Manafonistas

on life, music etc beyond mainstream

2019 18 Jan

Lost in the Laurel Forest

von: Lajla Nizinski Abgelegt unter: Blog | TB | 7 Kommentare

„I go now, I leave you.“

„Yeah“, she nodded. „Have fun.“

 

I was not sure, if I would return. She was used to my run aways. I finally wanted to escape from all these Dells and Apples and Samsungs. I wanted to use only my brain in fresh air and reflect old questions: What is time, when present can be watched now in nature, what will I see in future? Where do the roots come from reconnection, what did it mean before IT came along? What does reaction really mean for us? Google would have given me not a satisfying answer. I wanted to hike, to think, to stay in a happy thought modus.

 
 


 
 

As I was walking through that magical woods,  early melodies came into my mind. First I was humming: „I wanna live, I wanna give …“ Then I switched to Uncle John’s Band.

 

Will you come with me?

Won’t you come with me?

Wwo, oh, what I want to know, will you come with me?

 

What a great rhythm I found, to zigzag over the basalt rocks. When I had climbed a sharp volcanic top, I sang out loud: „Black Jack David come running through the woods, singing so loud and gaily …“ I know that David Sylvian digs the forest. There is a fire in the forest, it’s taking down some trees. When things are overwhelming, I let them be …

There are waterfalls I had to cross over. When I jumped far enough to reach safely the other side, I copied that high Joni Mitchell giggle. O how much I felt free. How wonderful not to be in the need of the Holzwege. The gorgious nature had so much to offer, I wasn’t in the need of a word of comfort. When I passed a small pueblo, I saw a young man playing a tiny guitar (timpe). I fancied his mother standing in the kitchen, playing the chacaras over pots and pans. I wondered if she was a modern woman, living so deep in the woodlands. What did she think about former times, when men gave their wifes as a present to the guests. Strange traditions, I thought. You offer your true love? Great gesture or a bitter sin?

I had to laugh out loud, when it came into my mind, what an effect laurel had to the old Greeks. They took laurel as an aphrodisiac. And I recalled all these laurel leaves my mother put into the Sauerkraut for my polish father. I could smell the Sauerkraut and, Jesus, I was getting hot. „Estar de bulla“, which means, yeah: I’m feeling fine. Why should I return to her? She will be fine. She should appreciate that I don‘ t change her into a laurelsilvia, like Apollo did to Daphne. No I am not Apollo. I stay in the woods.

I know that the celebration of holy Sebastian is going on in the village. The choice of six beautiful girls will be a new torture for him. It’s clear to me, I stay. I keep walking on piedras, chacaras del silencio.

 
 


 

Dieser Beitrag wurde geschrieben am Freitag, 18. Januar 2019 und wurde abgelegt unter "Blog". Du kannst die Kommentare verfolgen mit RSS 2.0. Kommentare und Pings sind zur Zeit geschlossen.

7 Kommentare

  1. Michael Engelbrecht:

    We don‘t actually need acid, but for the love of life, we‘ll take it (some of us), in healthy set and setting, so to speak …

  2. Lajla:

    I bet, you are not an old Greek :)

  3. Michael Engelbrecht:

    You can call me Al 😉

    „A man walks down the street
    He says why am I soft in the middle now
    Why am I soft in the middle
    The rest of my life is so hard
    I need a photo-opportunity
    I want a shot at redemption
    Don’t want to end up a cartoon
    In a cartoon graveyard
    Bonedigger Bonedigger
    Dogs in the moonlight
    Far away my well-lit door …“

  4. Lajla Nizinski:

    „Mr. Beerbelly, Mr. Beerbelly,

    get this mutts away from me.“

  5. uwe Meilchen:

    „You know, I don’t find this stuff amusing anymore …“ :)

  6. Lajla Nizinski:

    Der Song von Paul Simon: You can call me Al, I call you Betty 😊 wäre gut für den Düsseldorfer Karneval 😈

    Wer gerne wandert, sollte einmal im Leben durch den Lorbeerwald auf La Gomera wandern.

    Wer gerne internationale Gedichte liest, kommt nicht an dem großen kanarischen Dichter Pedro Garcia Cabrera vorbei (1905-1981). Einige Wörter in meinem Text sind aus seinen Gedichten entlehnt.

  7. uwe Meilchen:

    … als Pierre Boulez auf einer Party Paul Simon traf …


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