Shortly after sunrise in early February I received the initial message just arriving with the cold wind from Tuva – somewhere in the dark forest fallen down from the grey cloudy sky and now lying infront of me like a wooden cradle with the clear intent to vanish suddenly again.
I was dazzled instantly and while moving forward over the secret path of this technical distortion, it became obvious that the diverse singing birds kept watching me in a curious manner but I could not understand their acoustic symbolism . Who was leading me now and where? Better now to be in harmony with the tracking alter ego and a whispering voice shouts clearly that Tuva is not far away anymore.
Perhaps I am a bear half asleep all winter in a cosy cave somewhere in the high mountains such avoiding mentally disorder while dreaming of the approaching spring when the sun is warming again the softly blossoming nature after being released from this longlasting winter trance. The bears living in the north tend to act then in a manner of euphoria with substantial energy while trolling around likely in penguin attitude.
The drum is calling me from their behind the trees, and the rhythm of such native banging has just visited Tuva where it crossed the eternal horizon behind the moisty impenetrable fog after drinking the sweet nectar out of the circling old amphora filled with indigenous ambitions. I now hear the bearish voice of Tuva near by me, and it is truly very good to be at home again, where this promise can decondition the borders of perception like melting butter.
© transmutation.me (2015)