the ghost in the machine

As we wander through the abyss that is history, we all leave our mark. We all leave something behind on our journey to somewhere else. Be it a thought, a story, an object or just a whisper, we all influence history in one way or the other.

Once, there was a miner working in coalmine somwhere in the world. His work was hard and his life had little joys besides his family. From 6 til 8, every day, every week, for years, he worked in the mines. Breaking coal from stone from coal. His fingers gripping tools made by man, carving lumps of black rock that would someday fuel someones adventure or dream. As drops of sweat fell to the floor, as his coughing could be heard in the neigbouring tunnels, his very soul stayd behind in the cave. He left, he quit his job and never returned, but his soul, or at least a very tiny fraction of it, was always there. Somewhere in his heart, he was always there. As he left this world all that remained of him was lost to us, his face, his name and his thoughts forever lost in the void of the universe. But the tiny fraction of his soul that stayed behind in the mine, it lingers on, a spirit left behind in the created constructions of man. A ghost in the machine.

The factory worker working on the model T-Ford in 1908, his name and face is forgotten by all but a few remaining relatives, but his spirit and soul, wether he wish it or not, is forever imprinted on the work that he did on the black automobile. If he polished the headlights or was responsible for tuning the gearbox doesn’t really matter, something of him was stored in that machine for all eternity. For as the machine dies, the impact it left on history, and thus our factory worker, lingers on.

The SkunkWorks engineer working on the SR-71 Blackbird, his pencil drawings dictating where the wings should bend, and exactly at what angle the tail rudder should be placed. He is remembered more for his work than the factory worker, but still, his most important mark on history is the spirit he left behind in the great blackbird. And as long as the machine is remembered, the ghosts of those who built it will remain in our cognitive memory and intelligence.

Computer programmers in the number of hundreds worked on the system on which this text was written. Alon the way, the implanted bits of themselves into the system, unknowing, unwilling or deliberate, some minute parts of their creative intelligence lingers on in thousands of systems around the world. Tiny strings of code, random or by purpose, they form unwanted behaviour, they create new or just sit there idle, they are perhaps machine in essence, but created by soul, they will always remain ghosts of their creators.

As we cross ways with inventions, creations and impossibilities throughout our journey, we leave behind something of ourselves at every waypoint. Every time our energy is focused to creation, every time we pour our creativity into something, we leave something else behind. Unnoticable, minute pieces of our will, tiny fractions of our soul, whispers of our ideas, they stay behind and inhabit our creations. Giving them life and sometimes soul themselves. Thus, we are all creators of ghosts. Thus, all creations are ghosts.

a gHost in the machine?

I refuse to be your enemy.

You did great damage to our country, you took 77 innocent lives for your so called cause. You have ruined families, lives and you took our very innocence away. You proved only that terror has no religion and no race, you tried to bring us down and make us afraid.

You failed. You made us stronger, you united us in a way no one thought possible. You made hundreds of thousands of people take to the streets. Not in anger, not in despair and not for a want of revenge. But in love, in hope and in belief. You have strengthened our democracy, our love for each other and our society and nation. We will answer terror with more openess, more democracy and more peace. You have only strengthened what you sought to destroy. The 77 people who died because of you, they did not die in vain, they died because they believed in a better world – a belief we will honor to the very last.

And you don’t get it, we refuse to be your enemy.
We will not enact vengeance, but our law will try you, find you guilty and convict you. You will serve your sentence, and we will forget you. We will never forget what you did or the day, but you, you will be forgotten, left to the darkest parts of history, the world will forget your name and your cause, and because of that, you have already lost.

Love and peace will go on. Stronger than ever. The world will go on, a better place.
We’re winning, yes, there may be riots in London, poverty and hunger in Etiopia and war in Iraq, but we will make it, we will make the world a better place.

The world will go on, a better place.

and tonigHt, triPoli falls.

…and the world we see

The world we live in and the world we see, sometimes, they are not the same.

I’ve been feeling really strange for a couple of days, like I’m in between something and something else, like I’m just waiting for something to happen.. So I took my camera and went for a walk around town, to clear my mind, to see people – just to take a look at the world and how it’s doing really. What I found was a world full of ignorant, ugly and horrible people that have no taste in clothing or in cars. I kept seeing people and thinking how many idiots there must be in the world – or that they all descended on Oslo on the same day…

But this isn’t the world I live in. This isn’t the city that is home. My world, my city, is full of beauty. My world is full of interesting, intelligent, funny and passionate people. My world is full of compassion, faith and love. Everyday, I work with people who care as much as I do, I talk to brilliant engineers and artists, I see loving couples on the bus and old people holding hands in the park. I see the rich lady helping the homeless and the volunteers all trying to make the world a better place to live. I spend my days with the love of my life. My world is full of love, full of passion and of great good.

I just have to choose to see it. I have bad days and good days. I see bad people and good people. My world is full of hate and of love. My world isn’t perfect.
It just is. We just have to choose what we see some days.

tHis is my world, it’s Perfect.
this is my world, this is how I see it.

Is this it?

Some observations on the big world from a small corner up north. Neither experienced nor witnessed, just how I see the world.

Are we about to witness a history-defining moment? The next few days will be instrumental in deciding the fate of the lifes of millions and millions of people living in the middle east. Will they rise up and take what is theirs by right? or will the oppresors again use unspeakably brutal force to quell this uprising?

This could very well be the “Berlin-moment” of the middle east. We should help them. By all means and resources required for a peaceful revolution, we, who have spoken of democratic enlightenment for so long, can not let this chance pass us. We should help them. We must help them. And we must show the other oppressive regimes in the region that continued support of terrorism, torture, the oppression of their people and the free speach will no longer be tolerated, and we must help the citizens of such regimes to rise up against them on their own. For only if the revolution comes from within will the people have faith in whoever is chosen to lead from chaos. History has proven this countless times, let’s hope world leaders don’t forget this.

What can I do? Far from everything, safely in place in this country where all are tolerated, freedom of speach has long been tolerated and peace has reigned for 60 odd years. What can we in the outside world do?

We can support them. In voice, in heart, and in action. Like anonymous has proven, a bunch of people on the other side of the planet can quite easily bestow fear in totalitarian governments. All we have to do really, is remember to tell everyone we can. That we should help them. That we must help them.

Want to join us?

freedom of speacH will Prevail

the people of today

I wonder what the people of tomorrow will think about the people of today. Will they read about us in history and think in awe about the great things we accomplished. Will they read about the ones who conquered all plagues, erradicated war and brought humanity into a new era of compassion and peace. Or will they read about the generations that destroyed our homeworld, that spent all the resources and ruined international relations for all forseeable time.

Will they look at our technological revolution as the beginning of the end, or as the beginning of the new world? For this is where we have come now. We are at a point in our evolution, technological progress and interhuman relations where we, and I mean we; the whole of humanity, must make a choice. Do we stand back and watch, let the chaos and carnage happen? Do we let the world fall to the problems of our fathers? … or do we act now, do we let our anger and rage change the world forever?

I’m 25 years old. I don’t know what I’ll be doing in 12 months time. But I will do it with all my passion and energy. I did not create the problems of today, but they are my problems, and I have to solve them. I didn’t bring the world to this state of terror, but it is my world, and I have to live in it. I will do it with all my passion and energy because this is the only way it will ever work. We all have to do what we do, as good as we can, as persistent as our will lets us, and as arrogant as our courage tells us.

I see people my age everywhere, dreaming great dreams and willing something with their life. Don’t you see, we are a genetation of dreamers, visionaries and we will change the world. We have started to fix all that is wrong, all the things you did before we came, we will fix it. Just give us some time. And don’t try to stop us.
I did not create the problems. But they are my problems. And I will fix them.

I wonder what the people of yesterday would think of the people of today.

for yesterday and all tomorrows, we dance the best we know.

tHe Problem?

the defining moment

I started today early, not too early, about half past 6, and I didn’t stop moving till about 1:20.

After the basics, waking up, waking Kat up, taking a shower, waking Kat up again (this time with coffee) etc, I went to visit my sister and spoke about my father, and brother and then mother.

My mother had a day that for anyone else would be quite large, but for my mother is just another day.

I went to my grandparents and locked myself in one of the upstairs bedrooms, (the one with the best phone signal). I laid out my CV, about 25 photos a lot of maps of London, opened up my computer, took out my phone and waited. I was completely still, completely quiet.

It was in that moment that I realised that any second, I could be experiencing a defining moment .

In truth it could easily not have been, it could easily have been an phone call just like every other one, an interview like any other for a job like any other. The truth is that I won’t know for years to come, but the importance was that I took a moment to allow this moment to be significant.

Lately the blog has been an interesting place, a place that I (and I feel both of you as well) check every chance I get to see if something else has been written, something to erase the words of the past. More, to carry the mistakes of the past into the reality of the future. By this I hope you don’t think that I am talking about the post’s themselves as the mistakes, but the actions outlined in them.

I, forever cursed to a non confrontational attitude, agree with you Georg, along with Hans, ashamed to be guilty of the thing I hated the most, arrogance, the very thing I arrogantly accused others of.

It has taken a long time for me to read, accept, an muster the courage to respond truthfully, and ashamed again that it was difficult.

This is going to be another poetic post…

When I auditioned for Columbia (when two certain people replaced the wheels under my chair with bricks!) I was required to memorise a poem by Fernando Pessoa called the Tobacco shop.

Pessoa was a very disturbed man and in some of my darker moments lately I have been reciting the beginning of this poem which goes;

“I am nothing, I shall never be anything, I cannot wish to be anything, but aside from that I have within me all the dreams of the world”

I don’t know whether it was meant as a comfort or not but it is a habit I have discontinued, today I read further into the poem and rediscovered a passage that I prefer;

“But the Tobacco Shop owner has come to the door and is standing there.
I look at him with the discomfort of an half-turned head
Compounded by the discomfort of an half-grasping soul.
He shall die and I shall die.
He shall leave his signboard and I shall leave my poems.
His sign will also eventually die, and so will my poems.
Eventually the street where the sign was will die,
And so will the language in which the poems were written.
Then the whirling planet where all of this happened will die.
On other satellites of other systems some semblance of people
Will go on making things like poems and living under things like signs,
Always one thing facing the other,
Always one thing as useless as the other,
Always the impossible as stupid as reality,
Always the mystery of the bottom as true as the shadow of mystery of the top.
Always this thing or always some other, or neither one nor the other.

But a man has entered the Tobacco Shop (to buy tobacco?),
And plausible reality suddenly hits me.
I half rise to my feet -energetic, sure of myself, human-
And I will try to write these verses in which I say the opposite.”

This may seem a bit left field, but I can say that, for myself at least, existentialism is the cause and effect of my feelings flight and of fall. I thought that if there is a greater meaning to life then I must be a key player, and then I felt as I had not only let myself down but that my ideals had shattered as well.

Is there a meaning to life? I don’t know, Rudyard Kipling may have gotten it right;

“If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

Yours is the Earth, and everything that’s in it”
Life isn’t about what you have achieved, or who’ve you’d had to beat to get there.

The Earth doesn’t belong to those who wish to possess it.

Truly great people do not seek greatness.

Later in life, a now very sick and even more disturbed Pessoa wrote;

“Should I drink something or should I commit suicide?
No;  I am going to exist.  Dammit! I am going to exist.
To ex-ist…
To ex-ist…
Give me something to drink, for I am not thirsty!”

Today’s defining moment may well have been a defining moment for me, and nothing to others , my mother’s may have been nothing to her, and the world to others.

But yesterday’s mistakes realised remain in yesterday, and the future is opened up for a whole new variety of mistakes to be made.

The internet may break, the post destroyed, the memories of those who read it die, the language that I have written this post in be lost, and yet it has been written. And if it is read then it was worth the effort.

YEsterday’s defining moment is obliterated by today’s, but that didn’t make it any less signifIcant.

and the things we take with us…

In front of you there is nothing but solid rock. It’s surface smoothened by centuries of running water. Perfect, sublime yet towering. A work of art by nature itself. To climb over it? Impossible. To go around it? It has no begining and no end. The only way to the other side is through it. And to go through it requires great calm and great power. You have no choice but to sit down and meditate on this, this moment in your life where everything else seems worthless. To go through a wall like this, you have to find your perfect moment, the moment where everything is aligned with everything. Only then will the microscopics of this universe allow you to pass through the wall, simply like it is not there. But you have to go through the wall, and you can only take yourself with you. Your clothes, your cellphone, your credit card and your passport, they all have to stay behind.

But all that you have inside you can come. Your thoughts, your dreams, hopes, despair, anger and love. All this can come with you. Should you choose to do so. If I should wish, I would hope you’ll take us with you. In your thoughts, if you remember, we are always there. Take with you the ones you love and care for. And they’ll be there too, on the other side. If you remember.

Find the perfect moment. Go through the impossible wall. Take us with you. And we will be there. Forever, as swaying trees in the wind, as shimmering stars on the evening sky, as the rising morning sun and the eternal everest, we will be there.

Take us with you and we will be there.

find tHe Perfect moment