Event Horizon

No it is not the movie I am writing about (though that gave me some shivers some time ago). It is not about some physical theory either. It is the event horizon of individual perception.
And Zen.
Yes. This is actually one topic. While Bowie is singing "Changes" into my ears, I try to make my point.
You can get adicted to widening the horizon. You can get mad if it explodes. You can use drugs and you can use other kicks.
Usually this happens all too fast. To get a good knowledge of the territory you can perceive, to get a real good map of your world, it takes time. It takes time to sit, as Zen people would do. Of course there are other ways than Sôtô meditation, but all of them take time.
So stop where you are and look around. Where have you put your shoes when you entered the apartment, and what is the color of the carpet? That is essential.
It is not essential to go everywhere. Do you know yourself? Gnothi seauton!
Yes, I especially mean you, who is wandering the night alone, in search for the next beam of light. You who gave me this face. Sit down and rest my friend. Your enlightenment is false and will burn away like the flame of a torch. It is time to get back to the ground, to feel the earth again.
It will hurt, yes indeed, but we are merely human beings. Our lot is to work ourselves through the dirt. Per aspera ad astra.
I am looking forward to sitting next to you at the edge of the road and to watch the fast cars pass by.
You will laugh at your past madness. We will meet at a real slow place, in a pup somewhere, where time stands still. You will appreciate the fog and abhor the blinding light you are in now.
Finally you will have friends and family again.
You are free to chose. You can take the fast road into the light of perdition or you can turn around and follow the hard road, the long path back to mankind. There you can regain strength and freedom, real freedom, not the freedom of Icarus.
Enough for now.
See you in the citadel.
A friend.

Frankenstein

Finally I found time to read Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. Brilliant. Hubris in its most beautiful romantic form.
The other book I'm reading is Atran and Medin's Folkbiology, which is sometimes much weirder, for instance when discussing New Guinean bird names.
I am listening to Jerry Garcia playing "Sitting on top of the world" and I miss the Bauernbergpark Man.
Two days ago I passed by his summer quarters (which are two adjacent bark benches near a long turn of the road) and all his belongings were scattered on the ground. He was gone.
I hope he has a warm place to stay before the winter comes to the park.
I wonder how the Man really feels and if he is sometimes as lonely as Shelley's monster. Who can tell?
What shall I read next?
Ah. Phillip Balls's "Unnatural" comes to my mind.