Written by Sybrand Veeger
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Sybrand Veeger
Jonas Guigonnat MICRO CHANGES - JAN/FEB 2019 Prose Sybrand Veeger
CHAOS: A SCHIZOLOGUE
Posted on February 24, 2019
Written by Jonas Guigonnat and Sybrand Veeger
“The canals are quiet, the streets are almost empty.
Nothing disturbs the water, not even its own chaotic movement.
It’s one of those late winter nights that the city offers as a pause to tortured souls.
The stream whispers that things and lives are meaningful, that fearing death is meaningless.
How soothing are the whispers, the illusions of stability and of meaning!
Yet a volcanic Chaos boils underneath the calm, impenetrable surface,
It boils laughing at us, underneath this surface-screen through which we see the world,
It boils in deep laughter!
We might as well take more drugs now,
The effect is ultimately as fictitious as the freedom to choose not to…”
“Wait! Don’t forget that we can think!
Say that order, meaning, coherence
Are just the layers of a screen that we can’t penetrate –
Say that freedom, causality, science, beauty are but figments on this screen
Merely illusions –
Say that All is really Chaos!
Aren’t we part of All?
Aren’t we laughing too through our thinking?
Ha! This makes sense! We’re Chaos laughing at itself!”
“The stature of the houses accentuates the holograms of order and balance!
Great, intricate, ancient structures of…. nothing but stone and wood –
Products of human history, of a mighty and wealthy past – of a Golden Age!
…produced by blood, fish, tulips, crosses, and crowns:
Merely coincidences, pure randomness…
And we trust in the stability of their construction,
And we indulge in the fake progressive sequence of their production,
Mythological fabrications of nothing but stuff?
Acknowledging the unceasing chaos – isn’t this too much for us to bear?”
“Yes! All will always be too much!
Because the flow of the stream is the flow in us,
Because the shaking water particle mirrors our spirit in flux.
How vital, how life-affirming,
How profoundly calming is the necessary randomness of the world,
What are time, progress, history, if what’s real is
The purity of Chaos –
If only there was more!
And that we sense it, that we can sing it with our thinking:
We are but the world singing to itself!”
“Enter me cabalistic cannabis!
Mend my fractured mind with fumes of clairvoyance and mystique!”
“And now that you’ve given me what I’ve wished for,
I’m rid of illusions – of false and destructive conclusions.
I see how disgusting we are,
Surrounded by impenetrable screens that project unreal meaning,
Unreal order, unreal time, unreal history, unreal truth, unreal contact:
Ticking, scrolling, tapping away – how thoughtless and banal!
Are we bound to this self-made nutshell and
Pointless dot in the vastness of Chaos?”
“Yes! Bounded in this very nutshell,
We can crown ourselves kings of infinite space!
For we participate in vastness,
For we too, like the world, are ever changing!
No order, no system, no symmetry, no history, no rationality:
What more can you wish for?
Now nothing holds us back from affirming Chaos!”
Written by Sybrand Veeger
To the skies he cried,
Nothing is but fire!
Observing thus that everything is change.
He knew that God-or-Nature had but one desire:
To stay in flux, to stay in flow, to re- and rearrange!
Nothing ever stands, for the cosmos eternally will dance:
Being’s moves are both random and necessary,
For the beat is chaotic yet perpetually voluntary.
One never steps into the same river twice,
Whispered our Greek identifying parallel streams:
The river flows and so do I,
Observing thus that “I” is something else than what it seems:
There is no meaningful, purposeful or essential “I,”
Or a “self” to be developed as a self-contained existence;
Rather life’s basic playfulness is unwise to deny!
If at every instant “I” returns as another
and as an other,
Self is a ceaseless repetition of different others to discover:
If this morphing game is a play of masks
Like an inwardly theatre with no future, with no past,
We should conclude that self’s a stream or a perpetual come-and-go,
That there is no truthful state that will one day lead the show –
So?
Unfold all masks!
Release all fire!
Let us play!
Let us dance! – to the cosmic beat’s desire.
MICRO CHANGES - JAN/FEB 2019 Prose Sybrand Veeger Uncategorized
Cries of Flux
Posted on January 1, 2019
Written by Sybrand Veeger
Everything is flux or energy or motion or fire or change so
Everybody is beat, pulse, thump, pump, thump, pump, rush!
Everything is flux or energy or fire or stream or change so
Every soul’s motion parallels the flow of breath and blood!
Jonas Guigonnat Poetry Sybrand Veeger TRANSFORMATIVE TECHNOCRATS - December 2018
What Would A Technecracy Look Like?
Posted on December 23, 2018
Written by Sybrand Veeger and Jonas Guigonnat
Sybrand: There is something romantic about an etymological voyage, Something utopically revealing – The feeling is akin to tracing back your genealogical roots: Familiarizing yourself with familiarity, Fathoming alternative familiarities: Unearthing roots To imagine trees. Let me share a genealogical log with you: This time Heidegger was my guide, That German Virgil of meaning – We sailed down into the etymological piths of technology, That timeliest of concepts. Currently, he said while descending, Techno means something radically different from its Greek root: Techne signifies something other than Instrumental manipulation, The obsession with means, The encasing and concealment of nature. Techne, rather, is not opposed to nature – The craftsman, artisan, manufacturer, Akin to the poet and the painter, Brings forth a creation, And, like nature’s disclosure of light, The technecrat reveals, un-conceals. From this root, I imagine a tree, I utopize: What would a technecracy look like? Jonas: What would it be? A possibility A rhetoric answer to the didactic – What would hell look like? A travel through the world of words, Might not be worth the bet: Forgotten corners Of human abysses. It is now my turn to share something with you: This time is not different than any other, Chaos shall be our only friend – Time and words are no sea to be sailed on, For near those places there are no grounds to be found. Mistakingly, heading toward nowhere, Techno means the same as any other word: Techne suggests the dream of Human’s manipulation, The creation of means, The enchaining and impairment of nature. Techne, then, becoming an arm of nature – The charlatan, conman, mindreader, Attached to the same fear that drives the righteous one, Brings forth an illusion, And, similar to nature’s inexistent logic, The technecrat steals, Mis-reveals From this abyss, I shall see no tree, I temporize: What could a technocracy look like? Sybrand: Surely, from the hellish wells of history, From the depths of human chaos, At least one meaningful bucket can be drawn, To pour upon ourselves, To awaken us from present drowsiness? To quench our thirst for hope? Techne – that hellenic understanding of technology, Reinvigorates our relationship with Gaia: Re-embedded in the natural, Technological production Mutates into technelogical creation: Re-embedded in the natural, Productivity re-evolves into an essential craftsmanship, Re-embedded in the natural, Power as coercion becomes Power as potential: Common statecraft replaces Distant democratic delegation, Desperately in need of reinterpretation, Let’s unearth the roots of our technological foundation, To give birth to an earthlier sense of future procreation.