Fields near Drenke

My arms and back are stiff and aching. But here inside in the living room - where we are doing our Blipwork now - it is warm and quiet. W. is yawning now and then. I’m not sure if this Journal note will be ready before we fall asleep. After our morning trip to the Beverungen Uplands, we took on the heavy work: cutting and moving the laurel and fir branches higher up into our forest backyard.


This is destiny, I thought, as I was dragging one of the heavy bunches over the small track. As I climbed up, step for step, the narrow track, which leads from the Hut to the Beech at the far upper end: “Here we go again. Carrying or dragging the weighty stuff to its destination,” I said to myself. We did it with books and shelves, we did it with material in general, be it furniture or sacks full of oak leafs. We have learned to carry our own things, heavy or not.

Here you walk on your own part of your Small Philosophers Way. So happy you were to discover its route connecting the Oaktree Hut with those other Philosophers Paths, you learned to follow in the past. Here you are sweating, breathing, straining. Bodily labour first, no time for reflection, too tired to read. Your personal masters in philosophy - most of them dead now - couldn’t ever had for one second imagined, that carrying up and down your Worldly Things forms an integral part of any practical philosophy. Completely absurd!

Real Thinkers are Men: they never do any householding, cooking, typewriting, carpenting, gardening, repairing, caring or carrying. That’ s for handymen&maids. I did leave them, those most admired masters of mine. But it took some years to discover and admit their blind spots and narrow mindedness. Now I know there are no masters or pupils at all. Life itself teaches you what narrow path up or down will suit you best. Through painful experiences, yes indeed, but all the more gratifying when the outcome is deeply felt as authentic.