Four days passed and Dieter and Martin found themselves in an outskirt of Slovenia, high up in the mountains. They had walked most of the way, kindly turning down offers of Slovenians volunteering to give them a ride. When the food supply ran out, Dieter refused to buy more, though there was no lack of shops in the villeages they trudged through. ‘There’s no need for food where we are going’ Martin had simply shrugged, the secretive ways of his taciturn father had finally aroused his curiosity and he did have to admit that Slovenia was a majestically beautiful country, that the fresh air was doing him good and that he didn’t even miss television, his computer nor his friends.

That night they ate the last of the foodstuffs, a rather Spartan meal, comprised of canned beans in tomato sauce, some crackers and two apples for dessert. Martin threw away his Apple core and quipped: ‘So starting tomorrow we hunt deer to keep us on our feet?’

His father reacted in uncharacteristically serious and determined tone: ‘Starting tomorrow we fast. You’ll stay here and I’ll move up a fewer hundred yards more.’

‘And then what?’

‘We wait and we fast.’

‘Wait for what?’, asked his son with big questioning eyes.

‘For the vision to come. If we wait long enough and concentrate on who we truly are a vision will come depicting are totem animal. That will be a symbol of our purest, inner strength, it will guide us on our path to our own, specific destinity. Finding it will prevent us from spending too much time in fruitless soul-searching and/or spending thousands of euros on therapists, shrinks and other quacks.’

Martin looked at his father in disbelief, he was ready to dash off an sms along the lines of ‘dad’s gone completely crazy this time, for sure’, if only his father hadn’t expressly forbidden to Carry his mobile phone in his bags with him.

‘So how will we be fasting?’

‘For as long as it takes.’

‘And what if the vision doesn’t come.’

‘Don’t you worry, it will.’

‘Are those totem animals or whatever aware that we have a plane to catch in three days?’

Dieter showed a half smile and then said reasuringly:

‘Look, I never told you this, but I’ve never had the feeling that I was being all that good a parent. Of course, it’s all monkey see monkey do, I mean, my dad did his best, but I think if he’d pushed me harder or something I might have seen more opportunities in my young life. So, for once, just trust me on this, I have a very good feeling on this and I just want you to time that I’m going to be a father to you, from now on.’

That were more words than Martin had received from his father than the sum total of an entire year, so he simply didn’t know how to react and just resigned himself to the idea of fasting for a couple of days. He’d never felt more important in his life than right this minute and, though the whole plan didn’t make any sense to him at all, he did appreciate the attention.

So in the morning, Dieter woke up early, broke up his pop tent and took off, handing a large bowie knife to his son, telling him to stay put and to only yell out if there was any real danger.

(to be continued)

18-10-2009 om 11:53 geschreven door Tederdraads  

“A wise man ought to follow the paths beaten by great men, and to imitate those who have been supreme”, Nicolo Machiavelli

Dieter’s son had no idea what his father was up to this time, he told his best friend, Eric, the night before Martin and his dad were to leave for their trip to Slovenia. 18-year old Martin wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, he had mixed feelings about it at best. His mother Elke, wasn’t all that happy with her husband’s travelling plans either. Though she had gotten used to it that Dieter liked taking off on his own for about a week a year on average, this time she felt particulary left out.

But she did as she always did, she shrugged and laughed it off, consoling herself with the thought that it was a small price to pay in exchange for a year-long equipoise in her husbands feelings. She knew all to well how he experienced society and his –in his eyes- petty role in it, as a noose that stuck ever more tighter around his neck. The trip would release some tension. She felt guilty anyway about being the all too conventional partner, who had little or no artistic aspirations and could only encourage or discourage, depending on her mood and the degree of wildness in her husband’s plans.

Elke was, as usual, packing her husband’s bags and tending to a thousand little details that her confused partner overlooked and was always ready to dismiss as unimportant triffles. Dieter had a late-night meeting with his long-time partner-in-crime, shortened to PIC, William. The two of them always had the strangest notions of how to deal with modern-day-life and both were not getting enough satifsfaction out of their all too ordinary jobs. This time William had talked his friend into setting the stage for a ritual aimed at opening up more paths in life for his son. The idea originated in ancient Indian practices and Dieter was thrilled.

Dreamer and chronic enthusiast William, had convinced him that present day manhood was in the most dire straits, that most Young men didn’t have a clue what to begin with their lives and that father’s simply passed meekness, unoriginality on to their sons, their example of dull office clerks being the perfect recipe for a life or unsatisfactory boredom. How different it all could be, if a father were to pick up his ancient role of opening the eyes of his son to life, to his inner self, to how powerful man can be if he only believes in himself and throws off society’s yoke. If only a father became both a pillar and a light-house in his son’s life, instead of a mere provider of material well-being, all that luxury that was sure to do more harm than good. No, William and Dieter were going to do it differently. They would be fathers, not mere dads.

(to be continued)

17-10-2009 om 21:56 geschreven door Tederdraads