As the twelve nights of the wild hunt have meanwhile nearly passed by, and for the beginning of the new Year time has come to have a look on some other and new subjects. So here on top you can observe my scanned personal right foot-signature with typical claw toes like those of a wild brown bear. One of the toes seems to be obviously missing but the picture comprises just a further coloured illusion in this regard – a situationistic puzzle.
But are you somehow aware of the general mantrap that in every second we are leaving here and there unnoticed and unseen trails at each paced location of our lives? In hurry and movement we simply forget these small gifts to our environment while you can discover them anywhere. And now these left symbols of modern civilization also smirk digitally right here in order to bewilder secret service web searching systems. What does all this possibly mean?
This old xerox-copy from the 90s of the last century here could represent a wire fence used for protection of the next nuclear power plant site, but in fact it just shows a soft mesh for the packing of sweet oranges. How nice and delicate such a found rubbish aesthetics can in fact sometimes be!
To be continued in the New Year.
A SMALL CAT’S CHRISTMAS-SONG PERFORMANCE
I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT
Creator: Julia Rebensdorf on YouTube
WISHING YOU ALL A VERY NICE SEASON!
In one of these never ending arctic polar nights when only some ravens were loafing through the icy roads of Cape Dorset loudly cawing, the pretty hard polar wind had only one intention whispered at the next corner: I have to find the shaman of Kinngait to raise my question that why is the owl not what it seems to be. But the shaman was very busy because he had an important appointment with the other world which cannot be found in a snow crystal or the sky with all its strange sparkling stars. This made the wind quite upset, angry and naughty because the wind could never visit this special shaman’s world. So he embraced and fixed the shaman with his mighty icy robot-arms and blew him in a short moment which lasted less than a second all over the ocean westwards in the far away German landscape of Brandenburg.
‘Shaman hunter’ created by Pitseolak Quimirpik, Cape Dorset, Canada
photo and copyright by/with: Cape Dorset Inuit Art *
Now, the shaman is standing in front of me completely frozen to a serpentine stone, but I know that the imminent transition of this object is inevitable during next midsummer. The longest day of the year in the Northern hemisphere will release the old spirit because even walls of stone bigger and heavier than the Cheops pyramid of Gizeh cannot stop the urgent longing and desire to further discover the unknown behind the next horizon or the endless stretching deserts of the North now covered again by thick layers of white snow. When the foggy days of November will have passed by, my next travel will lead me again to the Iron Mountains where winter is a clear vision accompanied by the display of the Eurasian tawny owls, I can already hear the birds’ voices from very far away.
© transmutation.me (2016) unless otherwise mentioned
The frozen shaman from Kinngait
I like winter-time very much and when the weather then turns out to be dry, sunny and also quite cold, a complete clarity may seize subsequently our minds all of a sudden. So the month of January – being also the month of my birth – is for me always something special in the circle of the year while the old year is still present after a new year has already begun.. Possibly therefore the old Romans dedicated this month to their ancient god Janus, more commonly known as the god with two faces symbolizing for them both beginning and end – the spirit of entrances and exits.
Icy summit station on Mt. Fichtelberg (1,215 m) near the German-Czech border
In the Northern hemisphere January is normally also the coldest month and starts nine or ten days after midwinter which means here the shortest day in the year and a very long night – a day of great relevance also for bygone cultures and former civilizations. In the old Celtic year circle soon thereafter the socalled Raunächte (South-German / Austrian term meaning in wording rough nights also named The twelve nights after Christmas) will start on 24 December midnight and these nights are lasting until 6 January’s sunrise. For our ancestors these were really holy nights, a time to be spent with the family and for feasts, what is called today more profane holiday season.
That is me and my fast racing sled / luge in action
So this has to be of course also a good time to really enjoy winter in the mountains when snow crystals are covering in thick layers trees and bushes, hills and meadows, houses and trails in a sometimes mysteriously and weird manner inviting you to move further to the far away horizon.
Endless forestry trail in snowy disguise
And after such a walk through the white painted woodlands it is time to engulf in the real soundtrack of winter The Walrus Hunt by The Residents being one of my favourite songs (1). Now welcome there in the real North, home of the Inuit.
© transmutation.me (2016)
Gorge at Montafon valley in Austria underneath a barrier lake
As a small boy I used to stay on the ice of a deep and dark water basin – serving as a water reservoir for the fire brigades – together with my brother and a cousin one day in early January. This was strictly forbidden so this small adventure inspired us really to hilarious winter games on the frozen surface not thinking of any kind of harm or risk as we were simply children discovering an exciting world. It was a real tough cold winter with a lot of snow covering the paths and streets of my place of birth, an ideal time for having icy fun.
Open minded only to our games I simply did not realize that in the middle of the basin there was a big hole in the ice. Then all of a sudden I tumbled and plunged into this hole and the very cold water. Fortunately, I did not sink into the depth and could hold on to the edge of the ice hole in panic. My brother and cousin came by quickly and then used a walking stick for pulling me out of the water soon enough. This was a shocking experience because there was one single traumatic moment, where I was standing exactly between life and death.
My mind preferred for a long time to forget this awesome frightening experience but a couple of years ago I remembered to it again, and we always need this kind of awareness of course to realize the high value of our time-limited lives as death may be hidden at the next crossing point of our movements.
Replique of a Peruvian death mask (20th century)
© transmutation.me (2015)
In autumn, days are sometimes quite foggy without a clear view on our cosmos and surroundings like a bridge leading to nowhere.
360 m long hanging rope bridge “Geierlay” at Mörsdorf / Germany
Then it is sometimes better to just simply move and cross the unknown profound abyss such as a hanging rope bridge in 100 m altitude where you can feel like a bird swinging with the wind. Soon an unknown trail with all the colours of autumn will open leading to a new challenging landscape to be discovered.
Trail in autumn near Pyrmont Castle / Germany
Time to say hello and welcome to an alien trail leading to anywhere.
linked to Dutch goes the Photo / Tuesday Photo Challenge Bridge
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)