(190) Bílá voda
It’s much more mysterious than that…it’s much more mysterious than just the death and resurrection—there’s a lot more beyond that. What do we live in? I mean, what do we really live in? Today, I wonder just exactly what it is that we are in. It all seems peculiar to me—these houses, these lights; it’s all rather fragile and provisional…these little lives at the windows, each in their little dreams; each dream that they are in a play—an invisible play that nobody sees, yet seems so important to them (it’s what gets them up in the morning, but it’s a dream). The individual pursuit of rational goals leads to this emergent outcome…this city, this village, this railway train; and everyone must get on and go to their destinations, important as these are (or not—and is it even their destiny, really?).
The above video shows an ancient Tibetan library, it is said only 5% of those texts have been translated—perhaps those are the 5% worth knowing; then again, perhaps not. Naturally, I suspect magic—but there could be more than that in them, perhaps a map to the Yeti’s lair; or perhaps just actuarial tables for accounts at the monasteries—it’s all fit for a monograph on life in a Tibetan monastery in the 9th century. This is one library, there are others—and not just libraries, monuments and hieroglyphics and so many things.
The dogs bark and the caravan moves on; and what is left in the dust, behind the caravan? Well, we never know…perhaps many centuries later the broken bottles are found, perhaps one intact bottle with a message in thin ink…as if a spider were allowed to run across the page after it dipped its legs in the ink pot. This is what life is like beyond Jesus, beyond Buddha, beyond Muhammad, beyond reason. We are still at the camp fire, all swaddled in our thawbs…and above us star upon star upon star, the undiscovered gods.