Logbook entry 10.11. over the Atlantic
Ode to naivety
At this moment, I find myself somewhere between continents and time. 1,374 kilometres from Miami, at -49°C and a cruising speed of 793 km/h, we have left the Bermuda Triangle behind us in the last half hour. The next place on the mainland would be Washington D.C.
Increasing technological advancement and digitalisation take a heavy toll on the soul. In this time capsule, we are flying so fast after the sun that my day today is six hours longer than usual. Even though this possibility has existed my whole life, and I took my first long-haul flight when I was young, I will probably never get used to being spat out of this space and time capsule called an aeroplane in a different place at a different time. Crossing the “pond” makes this spectacle even clearer to me. In my mind, I am much closer to my brother in Esslingen than my body is.
Given the non-place I find myself in, it seems wasteful to devote this time to the past, or indeed to the future. This flight, LH462, with hundreds of people on board, could give each and every one of them the gift of truly arriving in the moment and perceiving what is happening right now. My watch shows 19:32, we will arrive in Miami at 15:30. The reality in 2025 is that 98% of the windows are closed because we all prefer to indulge in our technological consumption and even Wi-Fi at an altitude of 10,000 metres is no longer a problem. I myself watched an entire season of a series – simply because it was there – before I remembered that writing these lines is also close to my heart. I surrendered myself willingly to the series for six of the ten hours. The time between now and then is a good hour.
Dear Momo. What do we do with the grey men who live in our hearts?
Now I’m no longer sitting in front of the telly, but still in a machine that is too fast for my soul.
Where am I supposed to find the time to prepare myself to rediscover a continent?
I don’t have the several weeks it took Columbus to reach America. I have 10 hours minus 6 hours that I voluntarily took for myself. The stewardess brings my dinner. It’s the middle of the day.
Digitalisation and technology are taking away our creativity, and we are happy to give it up. I have little curiosity and many prejudices about the USA. The media reports things that I cannot verify with my senses when I am in Germany. But they gnaw at my curiosity – preferably until there is nothing left of it. The journey to America has become so short that it is far too quick to allow curiosity to mature. Simply indulging in your own thoughts for weeks on end as you approach a place.
Nowadays, curiosity is no longer a natural state. It is a decision that must be defended fiercely. Internally and externally. Your inner demons, your friends, your family, who equate curiosity with naivety, stand in the way of your own will and test it. Choosing curiosity also means choosing naivety.
But is it still naivety if, through the clear vision of an unclouded gaze,
it is based on a conscious decision of the will?
Picasso’s much-quoted statement – that it took him a lifetime to be able to paint like a child again – is such a plea for active naivety. Naivety means being unbiased and interested. Naivety asks questions. It does not allow itself to be dissuaded from asking questions by learned systems of guilt.
– “Should I know that?” “If I ask that, they’ll think I’m stupid!”
Naivety is interested in life and the world; guilt systems are interested in getting away with things, in their own advantage, in protection from learned, often fictitious dangers.
Democracy and humanity, our fellow human beings and ourselves, depend on active naivety. Attention instead of aversion. The interest that arises from not knowing is the prerequisite for all the images we have created about the world; about science, art, health, economics, ecology and social issues.
Every achievement in the world stems from naivety. Regardless of whether it is perceived as beneficial or hindering.