Am I right here? 

"Are we at the right place here?", "Where do you want to go?" "I don't know..." Hopefully someone simply points in the right direction and says, "Go there".

That's about how we went by car yesterday to this place where you may have a nice walk - and not far away from Tullow. Because Covid-19 sets limits, even if they are hardly ever checked. Cousin Margaret had explained to Sinéad how to get to this place. But Sinéad seemed a little confused. She spoke of "Take a left at the bar, then a right, the next one to the north and then south again, and then about another half a mile". Something like that.

Sinéad wanted to transpose these instructions into our perspective, wanted to translate what Margaret had said into the direction we were coming from. So first right, and then left, the opposite of what Margaret had told her from her own perspective, and so on. I got dizzy listening to her description and kind of logical considerations. I had no idea myself, no local knowledge. I knew only one thing: a mess. We didn't find this place at last, but ended up at an old Neolithic tomb, and that was nice. And interesting. And the drive was not too long, and the footpath not too far and therefore strenous. Just fine. So we will try again to find this promised beautiful hiking trail, and hope that even if we won't find it again, we will always discover something worthwhile.

"Tumba de Portal" Dolmen Browneshill, con megalito de 100 toneladas (Wiki)

Como respuesta a mi afirmación "Ni idea (de adónde voy)", o incluso a mi confusa expresión, me alegraría que alguien respondiera simplemente "Ve allí, estás ahí", o incluso mejor un simple "Ve allí", de forma clara y distintiva. Porque entonces también es correcto. Espontáneamente, como me dijo una vez Daniel Bianchetta en Esalen, una vez un colectivo hippie que se ofrece hoy en día a descubrir su potencial. Era mi jefe en la cocina, y también ofrecía meditaciones y lecturas corporales en su Creek House, que fue construida directamente encima de una cascada que fluía directamente hacia el Océano Pacífico. Una vez me había mostrado el camino en mi confusión, que era tan completa como clara, de una manera tan creativa. Y terminé en la cocina. Todavía me gusta eso hasta el día de hoy.

Justo ahora pensé que vivir en esta selva ayudaría de vez en cuando si alguien tuviera una idea creativa. Echo de menos eso. Me gusta cuando alguien más sabe dónde puedo ir, y no tengo que saberlo todo yo mismo. Eso es simplemente demasiado aburrido. Sólo una señal, como una piedra, una flor que parece sonreír, una rama rota, o el mensaje publicitario acortado a lo esencial. Simplemente claro. Me gustan las ideas locas. Encajan en este mundo loco.

Entonces, ¿qué debo hacer? El vuelo a Guatemala fue cancelado de nuevo y no tengo ni idea de por qué, no sé los hechos, las razones, ni qué hacer. ¿Reglas del Covid-19 como distancia social, menos pasajeros permitidos? ¿Y qué vuelo se ve afectado? ¿Dublín-Madrid o Madrid-Guate? Parece que sólo mi reserva de asiento ha sido cancelada. Razón indeterminada. ¿No tiene cuenta de millas gratis, no es un viajero frecuente? ¿Sólo un relleno, un cliente de clase turista? ¿Tal vez tendría que volar en primera clase, o en clase turista? ¿Ser privilegiado, ser tratado con respeto? Aparentemente no hay más asientos disponibles de Dublín a Madrid hasta mediados de enero. En Aer Lingus todos los vuelos están "totalmente reservados". El único vuelo que pude encontrar fue con Qatar Airways, por mil o dos mil euros, y eso en medio de la noche, sin ninguna conexión con Guate en Madrid.

Encontré una alternativa con United Airlines vía Londres y Washington a Ciudad de Guatemala, al aeropuerto llamado Aurora. ¡Tenía que intentarlo! Pero "finalmente" parece claro que no puedo entrar desde Irlanda ni pasar por los EE.UU., ni siquiera el tránsito es posible. Y que desde Irlanda, una patria de los EE.UU., o la madre patria. Todo el mundo aquí tiene parientes en los EE.UU., y he aprendido a entender mejor por qué los EE.UU. es la "América" tal como es. Aunque los irlandeses, por supuesto, dicen que sólo se han adaptado al estilo de vida americano, y no al revés.

De cualquier manera: EE.UU., de ninguna manera. Supongo que esto también es cierto en otros países europeos, porque la situación de los Covid 19 allí parece ser aún más desafiante en este momento. Pero de todas formas no tiene nada que ver con la racionalidad. Es extraño que los EE.UU., el país de la inmigración, el país de la libertad, de todos los países, tenga las condiciones más duras. La hospitalidad de los EE.UU. en el siglo XXI. No es de extrañar que todo se vaya a la mierda allí. Pero al menos pude hablar con una persona real de United Airlines. Se tomó su tiempo, aclaró mi situación cuidadosamente y me dijo lo que estaba pasando. Es un buen comienzo. Y tal vez es bastante bueno que estemos una vez más en el cagadero, y no podamos obstinadamente y sin ninguna duda continuar con estos absurdos planes autodestructivos de la civilización que no tienen ni manos ni pies.

Como la mayoría de la gente, he olvidado que vivimos en la jungla, simplemente aturdidos por las promesas que nos hemos hecho a nosotros mismos. En busca de comodidad, y en la lucha contra la transitoriedad. Hemos creado esa situación nosotros mismos. Quienquiera que seamos. El pensamiento humano ha abierto la puerta a este auto-engaño, e incluso hablar de engaño es permanecer enredado en este pensamiento. Después de todo, el pensamiento no ayuda a planificar el futuro, sino a construir cosas que luego se independizan, de las que no podemos deshacernos, de las que ya no sabemos cómo deshacernos, o reciclar, como tan cómodamente lo llamamos. Para devolverlas al ciclo de la vida. Como si pudiéramos eludirlo. El hombre en el siglo XXI. Iluminado. Suavizado. Un desastre. Billones y billones de construcciones de pensamiento que se contradicen entre sí. Y nadie sabe a dónde nos llevará el viaje. "¿Adónde quieres ir?". "Oops, lo olvidé." "No importa, sigue en esta dirección, encontrarás lo que estás buscando." Gracias. Una respuesta clara, te lo agradezco.

That the world - we often speak of our environment - is hostile to us is only one of the misleading self-deceptions. But perhaps we must and want to deceive ourselves so that the game can continue. The show must go on. If we could or would see everything so clearly, the game would be over in a minute. But why do we think that the ("surrounding") world is basically hostile in the first place? Isn't it because we see ourselves as independent beings, (theoretically) endowed with the same basic rights, who even have dignity (as opposed to what, or whom?), something like mechanical robots that function rationally, untouched and uninfluenced by emotions and confused thoughts, completely detached from others, but unfortunately threatened by rust (or Covid-19) (Use stainless steel, or plastic! Vaccinate!), with the question of recycling arising. And also the fact that these machines require an infinite amount of energy is often forgotten. So even with an independent machine, it is inevitable that a gigantic infrastructure must be created to ensure its so called independence. Pretty strange.

People are basically bad, we confirm it to ourselves daily, it is broken into, lied to, cheated on, and killed, even if far less than the entertaining news industry would make us believe. So we are bad. The fact that we have created the foundations for this deficiency ourselves (property, right to live, independence) is quickly forgotten. Aren't we just animals who want to survive and do so as long as we can, as long as a will to live drives us? Why do we think that being an animal is so much worse? At the same time we visit zoological gardens, read humanized animal stories, love nature films, and admire animals from afar for their beauty and freedom. To then kill them right away, or to rob them of their livelihood.

A mess. Not completely new though. It always was. For me, the confusion once began like this, and once more I have to dig deep down into my virtual treasure chest, the story of my past, of my origins. My father had told us - at least that's how it has deeply engraved in my eternal memory: "You are intelligent, and therefore responsible for the world!". I got stuck with that and did not know what to do. Never. But yes, I had to take steps, of course. I was alive. No doubt about it. Whether illusion or not, Maya or reality, it doesn't matter. But intelligent? and therefore responsible? And who determines what this intelligence is, and how the resulting responsibility is to be seen and taken? You are responsible for the well-being of others, but you are not even allowed to have a say in what this well-being looks like? And you yourself are even falling by the wayside? Simply too many questions, and especially why I should be intelligent and others not. And that always mixed with the pride by this intelligence being recognized in me. Yes, what is intelligence? Many words, fit for writing a thesis at the University about "authority and conscience"? Yes, I did that. But it didn't help. The fact remained that I resisted, had to resist because it made me helpless and confused. I did not want to be either one or the other. That doesn't bring laurels and doesn't fill a bank account. Does not give me credit.

So I remained confused, I still am. But what the heck. I have always sided with minorities, with the confused, the lo(o)sers, the alcoholics and the street cleaners. Or underestimated accountants. Just always on the other side. Sure, they don't write so-called scientific texts. They simply do their job, even if they only put their thumb on the wounds from which the pus of our civilization flows. Stop idealizing these people! We are not getting anywhere like this. Who is lazy is lazy, and who is stupid is stupid. Yes, too lazy to think, to use its muscles, and stupid for thinking one is intelligent, more intelligent than others. I know what I'm talking about.

So I wander, one step at a time, go where my feet follow. Also in thoughts. I trust my thoughts. No, not in their asumed absolute meaning, but like a fine muscle that keeps me in balance. My muscle, yes. Not the muscle that we have recognized as the most important one. Just this little muscle, the one that is nipping. The thought that visits me, and oops, is gone again. I approach my confusion with respect, I treat it with care, and hope that I prove myself worthy of it.

Will you accompany me? Are you still here? Thank you. Where shall we go? That way? All right, let's go there!

PS: Sinéad (who else) baked bread again yesterday. Just a simple, light one, with a nice crust, as she said. We tried it this morning. And she remarked: "I wouldn't go a mile for that bread". But me, "I would, if I knew that I could get this decent loaf of bread there". Even more than a mile.

Between a rock and a hard place. It is a fact that I am stubborn and obsessed with detail. Strange, my complicated way of looking for the simple. Trust my dreams and my feet at the same time. Yes, I also trust my feet very much, even if sometimes - like yesterday - I just don't know what to do anymore, and stumble. I still want to go to Guatemala. But it is difficult to explain the "reasons" exactly. It simply remains my next step. But how? Ironically, Covid-19 doesn't allow me to do the easiest and least dangerous thing, flying from Dublin to Madrid, in order to fly directly to Guatemala (not knowing if I can compensate for that :-). Dublin is out, and I have to get to Madrid somehow, everything much more exposed, more risky. Will it work? I don't know. I hope so. Vivian sent me a song by Emily Estefan, the daughter of Gloria, to brighten up the day, to cheer me up in this challenging situation as a migrant stuck between a rock and a hard place. Thank God I have learnt in the meantime to sit on hard ground. And thank you, Vivi for the simple direction, the kind I meant, but completely unpredictable of course :-): "Mi Tierra / Oye Mi Canto"  sung by Emily Estefan, Live at the Library of Congress Gershwin Prize 2019.