Category Archives: Brief Thoughts

When Water Vanishes

When Water Vanishes

April 2022. We are leaving the eastern part of the Pyrenees behind us, driving South. After a day of climbing we are looking forward to taking a cold bath. We have chosen the lake ‘Llosa del Cavall’, one of the many reservoirs in Catalonia, as well as a parking space with the possibility to swim.

Of course, we have heard of forest fires in Spain. And droughts. And water shortage. Especially during the last hot summers. But the absence of water is simply not engrained in our minds. Yet. That’s why we didn’t even think about the possibility of an empty lake. Spain is currently in one of its worst droughts, endangering harvest and ecosystems alike. Most water is used for agriculture; but strangely, farmers are more concerned about possible water regulation laws than to irreversibly lose their most valuable resource as the land slowly degrades to a desert. This attitude might be coupled with their age, as it is expected that most farmers will go into retirement within the coming years, and there are no young people to replace them.

We are arrive at the reservoir – at least that’s what our navigation system says. Because the reality in front of our windscreen looks differently: No water in sight, just bare rocks. We check again if we entered everything correctly. We did, this must be the lake. But this lake is missing its very defining feature: Water.

We use water carelessly during daily life, as though it is an unlimited resource; because for most of our lives it indeed has been rather unlimited. During our ongoing trip this has changed. Water is not only scarce in Spain, but also in our camper van. While a single flushing of our toilet back home would have used 10 liters of water, we now live on around 8-10 liters a day, including everything. Of course this changes on an instant when visiting a campsite and taking a shower, but it puts things into perspective. When I read ‘The End of the Ocean’ by Maja Lunde a few years back, I didn’t particularly like it. But this seemingly dystopian story probably hit the nail on the head in describing one potential future scenario on the shortage of water in Europe. When consulting the latest IPCC report, the question is not if a future without water scarcity will come, but if we can adapt in time to cope with it adequately. But taking into account societies will to adapt to other problems of climate change, the answer seems regrettably evident.

After closer investigation we see some water after all. It’s deep below, inaccessible, and not suitable to bath in; but it’s there. At least for now, until everything will be dry in a few summers from now.

Afterwards

Afterwards

Missed opportunities amidst routines,
thoughts caught by obtrusive screens –
for laziness we stride for now,
hide from duties, disallow
old habits to creep in, begin 
a time with generosity,
a life without velocity.

Sujet (Part 2)

Sujet (Part 2)

As a kid I had a whole collection of matchbox cars. My favorite one was a blue police cruiser which had blinking lights — simply wonderful. I sometimes still miss it. Together with my brother, I could play for hours and hours. They were like a large playground for us, offering endless possibilities. Among other things, we developed an intricate car racing simulation; we might even find our old notes in some hidden folder. And within this world of cars, my younger me also found meaning. At least for a while.

I guess at some point everyone who writes, writes about writing. There are endless lyrics on writing lyrics, or poems about their own creation (link). It seems an evident topic. After all, the process of creation is what characterizes any practiced craft. When I started this blog I thought I would get around this topic; but apparently I am not. Back at home when time was sparse, writing often felt easy. Accepting something with its imperfections was fine. But now, as there is seemingly endless time and no obligations, no word seems to fit in its place, no sentence bears a clever idea, and no text seems satisfactory. Simultaneously, the same happens with my photographic journey: infinite opportunities, but no direction. No purpose. No meaning.

And so, for now, I keep exploring the large playground that I’ve found in these creative crafts.

Upside Down (Part 2)

Upside Down (Part 2)

Family discussions are a precious gift: You can openly express yourself without any worries. Worries of being too open, too honest, or too unreasonable — they know you anyway. You can argue aggressively without having to fear ruining a friendship. And you can be a careful listener that provides encouragement and guidance to your loved ones. After all, if you’re open to have your opinion seriously challenged, you might learn something new about yourself after all.

Upside Down (Part 1)

Upside Down (Part 1)

Family discussions are a precarious venture: Bogged down relationships and intimate bonds clash with a mutual lack of goodwill and little restraint in abrasively advertising ones beliefs. The ones you’re nearest to might be the ones who are the least likely to share your worries and fears. Or they might be the ones who possess a seemingly divergent set of values. Each advent of a disagreement triggers the same repeating patterns, and all ways forward appear to be blocked; like a wall of snow, smudging an unequivocal truth, close but unattainable.

Obscured

Obscured

Trees shifted by a gentle breeze
of grace, at ease the silent world around,
clouds drifting by, unbound and free,
three cranes agree with distant calls:
a potpourri of nature's soul.

Living a True Life

Living a True Life

Life on the 3rd floor, high above the ground, spoiled by consumption of irrelevance, social life reduced to glowing screens, a life detached from truth, daydreams all day long, dreams of what could be, of what should be. Removed from reality, many layers in-between. Life is foul when mass-produced food is catered on silver platters.

I am in search for a genuine life. I guess, we all are. And probably I will continue this search until leaving this existence. So why am I searching in the first place? What hope is buried deep beneath? What do I expect to find? And do I want to find it? Or am I scared to face the harsh actuality of passing time?

Endless Clouds

Endless Clouds

There is a celebrity around our local pond – an undisputed star – which attracts photographers from near and far. The kingfisher. Admittedly, he is quite a natural talent with his bright contrasting feathers, the long beak, and his habit to sit calmly on his outlook during fishing. Still, I cannot comprehend how he seems to be the only subject that some photographers are striving towards. Because all the other birds are equally as beautiful and interesting. And because it’s starting to become a real problem if (on weekends) 3 or more people are chasing after a single individual who just wants to be left alone with his fish. But, as you can see, I am not guiltless too. I guess it is the intrinsic disparity in photographing wild animals: to invade without disturbing, to approach without chasing. And it is what brings the interest and excitement. But sometimes I wish people would be more considerate of their little feathered friends.

Offset

Offset

A little threat,
yet troublesome,
has entered me,
I need more tea!
My former self:
a silhouette,
offset a bit,
I'd like to quit.

The Endgame

The Endgame

The most important thing about Chess is to keep the king safe. It gets castled behind its pawns and is protected by all pieces. A comfy life, no worries, and no ventures onto the board. It remains inactive. In fact, it remains rather lifeless.

Until the endgame approaches and things start to change: Pieces have fallen left and right, the board is a vast and empty plain, pawns gain importance as they may promote, and – finally – the king abandons its safe place to become more active. To get involved in the game. To get involved in life.

Not every game of chess reaches its endgame.

Fruit flies exist for ten days, sparrows for two years, snails for eight years, and bowhead whale over 200 years. Every ten years our chance of death doubles. We have an awful lot of time to think about what happens afterwards. Until we don’t.