The indian turned 180 degrees

John Bjarne Grover

I have studied the indian in 0, 90 and 270 degrees - and only 180 degrees remain.

There seem to be two main interpretations which call for a certain GeSTALT switch for seeing both:

1) The first seems to show a mumin character of Tove Jansson - having been up to the kiosk for an ice cream, strolling back to the beach with bathing ball under the arm:

   

Such a nich day. The mumin is probably a variant of the female archetype with the long trunk forwards in front of her face. The ball could perhaps be a white cat.

2) The other GeSTALT seems to show a woman who is 'breast-feeding' her child but in a paradoxical sense of it - the child is her breast and she puts the food with a hand into his face, that is her breast - she is feeding her breast:

   

The enigmatic chinese GUAI sign is in the mumin version on his belly, on the navel or thereabout - while in the second gstalt it is in the cortex of the young man child, the mystery breast: It is precisely there were I believed that I was hit by a laser beam soon after I had read the news of Ingrid Betancourt (like the food inserted into the 'thoughts'?) on 23 february 2002 - the spring when I ran out of money in Vilnius but instead of going back to 'motherland' or 'fatherland' Norway I went to France to seek political asylum. My left hand side was paralyzed by the assumed laser on my cortex, and when I got a magnet resonance scan of my brain in 2012, there were traces of a lesion in just that area - there had been a cerebral haemorraghe just there. It could have been caused by a laser beam, I guess. But this other GSTALT tells that it could be about the MEYR whose authority to the left arm is limited and so to speak taken over by the mother - and it took many years to regain some agility of the left arm and hand.

Could be the 2002 story was about the GSTALTMEYR-gasse in Vienna.

If the ball of the mumin really is a white cat, it could be the one of the car number distribution in my novel 'The Dreamer' - on a later new years eve I was analyzing the distribution of these numbers and there was always a curve looking like a cat's head coming up. I have later found that the car numbers in this Dreamer novel is the fruit juice for the SOMA of this novel: It is an envoy from heaven (a white stone?) who comes to earth to make a report on the state of the art there - that is the novel - and he lands in Nilserudkleiva and soon starts turning schizophrenic under the pressure of what he sees and writes about - 'NIL ser u kleiva' - and he gives in to the pressure of this 'mortar' and moves down to Krumgata where he is crushed against the 'bronze'. There seems to be most or all of the ingredients in a SOMA cure - and the reader gets the text massaged into the soul in such a way that the eventual ascension can be enjoyed by the reader as well as the writer. The eventual state of mind can be called 'the promised land'.

Clearly this fruit juice cat and the SOMA ice cream is a more appealing interpretation than the hijacked leftside authority of the breast-feeding - unless it simply is at the dentist's. I wrote the novel soon after the exchange of letters between Nelly Sachs and Paul Celan had been published on Suhrkamp - but I did not discover that book of theirs before a decade had elapsed and I had come to Vienna in the summer and autumn 2004.

When in 2014 I collapsed again, about 4444 days after 2002, it was the right hand and not the left that was paralyzed - and I did associate my state of mind with the Ganesh-like ex nihilo character I call 'the philosopher of language' - here his 'mumin' face seen from the side and a closeup of the 'theory of language' he pronounces - there seem to be one if not even two moebius strips there:

   

Conclusion: It is not certain that it was a laser beam that hit my cortex in 2002 - it could have been simply the semiotic effect of a detachment from the 'octogonal' background towards the jewish-genetic. The SOMA issue is what is contained also in this gap between the two ways of understanding contained in my poetry book 'Der Dornenstrauch'.



John Bjarne Grover
On the web 10 november 2017