People wonder about the world and try to express its essence since thousands of years. Think of the cave paintings in Altamira, an African dance mask, Homer’s Odyssey, or a Haiku by Bashō, to name just a few. Why? Why do we spend time and effort to create apparently useless objects, things that don’t increase our chance to survive and pass on our genes?
I think it is for the magic – or for psycho-hygiene to use a more modern term. By telling a story about the world, by depicting how we see it, we make it follow our rules and are no longer its plaything. Of course, it’s an illusion – magic, an ancient coping mechanism – psycho-hygiene.
OK, that may explain why we express ourselves, but why should others see, read, know about our stumbling attempts? A clumsy try to escape the fact that we are trapped in ourselves?
I do not believe for a minute that my view of the world is the right one or would matter in the big scheme of things. What I try to express will always remain my personal view, my private impression at the time. It may evoke something in you, maybe something entirely different from what I felt, and that’s OK; it’s enough if what I tried to express resonates with you just for a moment.