Dec 31 2016

Operation Ragnarök

Brœðr muno beriaz
ok at bǫnom verða
muno systrungar
sifiom spilla.
Hart er í heimi,
hórdómr mikill
—vindǫld, vargǫld—
áðr verǫld steypiz.
Mun engi maðr
ǫðrom þyrma

Ibland får jag känslan av att saker jag nyligen läst om återkommer oftare och oftare därefter, nästan som om att “något” pekar en i den riktningen. Mer troligt är att vårat nyfunna intresse till något får oss att undermedvetet leta eller se dessa saker.

Har under de senaste åren uppmärksammat åtskilliga dokumentärer som bland annat upplyser oss om våran nedskräpning, uppvärmning och utfiskning av våran planet.

I somras skickade min far denna annorlunda, om än väldigt intressanta, artikel till mig:
War Is Coming
Tycker personligen att den onämnda skribenten av artikeln är “spot on” i många avseenden.

Därefter ramlade David Jonstads bok, Kollaps: Livet vid civilisationens slut, från 2012, ner på mitt bord i höstas.
För den som inte läst den rekommenderar jag den starkt. Han sammanfattning av historien och våran nuvarande sköra situation är helt klart en av de bästa hittills.

Då jag återkommande gånger nu tjänstgjort utomlands i u-länder samt gillar tanken av att vara en s.k. “prepper”, så uppmärksammar jag onekligen vissa av människans värsta sidor, och finner ett konstigt än dock djupt intresse i detta.
Speciellt i de länder vi ofta “glömmer” bort eller helt enkelt skiter i att räkna med när vi pratar om den “välfärd” som vi vill ska sprida sig över jordklotet utan större eftertanke på vilka resurser det verkligen skulle krävas…

Där säkras den faktiska, om än långsamma, undergången av den civilisation vi känner till idag.

> Hur kan den pågående välfärden, transhumanismen och (om vi nu hinner med) singulariteten möjligtvis lösa dessa problem?
> Finns det något annat sätt?

I mörkret ser jag en ljusglimt i samband med det nya året. En människas obevekliga tro på hopp. Om än är även denna väg färgad med mycket blod och död av den mänskliga populationen som vi envisas med att låta växa då barnadödlighet motverkas, kromosomfel accepteras fullt ut, alla ska ha sin egen avkomma och slutligen att all form av mänskligt liv förblir “heligt” i vårt starkt vinklade och instinktiva synsätt.
Alla ska med. We’re doomed.

 

Gott nytt år, bröder och systrar.


Nov 10 2016

Painstaking

a :  usu. localized physical suffering associated with bodily disorder (as a disease or an injury); also :  a basic bodily sensation induced by a noxious stimulus, received by naked nerve endings, characterized by physical discomfort (as pricking, throbbing, or aching), and typically leading to evasive action

b :  acute mental or emotional distress or suffering :

 

Let’s mention something about pain.

Somewhere, I firmly believe it is better to feel whatever pain you have “as fully and as deeply as you possibly can”. Be it physical or psychological, let’s pay attention to it, observe it and dig into the knowledge it brings.

Most people hate it. Even I do the majority of times it hit me in chest. But almost always, it gives me something to work on, something to learn and eventually give back to the world. Pain can be the harbinger of enlightenment, while at the same time, Pain can be the harbinger of doom. Perspective and approach.
Wierdly enough, the heavily armed helicopters hovering above, promising the apocalypse for certain people, doesn’t bother me the least. The worst war in the last few years, as a neighborhood, doesn’t hit my empathy to its fullest extent.

The pain of longing and somewhat fear of a future unknown, is my on-going experience. But, at the same time, it is also the only real pain I feel right now. Approaching that with neutrality gives me a lesser approach bliss. Observing it with objectivity lets me handle life itself on a different level than ever before.

I got all the recipe for everything. Just pause, breathe and look inside. Then just go.


Apr 23 2016

The Plan

[plan]
noun
  • a scheme or method of acting, doing, proceeding, making, etc., developed in advance:
    battle plans.
  • a design or scheme of arrangement, a specific project or definite purpose:

    plans for the future.

 

A year later, nothing has really changed.

Yet, at the same time, everything will.

You never told yourself that it would an easy choice.

 

Welcome back.

 

 


Sep 28 2013

stone in focus

I find myself… Have I found myself? Quite a peculiar way of putting it, if you ask me.

Anyway, I find myself in a position of vulnerability. A feeling of low self-esteem hits me as a stone in the face. A stone in focus.
Why, you ask. Because I do not believe in myself?
Why, I ask. Because I do think I believe in myself. At least an illusion of a self that I try to inhabit and portray.

Moment of now, I find myself surrounded by men in transparent uniforms. Uniforms which themselves silently speaks with an unclaimed authority and a household of knowledge and history. A history that I do not hesitate to admire to the very core of my being. History that I imagine I can never be a part of.And maybe that’s the thing about everything. When you can’t have it, you may want it even more.

So where is my contentment?
I can feel it as it ripples inside me, calling for my outmost attention. I can, and I will now feel content where I am and ultimately who or what I am. I’ve come this far. Walking beside the titans of my age and culture.

I came here, through You, my eternal curse of love. Through myself and through the ever on-going cosmos.

Let’s jump through the rabbit hole. Once more.


Jun 30 2013

Neverending Chapter of Change

No longer do I stand in servitude under officers in green.
No longer may I find anxiety or inner turmoil in a uniform.
No longer do I stand ready to be trained to kill.

Relief. Contentment. Justification.

Traces will be there. Memories shared; brothers wrestling, guns firing, officers proclaiming the honor and complete perfection of a soldiers life. I will miss it while I thrive in its absence. I justify this to myself, even though I know, deep within my heart, that I have not yet fully cut the umbilical cord just yet. 

Nothing remains the same. I may call this a change of chapters, but the change is just a radical as it was a year ago, a month ago and yesterday.
Change is a ever happening phenomena, and we should embrace it. Even though I ought to cause us pain. Pain, in all its glory, should be embraced as a teacher.

May God give me strength to face the coming storm. May Buddha guide my path through the inevitable apocalypse. May You stand right next to me, when everything happens.


Feb 12 2013

Guarding Time

Time bending. Time teleporation. Time expanding. Time flowing. Time stopping.

At this moment, in time, there is a lot of suffering in the domain of time. “Time flies” as they say. But there is a lot of sayings about time, without anyone really knowing what time is.
I, for one, does not understand it. Nor do I think I will ever come to such understanding. What I do know is that I have to accept it.

Conventionally, time is divided into three distinct regions; the “past”, the “present”, and the “future”. Based on our categories and understandings in the same order; “memories”, “perception”, and “expectations”. That is our human way of describing time at this hour.
Still, I cannot discard the thought of it being an illusion of sorts. Several philosophers, including Anthipon and Parmenides, went further, maintaining that time, motion, and change were illusions. The buddhist also share this idea of thought. This thought spiral leads to a lot of paradoxes and may never hit the thinker with a clear and transparent answer though.

“Time is not an empirical concept. For neither co-existence nor succession would be perceived by us, if the representation of time did not exist as a foundation a priori. Without this presupposition we could not represent to ourselves that things exist together at one and the same time, or at different times, that is, contemporaneously, or in succession.”

Furthermore, I can see an end to my time as a soldier. A concept i’ve held onto. An ideal I still admire and salute to.
My current progress towards this end is less romantic than one would imagine. A royal guard. Castle guard. The King’s (or Emperor’s) personal guard. I will guard with honour and with my life. I create all these illusions to enhance my own moral. So, in truth, to remain sane, I do imagine myself being one of the following, with the following oath of course:
Royal Gurad Oath

Royal Gurad Oath

Imperial Royal Guard

Imperial Royal Guard – Emperor’s Chosen

Samurai Imperial Guard

Samurai Imperial Guard

LEGOKnekt?

LEGOKnekt?

 

Amarr Victor.

Sep 9 2012

Every war is different, every war is the same.

For most problems the soldier is issued a solution. If ill, go to sickbay. If wounded, call a Medic. If dead, report to graves registration. If losing his mind, however, no standard solution exists.

A story: A man fires a rifle for many years, and he goes to war. And afterward he turns the rifle in at the armory, and he believes he’s finished with the rifle. But no matter what else he might do with his hands, love a woman, build a house, change his son’s diaper; his hands remember the rifle.

 

Fuck politics. We’re here. All the rest is bullshit.

– Quotes originating from Jarhead, by Anthony Swafford


Sep 1 2012

Capital of Decay

A small journey filled with beauty, humour, transparency, disgust and foremost patience.
You could imagine a place of disgust and despair. A place where the mere scent of it all is sole witness of what has happend there.
But when you stand inside that place, it surely is much worse than you could ever imagine. I’ve seen the capital of human decay. I have seen a side of humanity that shouldn’t exist. A place where God is sought every waking minute but only the Devil has responded.

The brief visit to Kabul was not itself mindblowing. As always, it’s the journey itself. I must confess that my earlier thoughts on this mission had traces that resembled a sort of empathy or will to help the people of this country.
Over the years, they’ve been promptly destroyed.
By none other than the people itself. The belief that we actually could make a difference to these war-torned people. Of course we do change and make a little difference. Problem is that they just couldn’t care less..
The majority of the afghan people doesn’t care who I am. They don’t care about any ecological systems that define their country. The only thing that matters most is their illusions of how their religion is practiced and how they, alone, will survive until tomorrow.
They are the worlds most efficient people on accepting lazyness into their lives.
I’ve made a personal note to place the afghan people as a sub-culture and race within hte human race – referring to that they may only look human. They may have traces of our instincts and some of our feelings. But anything resembling of human willpower and understanding as we know it are an illusion.

So then, you say, who can blame them? Without any educational system to support them in their youth they can’t be blamed for their incompetence?
Over 4 million people lives in Kabul. None of them ever grows up being an adult. It’s a city filled with 4 million retarded children – trying to build houses, driving cars and running a family of their own in the name of Allah. Without any resemblance of success.
My language is harsh, I know. But truth be told.

Of course there are a minority that makes a difference. There always is. A minority that alone lifts up this shattered country. Like Atlas, they’ve achieved in gaining all my respect. But I don’t talk minorities in this entry.

I find some peace in knowing this might very well be the last time I visit and work in this forsaken corner in the world.

Moreover, the ecological system of this place has to have it’s shed of light. The road to Kabul is an 15 hours drive through the foots of the himalaya mountains. The salang pass, stretching up to 3400 meters, is wondrous as you pass in it’s wake. It wasn’t built for humans. If God ever built such a thing, is was for the ancient giants. I couldn’t feel more tiny in the presence of something so massive. I also traveled through the Salang Tunnel, built in 64′ by he Soviets, which was responsible for the deaths of about 2700 people in one instance.
I played with the thoughts that Afghanistan was once below the ocean, and the walls of the pass I could examine on the journey, were once filled with an ocean – the mountain walls telling the story with their endless scars.
Ultimately I noticed how tired my mind actually was when I was beginning to imagine whales and other pre-historic animals swiming above my head while travelling..

It’s time to rest. I will meditate on this later.

Lance Corporal Fresh,
Out.