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Una delle mie migliori letture relax dell'ultimo periodo puo' essere trovata qua:
L'adorabile fragranza che si sprigiona dai banchi del parlamento e' una delle poche cose davvero splendide che io abbia avuto modo di annusare dai tempi di tangentopoli ad oggi.
A te, che sei il cuore mio.
E' tempo di accettare la fine delle vacanze e di questo difficile 2006-2007.
Ti ho sempre disprezzato, ma devo ammettere che tu pure hai un perche', in fondo.
Le cose difficilmente si evolvono nella maniera in cui sono state pensate o immaginate in prima istanza. In questo sta il genio, del resto. Nella capacita' di adattare i piani alle esigenze del momento. In "Fantasia, Intuizione, Decisione e Rapidita' di Esecuzione", come ben disse qualcuno prima di me.
No compromises.
This concept, a lot before than any other, gives life to the phenomena of the beasts and their music.
The understanding of an idea that is simple only in appearance constitutes the most important element to eviscerate the meaning of a movement that is huge and complex. A different World totally separated from the categories and the rules of our “civil” life.
And a meaning exists, no doubt about that.
A special meaning that is expressed in one, or two, or perhaps one hundred sun risings that arrive while the music is still pumping without pause blood in the veins and oxygen to the brain.
The light slowly illuminates the environment, and shows a world that is not scared of responsibilities or mirrors. That does not accept any compromise, as without feeling any shame it does not request comprehension or human piety from the outside.
In the hallucinated eyes that stay open, blind and empty, above clenched jaws in the grip of MDMA overdoses trance music feels totally at ease. Not any more or less than in front of the colourful explosion of creativity, energy and vitality that originates from its people.
And the zombies of 7 a.m. in the morning, as well as the more deformed freaks, or the “fallen” in battle whose expressions reveal an abyss of drugs and nothing are part of that people by undisputable right. As well as the jugglers, the goan shamans, and the most beautiful women, in the end.
Trance does not know the idea of refusal, and perhaps not even that of malice. Taken as a community trancers are generous and open minded. Honest, before anything, but also compassionate and ready to help each other. They are always smiling, ready to chat with the maximum pleasure with any stranger. Kind with anybody, whatever are his and their conditions.
Trancers are ready to leave a whole night a wallet alone on a table in plain sight, if not searching for hours the legitimate owner in order to return it. Or to explain with calm and patience, to a series of faces deep down in drugs that do not understand a word, how it is important to save nature and returning the plastic cup of the coffee is worth one euro.
A marvellous community, living in a constant dance over a dangerous rope. The thin red line that separates the dead from the living, the losers from winners, and over which only a few can maintain a real equilibrium.
Even by being so open and inviting in his anarchy, in fact, trance becomes elitist when the first and most important value, life itself, comes into play. Only the strongest, the most prepared from the spiritual and psychological point of view, and the most intelligent can have some hope of keeping the dance without being destroyed by its momentum.
Trancers live, often unconsciously, on the verge of an abyss. Surrounded by a land of toys that remembers very well the one portrayed by Collodi in “Pinocchio”, in their community anything is easily accessible, and any abuse can metaphorically transform in donkeys.
Drugs cannot be considered as an absolute evil. This old conception that animates modern western societies is founded on a blind refusal of the most elementary rules that give to human beings the impulse to act. Drugs are a mean, not more or less evil than a stone, a piece of paper, or even a gun. They are an object, before anything else, and an object that is deputed to a lot of different uses. They can animate creativity and human genius, as they already did during the centuries, and they can kill as well.
Evil is not in the objects. It can be found, contrarily, in the use that is made of those objects. Trance music creates a world to its own image and likeness in which the judgement and the moral scruple are absent, along with any preoccupation about human weaknesses and the horribly wrong use that can be made of some objects. In some ways trance does not negate to anyone the possibility to suicide, and does not judge or exclude who is doing that actively.
An exercise of freedom that is totally coherent with the anarchic and naturistical spirit that animates the whole phenomenon.
So we are at the beginning again, back to that meaning discussed in the initial lines. That arrives in that “unique” sunrise, so identical to another hundred sunrises and another hundred parties in the ability to express completely the real soul of trance music. The sun, that illuminates without any mercy the shit and the human weaknesses, evidences the beautifulness as well. The energy. The courage. The deep honesty and the sense of liberation and peace that emerges while dancing “for real”. From being “free” from prejudices, preoccupations, and anything else.
The last stop of a mystical trip, rigorously psychedelic, that involves both the exterior, in the form of an enchanted and alien world, and the interior, in the form of deep introspection and research for equilibrium.
The sun rises over a body that is exhausted from the physical point of view, having sweated out all of its toxins, and illuminates a mind still awake and alive, away from the stress and the rules of “civil” society, and exactly for this reason infinitely more open and receptive. And so it can happen, perhaps under a icy rain, to hear a single, perfect note shoot at one billion watts by the wall of speakers. And it becomes like a preternatural calling, to be answered by running on the grass and leaving behind clothes and shoes to finally dance naked. To find ourselves bare footed in the mud, surrounded by the same destroyed and hallucinated faces that were scary only a few minutes before and totally let loose for hours and hours.
Unholy priests of a pagan cult. Sons of the last breaths of the failure of the hippies, first heralds of a crazy and lost world. Surrounded not anymore by freaks and monsters, but by brothers, the thing that we are doing for real is a sacred rite. The mass of the weirdos and the refused, of the abandoned waste of humankind. A shout powerful, filled with rage, incoherent and destruptive as, in the end, are life and death. A show of energy spitted in the face of a world in which it is too easy to become a zombie, even without any need of going down with MDMA.
In such a world the beautifulness that originates from freedom and joy of life easily takes the heart away. It is such and so huge that it deserves for real the existence of a light at the end of the tunnel. That sadly lacks, as Hunter had understood very well a lot of years ago.
The confrontation with ourselves, passing by synthetic drugs or by a life spent in the anxious search of money and power, is a solitary and obscure march. A tiring and consuming walk that is based more often on illusion than on truth. A road made of mistakes, sometimes even huge ones, and of victims.
But if illusion is a part of our lives, and in our world for real human cost can be a question of numbers and statistics, to be evaluated while sitting on a good leather seat, then it is also true that it is impossible to judge.
So dance, beautiful trancers. Without any shame.
And me along with you.
...il nubifragio.
