. This makes no kind of sense whatsoever. Welcome to my life of the moment, here in the unpredictable and fickle atmosphere of this zeitpunkte.
I had thought I would finally get this language down and win myself permanent residency at the same time. I found schools in all of the locations that I was considering going to but no rentals appeared so… I spent the weeks sitting nearby people chattering away at each other and understood hardly a thing. After all this time; understanding so little. I see where I could learn to speak it. I just wouldn’t understand the replies (grin). This left me with the impression that, possibly, I should seek some new environ where people might not understand what I am saying and where I might not relate to what they are telling me but where… the words, at least, would have some relative meaning in a relative world, now teetering on the brink of widespread chaos.
As I contemplated my situation last night, I scanned the news and it was ominous to say the least. It’s been bad for awhile but it’s modulated into a higher frequency of tone. It’s a bit more shrill and on the runway to shrieking. Through my mind came the rumbling query; “where do you go sport (don’t call me sport)? Where do you go?
In the midst of this perpetuating uncertainty, a few days prior to my leaving the Rehab, I received an offer of residence in an attractive part of the motherland. It’s surrounded by national forests and actually in the woods. It’s affordable and not far from old associations of years past. It’s not the warmest of what’s available in the country but it’s not the coldest either. I’ve had many options come at me across time as I rotated in my office chair, circling in expatriot limbo. This one came in the midst of an ongoing inner dialogue of, “Hmmm, where do I go? Where do I go?” I thought it might be a message but… then again… I haven’t been all that good at reading the real implications of the choices that have come before me in recent times.
There is a crushing weight of depression circling about my head, as I try to get my various bits in order. It’s almost like something being pumped out of a hose through a roof tile. It makes my movements leaden. The simple act of deciding what to keep and what to take or send, leaves me feeling like Hobson and his options for choice which, of course, was no option for choice at all. It just looks like there is but unique to this circumstance, even the unavoidable option is veiled.
I’m not writing this today to depress the reader. My particular misery does not love company. I’m just following along with my full disclosure thing. That is a sort of personal imperative for me; not to gloss over conditions or paint things other than what they are in the hope that they will be.
As it stands, I can pack up what it’s possible to send off and address it to that location where it might be my intent to arrive and then simply walk the course between unfinished realities here; places I might yet have to be before I can go, based on promises made to be available up until a certain date. This concerns the possibility that I might be needed to sign something. That would account for the pursuit of temporary lodging and the truly odd phenomena of it putting me right back in the area I originally left.
I think part of the depression is due to seeing the amount of work I put into this place and the wonderment at the meaning of, which completely escapes me. Then there are those ludicrous things like do I take these blank CDs and couple reams of paper when they will cost as much to ship as replace? Is all of this memorabilia (probably not as much as most people have) worth remembering, or even necessary to the process? Are all these framed pictures of deities and teachers necessary? Muslims and others would say otherwise and you can always get more pictures. So… in the process of the sorting, the charged magnetism of each item sings its song for me, with varying levels of influence.
BUT… dangling over all of this, like that spectre from “The Frighteners” is the tempestuous threat of a world in great transformation. Will it be more or less this same world in a month? Surely it will not be by this time next year. BUT… you can shit and go blind attempting to second guess it cause you won’t get it right. At least I haven’t so far. It is at the very least, perplexing to the point of madness.
So… I will finish up here and I will got back to sorting my things and then, I suppose, I will be back here to post and read your responses later in the day, unless the Elf steps in.
We’ve all heard so many variations concerning what it is our province to perform and what we must, or should, leave in wiser hands. We’ve heard about being utterly reliant. I suspect under certain circumstances that will just leave you frozen in space. Sometimes you must proceed in faith and certitude that even if there is no positive result there will certainly be a lasting lesson (grin- ouch).
The more and more that I think about it as I am writing this today, it more and more comes into my head that the reason there is so much uncertainty and inexplicable blockage is because what is supposed to happen just hasn’t happened yet and sometimes you have no choice but to tread water in a tossing sea. It is to be supposed that at some point, the outline of land will appear between one bobbing wave and another.
Life is a series of tests and the more serious the tests, the more time and variables can come into play. Sometimes, with a particular test you can literally go no further until you have passed that test. It just rounds the corner again and again until you do. Possibly the good news with that is that you cannot fail either. Failure isn’t permitted. You just have to catch it right and eventually you do, or so it is presumed.
I’ve never been in a situation quite like this one before. In the past, the lines were pretty clear cut or I just made the decision and that was that. There’s something else at work here and I don’t know what that is. Whatever it is it is relentless and inflexible and factored into all of that (whatever ‘that’ is) is the state of the world and it’s moment to moment uproar upon uproar and insanity upon insanity. You pretty much have to laugh. It’s less likely to obstruct your vision than is the alternative and it does leave you with the potential benefit of having a lighter touch; “sorting it out here, Boss.”
End Transmission……

Patrick Willis:
Out of Function at Armageddon Junction

Visible’s Self-Improvement Guide,
Spiritual Survival in a Temporal World

- ‘An Exploration Toward the Ineffable’

Source

Otherwise known as Smoking Mirrors, Les Visible provides a voiceover in a disintegrating culture as Reflections in a Petri Dish. While in his guise as Visible Origami, Les offers perspectives on the invisible forces shaping our world

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