Bio:fiction film festival

10 impressions

1  The Museum of Natural History as well as the Bellaria cinema offer a real unique atmosphere, which was even more beautiful when the musicians were playing at the gala event

2 The conversations I had were very cool although sometimes I talked too much instead of listening.

  (Hmm a very general statement, nevertheless my thanks especially go to Malthe, Rüdiger, J.J.,Virgil and Laurens and to my employers and colleagues)

3 In some of the discussions a seemingly unnecessary polarization occurred. Some people only see black and white although their intellectual capacities seem to go far beyond that.

4 I especially appreciated the tough work done by Helge and Alexander who spent lots of time observing and will spend a lot of time analyzing the festival

5 At some point I was alone in a corridor after 10p.m., the light was dim and I was surrounded by all sorts of bears, a polar bear among them. That was a unique experience.

6 The mix of people, speakers and audience alike was wonderful again.

7 I was not bored for one single second. That is special for two and a half days.

8 The after show party at Rote Bar in Volkstheater, was as nice as the one three years ago

9 It seems to be quite fruitful and interesting to organize such a festival more than once in a lifetime

10 However, this is also an ecological niche, that was miraculously filled for three days.

Ecological niche

I occupy an ecological niche in the culture that surrounds me. It keeps me going and alive.
My tastes seem unusual to me, maybe a little bit nerdy but not too much.
My work is hard to explain, but is somewhere between total euphoria (Bio:fiction film festival) and depression (useless discussions with people who love to listen to themselves talking)
My lifestyle is between Zen philosophy and fast-as-lightning capitalist acolyte.
It is time to make decisions.
It seems to be the right time.
Freedom seems to be at hand.

Eeeeeleeeectricity

Yes

Stuck in matter

Just before starting work I am stuck in matter. The material world has caught me.
I am trapped.
However, this is a good feeling. Although a way of escape seems invisible or unreachable, I am feeling fine.
Although freeing one's mind should be the objective, I am a happy prisoner now. I am here and I am feeling a sense of presence amidst all the rubbish and nice things that surround me.
And I am giving in.
It makes me a free prisoner, a paradox a singularity.
Let's get going:
I have filled a jar stuffed with coral sand and shells with gin to purify the mixture and to get rid of the smell. I do not care if it works because I have shut the lid of the container again, and I am outside and not inside of it. The alcohol is pushing the smell out of the glass and it reminds me of our time in Ireland when we collected the sand and the shells.
So the ocean is with me here in Central Europe. My material prison is suddenly filled with the smell of the Atlantic Sea.
What a nice starting point for working myself out of the rubbish.

While I am writing this IS troops are fighting Kurds near the Turkish border to Syria, farming planes are spraying tons of pesticides on GMO crop fields, new nuclear power stations are being built or tested, Ebola is finding its way out of Africa and millions of people are wondering how to get food or clean water.

What else can I be but happy, that for the moment I am not involved in any of this, be grateful to be trapped in my illusion of safety, somewhere in a quiet place on this crazy planet. I wish that any of my next movements and actions could reduce the suffering, be of any help to anyone.

As I keep passing through little moments in other people's lives I will try to give them a little of the peace I am enjoying now…

…and a smile.

Reincarnation again

…hurts. Either way. The Osiris and the Christ version.
It gives you headaches, loss of orientation and depression.
On the other hand it is nice to be back, back from the beyond.
The first Wiener Schnitzel after death or insanity is a true feast.
The first kiss, the wind and the rain, the sun and the song of a distant bird.
They are very intense.
However something seems to be lost, lost in transition, in translation, in metamorphosis.
Some elements seem to be lost forever, although they are here forever (as Parmenides would say).
Digging up the dirt again is also a very painful process.
And you promise to turn back next time before it is too late again.
Hopefully.