1072 Kilometres all together
30 Euros for two tunnels: Tauern and Karawanken
20 Euros Slovenia high ways
100 Euros gas oil for 1000 Kilometres drive
40 Euros for four night at Camping Places
| Facts: 550 Kilometres from my work to the sea 1072 Kilometres all together 30 Euros for two tunnels: Tauern and Karawanken 20 Euros Slovenia high ways 100 Euros gas oil for 1000 Kilometres drive 40 Euros for four night at Camping Places |
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| Each little journey feels like a liberation from the chains in robot like daily work:
'Happy hour in Mima's Motor Home.' Week's work is done. Sorrows and care for Old Mom and daughter are slowly fading away. Adventures inspire. Four free days ahead bring Mima's Sea Cow, the VW Transporter to the Austrian Ossiacher lake next to the border to Slovenia. Relaxed and alone in the car my life is enriched after a soft high way surf of 320 Kilometres. The inner battery fills up again with a natural flow of self caring love connected with all the loved ones. All beings on Mother Earth are included when happiness flows inside. |
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Germans are going insane this full moon: In the G-8 gathering the famous Fuehrer of the richest industrial countries
fantasy, how to cut the egoistic tendencies of the neighbour. Thousands demonstrate against these Global Power Players behind their 'Million Dollar
Fence' with more or less violence. Few journalists - like Thomas - get paid with crumbs falling from the table of the
Fuehrer. At the same week end in Cologne thousands of Evangelic Christians meet with a similar subject: 'How to save people from poverty, earth from exploration and climate from collapse?' Thoughts about this collective sickness create tension. With a barrel of diesel in the stomach of Sea Cow and a bottle of beer in mine, with sweet, soft music from the Austrian Hit Radio and with a walk to the Ossiacher lake body, heart, mind raises up to a drunken mood of well being. That's the 'Happy Hour in Mima's Sea Cow'! |
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| The morning is happy too. The Ossiacher Lake near the Austrian town Villach washes all sleep away. After a short breakfast soon Sea Cow drives through the 'Karavanken Tunnel' to Slowenia. The streets are crowed. In three hours I reach the sea, finally! Salty smell is refreshing. Next town at the sea is Izola or Isola. Sea Cow gets Diesel again. The camping place is just behind the gas oil station between the coast street and the harbour. A friendly retired Austrian tells, that the place is the cheapest one and open all year. Some inhabitants are refugees from the war. That fits perfect! My way is to escape from quarrels and sorrows with friends, daughter, Old Mom and from my woman Mimamai, but existence provides my next beautiful place of bliss with new nightmares! It's Friday. All my Fridays are free, 'cos money comes enough with part time work from Monday till Thursday. With a holiday on Thursday the week end is long enough to escape for two, three nights at the sea. I don't know, why the sea is healing in such mystical way, but I know she is! The smell of the sea makes me jubilee! Fresh is the morning bath with little fish, who dance jumping out of the water. Salt on my skin, salty air, slippery stones from water plants, birds shoot like arrows from the blue sky decorated with white clouds to catch a fish. Marvellous moments rise up to ecstasy! |
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| Joyous myself most people look happy. Water washes most troubles away! Troubles with friends, sorrows about the sickness of my daughter, my mother, tiny thoughts are taken away by a fresh breeze from the sea. Nothing is left but joy, pure joy! The symptoms show: the internet, the free internet connection looses attraction! Two terminals in the harbour bar are online, but nobody wants to surf. Zora sends greetings from Sweden to my splendid isolation in Isola, Slovenia, her home land once. Ananda asks CMD, to 'write something spiritual'. Michael Jivano Kabir tries to teach in his sophisticated way in Chandro's German 'sannyas-forum', Sarlo (Vancouver), Parvito (Berlin) and Subhuti (Portland, Oregon) quote wise words of Osho, I feel like sending a virtual hug to each and everybody in Cyber and Real world. I sit naked on a stone at the coast of the sea, listen to the murmur of the waves and to the sound of a ship engine. The sun dries my skin leaving traces of white salt 'What is spiritual?' Ananda orders in his loud joking way: 'Write something spiritual!' Hey Ananda, Ozay, Rasa you enlightened entertainers of the spiritual scene, please write something 'spiritual'. Or would silence show some spirituality? My dreams are not burdened anymore by sexual spiritual sensations. These desires dry out by old age, but maybe some sensitivity brings up the sea? Like the loving food of our eternal earth with work of men: 'red, red wine'? Inspire the birds in the trees or the waves of the sea? My G*D, who ever that is! Bread, wine, cheese, tomato, salad, onion, salt, pepper - what more spirituality do you need? Ahhhh, you want a smile? Rasa finally needs to give herself a rest from condemning male chauvinist pigs? Ananda, Ozay, CMD - most of us - need to get a rest from attacks and attacking, from sorrows about sickness, old age, loss of brain and body power? Oh G*D, who ever that is! Let us get drunk on a sunny day by the sea. Let us join in existential ecstasy with no sense but joy, pure joy! Oh G*D, who ever that is! Let us be thankful for the thousands of helping hands, who brought us into life and keep us still farting! Thousands of helping hands construct from material of our benevolent Mother Earth these marvellous machines like a racing snail house: Mima's Sea Cow - a VW Transporter and motor home. Thousand of helping hands dedicate the gas oil, to make Sea Cow run over the high ways and through tunnelled mountains. Thousands of helping hands let the food grow from our beloved Mother Earth, red tomatoes, green salad, white salt, red pepper, shimmering fish in oil. What more spirituality do you want? When did we thank our stomach last time, to have digest all the treasures, Mother Earth feeds us to stay alive? When did existence forced us thankfully on our knees, to feel us lost in this infinite creation? Who found her Inner Master to teach, what 'spirituality' is? |
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| This camp was in war time for refugees. and still now wounded people try to forget. One women is missing an arm, one man drives on his bike without his leg from above the knee. Some men stink from alcohol early in the afternoon. Refugees are here from Serbian war, as refugee I feel myself from all lost cyber wars and quarrels. Now I am isolated in Isola. Many sincere seekers have left me in disgust. Their Inner Buddha continues with preaching and teaching on sheltered better places. Hallelujah, my Inner Buddha prefers isolation in Isola! Who cares for left, lost friends? Who cares for anything else but herself and her breed? Who admits her failure? Saturday moon enlightens the sea with a silvering shimmer. German online Magazine SPIEGEL burns an impressive picture in the chauvinist national collective consciousness: Chancellor Merkel laughs happy together with President Putin and President Bush on the 'summit of egoists'. Thousands meanwhile sleep in tents around the conference center Heiligendamm. The tent people demonstrate against the exploitation of the super global power players. |
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| EGO flourishes in misery in a similar way like in glamour. As example I watch one poor miserable drunken and wounded war refugees in this camp between the loud street and the dirty harbour. And the friendly Austrian fell flat on his face and is wounded too. My 'spirituality', when there is any, is so simple: Just somehow all these opposite energies try to balance myself alive and halfway sane. Sanity in mental and body affairs was and still is enough my last 59 years. Many people may judge my mind as 'perverted', my behaviour as 'anti-social' and find better people to fulfil their political expectations. My Inner Buddha finds other ways to create next trouble for me: how do I have to handle the mental missing health of my 86 years Old Mom? How do I have to behave with the health of my well educated daughter? How do I have to cure the pimples on my skin? The night leaves us sleepless for devotional prayers! What else to do? 'Accept not expect' is one key, my Master Key right now: 'accept not expect'. Again an early morning bird starts singing, again existence sends a new day with inspiring teachings. Still my dream makes me wonder: 'Everyone in this refugee camp has lost one or more family member in the war. Government pays 1000 Euros for each dead one. When one officer died, who ordered 1.000 soldiers, government pays 1000 times 1000 Euros, one million Euro for the family of the dead officer.' Even dreams mirror the world of pressure and power. Saturday refreshes a thunder rain again the thirsty plants at the coast. My body recovers from an impressive bike tour to the next rich town at the coast: Porterose. A small way over the green hills was made for bikes only. Even two tunnels, one 550 meters long, refresh with cold breeze in the hot sunny day. But I suspect the saddle of the bike causes an allergic reaction for the skin. It's a pain around the ass, a sleepless, terrible night. After 150 Kilometres near Austrian border the comfortable camping place with hot showers and pool can't heal the pain. Maybe the itching pimples let my body rest in something like sleep on my belly for half an hour. At 2.22 p.m. Sea Cow runs me home on the high way in four hours only. Mima applies Cortison salve to my allergic ass. Still I hope for spiritual healing. |
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