A cunning catatstrophe coming

The structure and fabric of the days at Punta Boca del Salado, Baja California, Mexico is suddenly changing.
This is because the propane tank is almost empty.

Forcing to break up camp and drive to La Paz.
Besides the different things that need to be done to be able to leave, like packing things, removing tarpaulins and dismantling the Weather Centre, inside the human being it is like a cookie jar too hard shaken.
The daily rhythm and energy waves suddenly switch into another gear.

For example, after lunch, each day a short siesta is performed but the turmoil inside is too intensive now to be peaceful enough to be able to close the eyes and drift into the land of the thousand dreams.

It is the mind that has already arrived in La Paz and imagines and fantasizes what will happen.
Where to go in La Paz.
Who to meet.
And what to do.
All this while knowing the unfortunate thing that most of what a mind imagines about what is going to happen, will turn out to be completely wrong.
The only effect the mind manages to accomplish is that the person is pushed out of the very moment life is taking place.
Hence the impossibility to have a peaceful siesta.
Or enjoy much and do securely the things that need to be done to be able to take off.

The good thing is that the mind is undermined in the way that there is consciousness about the mean working of the mind in a situation as is experienced now.
It is not able to push the protagonist out of the actual moment without it being very clearly noticed.
The mind is looked over its shoulder.
A sharp eye is kept on it.
It is shadowed securely.

A lot of the current inner turmoil about a visit to La Paz without even being there yet is coming from the knowledge that in the past the person writing has been unreliable to himself.
Repeatedly.
Life in a dry river bed, like at Punta Boca del Salado, is easy because there are hardly any temptations.
These are the boondocks and the Gonzales is a decent family.

However, the context of a city like La Paz, after 7 weeks in virgin-like retreat, presents a fertile ground to experience all kinds of temptations.
The city has a rhythm and an influence to do things that would never be morally tolerated when imagining it while in a situation like Punta Boca del Salado.
The railings guiding life safely ahead while in nature, fall away when arriving in a city.

One sees oneself resisting and rejecting things in one context, and suddenly embracing them when in a different context.
How unreliable and adolescent this is.

Of course, the best plans and promises are made before to go to town.
Agreements settled to be a good man.
Pledges made to be respectful and disciplined.
To avoid at all cost to be self-destructive.
To not dump garbage on the flowerbeds.
To swear to be wise and not stupid.

But it never worked.
It was and is always a failure.
The only protection available is to stay in town as short as possible and return quickly to the situation where there are no dangers.

So, the man can never live in a town anymore?
This is true.
If again a longer period will be spend living in a town, final destruction will soon come.

There is only one way to avoid deadly disaster and a cunning catastrophe.
It is the way Fyodor Dostoevsky managed to control his unstoppable and devastating urge and desire to gamble.
His protection was called Anna Grigorevna Snitkina.
She had the power to stop him being destructive and gave him emotional stability. As a result of her influence Dostoyevsky was disciplined and able to write his great books.

“Anna! Anna! Where are you? Am going to town!”




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