The Lonely Ape

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 In 1967 the British Anthropologist Desmond Morris published a book that would make him forever famous , The Naked Ape. The naked ape is nothing more than our own tormented and at the same time magnificent species .
In this remarkable book Morris show us how our species is so amazingly similar to our so called "savage " fellow simians even in things that we thought , in our sheer arrogance, that were specifically and unequivocally ours.
One thing though i believe that its sadly ours and ours only : The lonely nature of human condition .
Unlike the other simians , we have a sharp sense of our finitude , of our demise , and this put us in a rather existencial waste land that our desperate social masquerades cannot really disguise.
We fear loneliness and try to surround ourselves of people all the time in order to think in our life journey we have someone at our side .  Hence the reason why we struggle to find a partner , to share moments, experiences , even emotions , when in reality there is what Kant called " the thing in itself " which most basic , elemental almost sub atomic structure of our inner being that can never be transmitted to no one . Each and every one of us is a phenomena that can only be perceived poorly by an outsider . Plus the strong sense of individuality that we cherish as our most precious of treasures , give us the poisonous gift of choice . a choice that can only be made by each and everyone of us , because its our life and no one else´s .

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The unbearable burden of choice throw us into the dark world of loneliness.
And even when the choice is not made by me , even when  others that i held in a power higher than mine or , like Ortega Y Gasset states , the circumstances of my life compel me to choose , the consequences of that choice will upon me and me only. Grasping this responsibility in its full extent gives me the pungent and distressed feeling of loneliness.
Every experience of my existence is perceived by me in my flesh . Only i will bleed and only i will rejoice . And in the moment of my Death , the ultimate and supreme moment of loneliness, only i will feel the cold grip of Thanatos.
Nothing is more pathetic , tragi-comic than the sinister spectacle of the relatives and friends of the dying around his deathbed .
Hopeless attempt of mitigating his infinite loneliness .
The Poet John Donne was wrong when he said : " no man is an island entirely of himself".
Indeed we are islands . Always trying to connect with the main land but in the end realizing that that connection is an illusion , a " veil of Maya ".
I share the wish of Walt Whitman , i too would love to be like the animals , immersed in the comfort of the moment , with no past and no future , true children of eternity escaping the jaws of Time.
Happiness is not knowing what happiness and not care about it. We humans care , and in there lies our misery and perhaps our greatness .

         

The North

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The popular adagio says that Home is the place where the heart is . Not the place born but the place where one´s soul inclines you to go .

Being born in the southern part of the European continent with its generous showers spells of solar radiation, more or else look alike  tropical beaches and people desperately seeking for physical displays of where one is

affections , I always felt pretty much like an alien in what was supposed to be my land .

The sun, an omen of happy and joyful moments for most people , to me it was always synonymous of an excruciating heat that my poor icy , snowy  nostalgic soul could never bear .

The heat always put me in a state of lassitude and often suffocation that made me comprehend the ritual of the siesta prevailing in some southern European cultures .

More than an inner anthropological trait , its actually a mechanism of self defense against the inclemency of our beloved star .

The Beaches , those strips of silicon that mercifully put an end to long voyage of the sea waves, in the summer are populated by  hordes of human beings that in a desperate attempt of fighting the heat only make it more pungently stronger , were always for me places of pure human folly .

Tell me Odin , the one eyed, in your infinite wisdom , why people seek beaches to freshen up in the most where the Heat is most strong ?

 

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The North , my beloved North is where my soul is !

Why I asked myself many times was the cold lands of the North so appealing to me when the people who lived there seek the warmest and most pleasant lands of the south !?

Well probably the reason for this is that as a human , I suffered from the illness of Dissatisfaction . One of the tragedies of Human Condition is that one is never entirely satisfied with what one has and always seek something that one doesn’t have thinking that perhaps this eternal pot of Gold that we call Happiness is lying somewhere in pastures that look greener than the ones we have . Some say that this is also our greatness because it compels us to excel and look and explore for more , expand our horizons .

Nevertheless , whatever it is that compels me , a southern , to those icy cold, snowy , misty lands it was they that I always trod in my inner world, those lands that the ancient Arabic travelers erroneously referred as “ the land of Darkness “.

Having they actually visited those northern realms , they should more accurately call it “ The Land of Extremes “ because to the extreme darkness of winter comes the extreme light of the summer .

Oh how I eager for those misty sea of conifers of the purest emerald color ; Those serene lakes embraced by timeless mountains crowned with snowy peaks ; the icy winter landscapes with its frozen rivers and the pristine , unspoiled , untouched beauty of that North mysterious kingdom .

Where else can one behold one of nature´s most wondrous spectacles, The Northern Lights ?

In Norse mythology a legend suggests that the lights were reflections of the shields and armours of the Valkyrie , female warriors who would choose who may die in battle and who would live to fight another day.

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Dying in battle was quite important in the old Norse culture and the Northern Lights were also believed to be Bifrost the Bridge , a glowing and pulsating arch that led those fallen in battle to the warriors final resting place , Valhalla .

With the more romantic spirit , the Estonians on the hand believed that the Aurora ( Northern Lights ) to be a heavenly magnificent horse drawn carriages taken guests to a celestial wedding.

And the snow . My Most beloved snow. Eternal inhabitant of those lands, forever will touch my soul with its overwhelming pristine Beauty.

I love the contrasts that the snow does in nature between white and dark shades.

How beautiful forests look like with these abstract patterns .

And much they fill my soul with a sense of glee and belonging !

The North , my beloved North will always be carried by me in my soul no matter where I go because its where my Viking adventurous soul is .

Skol to you my most beloved North .

By The Light Of The Moon

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One of the many stories involving artists and their creative process , tells us about how Beethoven created his ethereal masterpiece , The Moonlight Sonata with its brilliantly melancholic 1st movement ( Adagio Sostenuto ).
Having born among the anonymous working masses of society , Beethoven , unfortunately for him, had to make a living by playing in soirees of the Aristocracy and the tale tells us that being rejected by a lady that he fancied , the genius of Bonn decided in an impulsive manner , so characteristic of himself, to leave the soiree and get into the warm summer night . There he beheld this beautiful full moon that inspired him in the composition of the great anthem of the Romanticism . The veracity of this story is of no importance here but what it is really important is that this story illustrates one of the most atavistic seductions of Man throughout History ; His fascination for the moon and fading light .
Since the dawn of time the satellite of our planet exercised in us a power that originated the 1st myths and later on some of the best artistic accomplishments of human ingenuity .
The Moon, especially when its full turns the night into a shady version of day , its magic inspiring all sorts of stories about creatures tat are too hideous, too monstrous to roam in day time among the so called " normal " , so to speak , creatures .
The rays of the Moon have the duplicity nature fighting the nightmarish imperium of the Night because the darkness , as a good Game of Thrones fan knows , is full terrors . But at the same time  those same rays who fights darkness also creates shadows that feeds our vivid imagination with all sorts of ghoulish phantoms . As the divine Poe says "... each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor ".
The moon kills the darkness of the night but brings forth the Demon of Fear that lurks in the most primitive recess of our soul .
I love the moon ! As its power controls the movements of the tides of the oceans of this planet , giving a periodic  , comfortable rhythm to nature , it also gives me the same comfort to my soul .
Bringing peace , serenity , a state of spirit the ancient Greeks refer to as Ataraxia , a freedom of disturbance of mind and anxiety, tranquility .
I think that is what Beethoven when he composed his magna opera , Moonlight Sonata .

The World Through The Eyes of a Romantic

The common view of the contemporary layman , reduces Romanticism to acts of courtship between two people that have sensual intentions towards each other given a pale image of one of the most fascinating cultural movements of the modernity that shaped the way we now see each other and interact with the world.
The Romantics gave us individuality and a value of our emotions as the real source of an aesthetic experience .
The movement was born in the end of the 18th century rooted in the Sturm und Drang ( Storm and Drive ) movement in Germany but rapidly spread to other European countries particularly in England, France and Italy .
This post does not pretend to tell the History of Romanticism which is vast and rich , but its important to know some of its characteristics and why i believe that i look at the world through the eyes of a Romantic .
As i have stated previously, the romantics placed a great value to the individual emotion , especially in the aesthetic experience and more specific in the free expression of the emotion by the artist .
as the great German painter Casper David Friedrich pointed " The artist`s feeling is the law ".
For the English poet William Wordsworth poetry should begin " as the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings which the poet then recollects in Tranquility " evoking a new but corresponding emotion that the poet can mold into Art .
Art had to sprung from the imagination of the artist and not submitted to artificial rules . Hence the supreme value of the Genius for the Romantics .
Not essencial in the Romantics but so widespread as to be normative was the profound belief and interest in the importance of Nature . It was seen as quite beneficial to the artist in his creative process to be left alone in communion with Nature.
Opposite to the social art of the Enlightenment , Romantics were distrustful of the Human World and tended to believe that a closer connection with Nature would be morally and mentally healthier . A derivative concert of the " good savage " idealism of Rousseau .

Having said this , if a skepticism towards human societies and its innumerable laws that constrict us and individuality driven mostly by emotions and not reason are the landmarks of a Romantic , then i must proudly say that i am a romantic and see the world through the emotional and somehow gullible eyes of an 18th century individual and not the analytical and practical eyes of a man of my Time.
Gullible as  might be i despise this age of usefulness and effectiveness that hunted down without mercy all the useless things that constitute the embodiment of artistic and creative expression .
We live in an Age that values objective , useful things , things with a purpose , a society of Tools. Not realizing that what truly define us as humans are those things that have no other purpose but to awaken in us feelings being of beauty , horror , of pure awe in its various forms .
I raise my chalice of happiness to the ornate of life ! To the Empire of the Useless because beauty flourishes within its borders.

Casper David Freidrich - Wanderer Above the Sea of Fog 1818

Child of the Nephilin

In Norse cosmology Niflheim is literally the  "World of Mist " . 

According the first part of the Poetic Edda also known as  Gylfanning , Niflheim is described as a primordial realm of ice and cold with the frozen rivers of Elivagar and the Fountain of Hvergelmir from which the mentioned rivers come from .

Niflheim is one of the two primordial reals to emanate from the primordial void the Norse called Ginnungagap . The other one being Muspelheim the real of fire .

This world of Mist later would be that abode of Hel , Goddess of the Underworld who received in her house of mist the unfortunate ones that did not die in battle .

Mist has always exercised in me a profound influence in my spirit not one of fear , sadness and even bad omen, but rather one of magic and wonder .

Nature has a way of drawing our attention to its intrinsic beauty . Who has never felt bewildered by the beauty of a landscape covered with the pure white blanket of snow ? Who had never felt the serenity of that vast sea of whiteness that releases you from the chains of your Ego just to make you awe with that nature`s marvel ? 

Mist its nature´s element of mystery , of dream . Mist is the way nature has to tell you that life is nothing but a dream , a chimera , a "...walking shadow " like the bard of Strafford Upon Avon brilliant observed . 

Poe says that " life is a dream within a dream " ; Calderon de La Barca " La vida es un Sueño " and mother nature show us in a beautiful misty , foggy winter day that indeed life is a dream .

When i walk through wet , ancient cobbled streets in a misty day i feel like a character in a Gothic tale for the enjoyment of a benevolent creature spending a cosmic winter , windy , cold day while drinking a nice cup of tea . 

I feel mysteries and nameless creatures lurking in that vaporous scenario . Silhouettes of unfinished works of a creative Deity .

What i wouldn´t give to be a character in the brilliant film of Alejandro Amenabar , The Others , just to live in that dreamy world of Mist !?

I am a child of Niflheim and there like any child my eyes sparkle with the sheer magic of life .

Mild the mist upon the hill
Telling not of storms tomorrow;
No, the day has wept its fill,
Spent its store of silent sorrow.

O, I'm gone back to the days of youth,
I am a child once more,
And 'neath my father's sheltering roof
And near the old hall door

I watch this cloudy evening fall
After a day of rain;
Blue mists, sweet mists of summer pall
The horizon's mountain chain.

The damp stands on the long green grass
As thick as morning's tears,
And dreamy scents of fragrance pass
That breathe of other years. 

                                    Emily Brönte

Eros & Psyche

written in the 2nd century AD by Lucius  Apuleius Madaurencis in his book "Metamorphosis" also known as " The Golden Ass", the story tells the obstacles that Eros ( Love ) and Psyche ( soul ) have to face till their sacred union is completed .

Many interpretations and readings can be made of this beautiful tale , but the one that interests me the most is the paradox of this union .

Can Eros and Psyche not live without each other as the myth says or one needs more the existence of the other to sustain its own existence ? 

Can we love without a soul ? can the soul exist without love ? 

To answer that we have to first be aware of who Eros really is .

in Greek Mythology Eros is the son of Aphrodite , Goddess of Love with Ares God of War. 

however Hesiod in his "Theogony " considers him son of Chaos, a primordial God .

There he describes him as being very beautiful and  irresistible which leads him to abandon his good judgement . Hesiod gives him a unifying role , contributing to the passage of Chaos to Cosmos ( Order ).

Plato however in his book Symposium , describes Eros in a very negative manner .

To him Eros depicted as being poor, homeless , always barefoot and sleeping on the floor. Plato describes him also has seeking constantly for beautiful bodies , hunting them with mischiefs, intrigues and lies . He is a philosopher , a sophist , making potent potions . Its nature is neither mortal or immortal and in one day when everything turns right to him , on the next day he will die just to return again on the next day . But everything he gets he loses quickly .

This very negative view that Plato has of Eros will set the way thinkers and mystics will look upon sensual love for centuries to come .

There will be a suspicion concerning the poisonous nature of Love and an attempt to protect the purity of the Soul from it .

Not only these thinkers and mystics thought that the Soul could live without Love , but it was preferably to do so. 

Sensual love with its obvious sexual connotations was seen as something disruptive and corruptive to the Soul. It drowned the soul into stormy waters , clogging one`s judgement .

Eros became forever seen as a reminder to man that he was an angel with clay feet unable to higher realms unless only his idealism and mysticism .

Strange creatures we are that so fiercely try to conceal our animalhood aspiring to a divinity that we never possessed .

Why this need to reject nature ? Reject the living breathing biology in us? Religion and Morality makes us sick and feeble like Nietzsche said. Shame is nothing but a moral category , artificial and abstract like all morality is. Embrace the Eros in us and let us invite us Psyche to celebrate this great, magical feast called LIFE .

Being Peter Pan

In 1902 , the Scottish Novelist and Playwriter , J.M.Barrie , in a novel called " The Little White Beard", introduces a character called Peter Pan who is a 7 days years old baby who has flown from his nursery to Kesington Gardens in London where the fairies and bird taught him to fly . He is described as a creature between a boy and a bird .
The character Peter Pan would later develop in to the archetype of the boy who would never grow up into manhood and also of a certain carelessness and selfishness towards life.
The expression " Being a Peter Pan " immediately adopted a negative connotation , implying the incapacity vs refusal , in accepting the painful contradictions that reality imposes onto every human being . Modern Psychoanalysis even adopted the name Peter Pan in reference to the inability that certain individuals have ( usually men but also some women ) to believe that they are of an older age and/or to engage in behavior usually associated with adulthood , by calling The Peter Pan Syndrome .
The concept became popular when in 1983 the American Psychoanalyst Dr Dan Kiley in his book " The Peter Pan Syndrome: Men Who Have Never Grown Up"mentions the fact that while doing therapy with teenage boys he detected an incapacity from them to grow up and accept adult responsibilities like the character of J.M.Barrie. And this problem continue into adulthood.

Without wanting to dispute the truth of a science i know very little if not nothing, i would like to put aside the pejorative association of  the name Peter Pan , so negative that even the British author Aldous Huxley associate it with the sinister figure of Adolf Hitler, and restaure the name into a more favorable manner .
Recognizing myself as one of those Peter Pans that roam the world like plagues of locusts in the fields of adulthood conformity , i see being Peter Pan as not a denial and refuse of dealing with reality but rather an harmless drug against its most poisonous effects .
Reality for an highly conscious being with all its contradictions , incoherences, is sometimes an unbearable and often traumatic experience. If we can alleviate the weight of that reality by creating our own personal Neverland even if briefly , i take that as an healthy mechanism of self defence , a balsam for one`s soul .
When in his extraordinary novel" Le Petit Prince" , Antoine St Exupéry makes the little Prince tell us that we should never lose the child inside of us with the risk that by doing so we will lose also the capability of seeing life with awe, wonder , magic; What is he telling us if not that Peter Pan must live with us!? Within certain boundaries of course. Because in the bottomless pit of the human mind the line between sanity and insanity is rather slim.