No summer without a Norway missive. That’s what I’m thinking. But as these days I’m growing more and more tired of rhetoric – and clichés make me want to kill myself – I’m thinking that the best way to convey a message to all those who have been inspired by my Nordic adventures is to insist on practicing the magic of contradiction. I believe in contradiction. I pledge my allegiance to contradiction, as contradiction is the only thing that keeps us away from piling up on conformist masks. For me, the best way of living an uncomplicated life is to make sure that I have both feet well anchored into two worlds: the world of logos and the world of mythos. All physicists, mathematicians, and logicians (especially those interested in computations and permutations) know that life happens in and off contradiction. It is better to be dead and alive at the same time than dead but deluding yourself that you’re alive, or alive but thinking all the time that it would be better to be dead. So, up here in this magical place, the Lofoten Islands, I contradict myself. While enjoying the Jacuzzi and the aromatic oils at the place I’m staying for a whole month, I keep claiming that I like the cold because it makes my brain stay vigilant. I keep claiming that I like the rain because it makes all this earth smell like heaven – and how could it? – while also sticking my head into the pressure cooker in a steaming kitchen where all things lamb, goat, and fish are under preparation. The warmth of the house against Avalon and troll conditions makes me want to strip naked and walk about in the garden on cloud and green moss. Yesterday I took a dive into the Arctic waters, and I felt like Godiva washing her hair in ice and fire. Words words words. Beckett was right. All writing is a sin against speechlessness. The truth needs no words. Truth stares us in the face. It laughs at us. It laughs at our mistakes, which we make because lying is more convenient. But never here. Not in the Arctic. The light goes right through me like laser, cutting all that which is not necessary. Truth is an essentializer. My knees go down, and I pray in gratitude. I can really do whatever I want. And I am really exactly where I want to be. And I really have the whole world working for me. That’s magic, and it goes beyond words and worlds.


Anonymous said…
Camelia dragă, genul ăsta de de/scriere n-are cum să fie comentat. Doar, poate, meditat. Mulţumesc!!!!
the magic of contradiction

the magic of con-tradition

the magic of contraction

the magic of contrition

the magic of diction

the magic of radio

the magic of cacti

the magic of orion

the magic of onion
the radio of infinity.
Fortune Buchholz said…
Contradiction = To Nordic Antic

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