Dear Diary,
Sometimes it happens that while bouncing up the Kalpoko Street hill, with a thumping rock hit from several decades ago playing in your earphones, at some point darkness-engulfed, street lamp only partially illuminated Žaliakalnis wooden house, you suddenly realize that you are happy. That you are inwardly happy as much as you’ve already been happy before, but you doubt you could ever be even happier. That this is probably the maximum. And if this is the maximum, then at this moment, at this fraction of a second, you are probably the happiest person on the planet. Well, or one of some fifteen happiest. That there are millions spinning on this planet alongside you who have amassed fabulous fortunes, built the biggest houses, married the most beautiful women, achieved unspeakable fame and recognition, and right now, at this very moment, are somewhat less happy than you, because at this moment they are deeply immersed in worries and concerns touching their fortunes, houses, women and famous names. And you just bounce along contentedly toward the top of Kalpoko Street, with a thumping hit playing in your earphones.
Happiness is not in money, goes an old, much-questioned proverb. And it is, partly, right. Happiness is freedom. Freedom from a degenerate society. Perhaps not eternal, but at least for a few moments lasting freedom, the moments needed to bounce to the top of Kalpoko Street. A degenerate society, with its inexplicable tool – money and mechanisms that make no sense to a healthy mind. Why does the largest share go to those who steal and exploit, while the smallest goes to those who bring the world light, goodness and utility? Where is the logic in having to surrender half your life and health to acquire four concrete walls? There must be some hidden logic, everything can’t simply be like this without any logic, right? A degenerate society with an inexplicable desire to forever climb over each other’s heads, to trample the neighbor to become more visible, more recognized. Doesn’t it really hurt to be invisible and unknown? A society where the most beautiful and purest love instantly evaporates like fog upon catching the scent of a redder car, a more spacious house, a larger bust or a thicker wallet. A society where a photo of two police patrol cars that crashed into each other causes an unspeakable explosion of joy and hundreds of people who until moments ago were fairly adequate press the laughing emoji under it and write disgusting comments. A society where wise people quietly create cancer cures while fools succeed quite well in forcing their way into politics to be able to govern the former, divvy up their taxes and the entire country in general. A society where for the sake of foreign territories, for the sake of imaginary gods, such things are possible as we today see happening in Ukraine or Israel on the television screen and it’s not entirely clear whether we won’t see them tomorrow from somewhat closer.
To search for happiness in all this, having stuffed your head and hands up to the elbows into everything I described, is, believe me, a rather futile endeavor. You’d find more happiness sticking your hand into a cowpat. Or at least warmth. And only upon pulling your head and yourself out of all of it do all the listed questions disappear, they simply become irrelevant when for a moment you no longer feel like a small and helpless part of it all. So look for happiness when, having served your daily share of it, you can for a moment remain alone and forget it. With all its finances, real estate and movable assets, politics, geography, history, all kinds of relationships and other aspects. When, it seems, you physically feel how suddenly all the shackles fall from you, with which the surrounding world tirelessly adorns you without limit. And having never experienced this, one can never claim to have been free, no matter how free a country they might have lived their life in.
Have a productive and happy Wednesday!
Entry sponsored by a cup of Tchibo coffee, radio station rockantenne.de and an imaginary friend named Midjourney, who provided an incredibly accurate illustration of twilight-drenched Kalpoko Street :-)
