Načrtoval sem, da bom danes objavil slike in poročilo iz druge etape potovanja… Ampak bi rad povedal nekaj drugega.
Ni mi čisto jasno, kaj. Ne še. Nekaj me muči že vse odkar sem bral blog neke manično depresivne dekline, pa bi rad to nekaj ubesedil, čeparav morda ni pravih besed.

Kaj smo ljudje? Mislim, da je gospod Pratchett dokaj pravilno in vsekakor zelo pesniško odgovoril na to vprašanje:

Smo kraj, kjer je vstajajoča opica srečala padajočega angela. Morda se to bolje sliši v angleščini. Prevod bo spodaj, kot zmeraj.

Kakorkoli, k interpretaciji tega stavka. Ljudje imamo najbolje, kar nam je ta svet lahko ponudil: neverjetno sposobna telesa, ki zmorejo skoraj vse, na eni strani… Glave, ki nam omogočijo vse ostalo, na drugi. Imamo krila za let do oblakov in komore za spust do morskega dna. Dominiramo našo zemljo in celo njeno bližnjo okolico.

Mislim, da to ni vse, kar je hotel Pratchett povedati. Mislim, da to ni vse, kar želim jaz povedati. Nekako ne najdem besed, ampak v osnovi ciljam na tisto drugo kvaliteto našega bitja, tisto, ki nekaj pomeni le nam samim in ne služi drugemu namenu kot zadovoljevanju potrebe, ki jo samo ustvari. Bolj kot razmišljam o tem, bolj verjetno se mi zdi, da je prav ta hecna posebnost človeštva to, kar je Pratchett iznajdljivo poimenoval padli angel. Vse našteto v prejšnjem odstavku se lahko do neke mere šteje kot logična posledica vstajanja takozvane vstajajoče opice – razširjanje našega okolja, iskanje novih surovin, zadovoljevanje naravne radovednosti. Ampak nobena logika ne povsem razloži tistega, kar nas dela povsem drugačne in neskončno bolj zanimive od živali – naša želja po ustvarjanju estetskega, lepega – no, ne preostane mi drugega, kot pa da zapišem besedo, ki mi povzroča težave, ker jo podzavestno povezujem z nadutimi in nadležnimi ‘umetniki’… Umetnost.

Ni druge, padli angel v nas mora biti prav ta čudna želja po ustvarjanju in uživanju umetnosti, takšne in drugačne.

To še vedno ni vse, kar sem želel povedati. Mislim, da vse zgoraj sploh nima nobene veze s tem, kar imam v mislih. Muči me, kako veliko ljudi, ki jim čisto nič ne manjka, javka in cvili v svet in sploh ne neha. Je to naravna predispozicija? So to samo klici za pozornost? Od kje vsa ta žalost in jeza in… In neumnost? Je tudi to del padlega angela? Mar ta angel žaluje za polico, s katere je zdrsnil že dolgo tega?

Pomel sem si oči, ki me že pečejo, in izgubil nitko, ki sem ji sledil. Spet sem na začetku in bolj ko prebiram vse do zdaj zapisano manj smiselmo je. Heh, morda je tako tudi prav. Naj za konec samo ponovim, kaj je Jezus Kristus rekel svojemu apostolu: Ne bit kreten. Noben ne mara kretena.

–

I planned on publishing the pictures and words from the second leg of the journey today, but I’d like to say something else instead. I’m not entirely sure what, not yet at least. I’ve been bothered by something ever since I read a blog of some manically depressive girl and I’d like to put this something in words, even though there might not be any right ones.

What are humans? I think Terry Pratchett answered that question quite correctly and in a rather poetic manner:

‘Humans are the place where the rising ape meets the falling angel.’ It does sound much better in English, I was right.

Anyway, let’s try to interpret this sentence. We humans have the best that this world has to offer: on the one hand, bodies that can achieve nearly anything, and on the other our amazing heads that can help us acomplish everything else. We have wings to fly to the skies and submarines to sink to the sea floor. We dominate our planet and it’s near vicinity.

I don’t think that’s all that Pratchett wanted to say. I don’t think that’s all that I wanted to say… Somehow I can’t or won’t find the right words, but in essence I’m aiming at that other quality of the human being, the one that only means something to us and serves no purpose other than fulfilling the need it creates. The more I think about it, the more likely it seems that it is this second quality that Pratchett named the falling angel. Everything in the previous paragraph could to a certain extent be logically tracked as a consiquence of the rising of the rising ape – expanding our habitat, securing new resources, sating out natural curiosity. But no logic can fully account for that thing that makes us infinitely different and more interesting than animals – our desire to create beautiful and aesthetically pleasing things, the, the… Well, I have no choice but to say the word that I so dislike because of it’s relation to stuck up eccentric people: Art.

There’s no other explanation, the fallen angel in us must be the desire to create and enjoy art, in one way or another.

That’s still not it, though. Still not what I wanted to say. It’s possible that everything I’ve written up to now has nothing to do with what I really want to say. I’m bothered how many people who aren’t missing anything just whine and cry into the world and never shut up about their problems. Is it a natural predisposition? Is it just cries for attention? Where does all this sadness and anger and… Stupidity come from? Is this also a part of the fallen angel? Could it be that the angel is mourning the perch he fell off from oh so long ago?

I rubbed my burning eyes and lost my thread of thought. I’m at the beginning again and the more I read what I wrote so far the less sense it makes… Maybe that’s okay. Let me finish this with what Jesus said unto his apostel Judas: Don’t be a dick. No one likes a dick.

dwr