Throw the Lumber in the Fire

The evening is falling. When I look through the Oak Tree Window there is still some light between the dark leaves. Some minutes ago a rosa blue glow was shining over the riverside forest in the Southern sky. It is turning dark quickly now, as we have past beyond half of August. The evenings and nights are becoming fresh again, even colder. Would be time for a nice open fire, I thought when I saw the pile of fresh chopped wood in the street below. I was making my last walking round for the day. Time out to breath and find myself back in these marvellous surroundings. Perhaps “later on” we can install a woodstove in the living, I dreamed. Once we have settled our main living here in Carlsheaven. Home & Hearth belong to where you belong.

Where do you belong? Where your belongings are stockpiled? Where you have piled your wood stock? Or where you Really Live with your loved One? Or - if you want to seriously engage yourself deeper in a spiritual quest - where is to be found that Non-Place - Atopia or Erewhon - of your most fundamental belonging? Would taking seriously such a quest not ask for cutting through any form of materialism even in spiritual matters? “That is far beyond any of your capabilities,” She would tell me. “You are not capable of Throwing Away Any Thing!”

“You have been carrying along your Fetish Objects since you were born! Cutting through your Objects of Desire, Hah...Please, spare me your Nonsense Tales! You should learn to see your own Impossible Character, and cut that into pieces, throw that Lumber into your Nice Fire. Together with Your Megalomanic Library & That Stupid Archive Clutter we are Crammed with!
Don’t try to fool me with your exalted words about Courage to Be Authentic in Spiritual “Matters”.
One Robe, One Bowl and Throw the Rest Away, One Book and One Dossier in the Fire a Day.”