It's a sin

The post where some may stigmatize me as a die-hard atheist.

So the topic is sins and sinning, and as such I must start with emphasizing how much of a nonsense it is.
First of all, humans were created (well, not by god) as peccable entities or with other words, being capable for making mistakes. True or not, as we cheat on each other, lie etc. we commit the mistakes that may possibly reshape our life and our character. We tremble and we fail but we learn each time from our mistakes. And may the mistakes either overcome us or surrender at our feet, our lives are constant battles with our own liabilities. And it's good and proper that way.

And that's were the term 'sin' comes into the picture. A word that is -supposedly- mightier than 'mistake'. The word that doesn't originate from simple human beings but from a transcendent power above us. Practically, sin is a revelation of god and as such should be followed by all who fear him.

Now this makes our situation pretty much fucked up. The atheist has the convenience of not worrying about sins. It's more than enough to face our own defects without messing up things with god and his promulgated sins. But what about the believers? The billions of people, with the shackles of sin chained to their limbs and around their necks?

Well, let me derive the issue through a simple example.

There is a muslim woman. She always believed in the existence of god. She have been praying since her childhood. One day this woman cheats on her husband. The 'why' is not important. She wanted something new or she was just horny enough to do it. After all, she still believes in god but the sins she had committed makes her a liability. Knowing this was one of the worst sins of all she is perfectly sure forgiveness is an unattainable thing. She lives the rest of her life knowing she will certainly get to hell.

Well, this is how an atheist without any compromises imagines the situation. However I'm very much aware of the fact that believers could easily tear it to pieces. Firstly, sinning doesn't automatically 'grants' you the ticket to the hell. You may balance with good things so at the end when god's final judgement is upon you, you still have the chance for getting to heaven.

But the real deal is about forgiveness here. If we sin, we make god furious but we can redeem his kindness with good deeds. Practically this is the same for atheists as well: you make mistakes but correcting them ensures yourself that you are in balance again. Well, then what's the point in it? Why do we need the myth of this mighty, fearsome guy watching above us? Can't we just simply make our mistakes and then try to learn from them?

Nope. We just have to have him, a being so great and unreachable that is beyond our imagination. We live our humble lives according to one of the holy books, filled up with teachings coming straight from this fearsome creature. What a divine and holy link between creator and creation.

Hereby I would like to cite a conversation with a good friend of mine. A muslim herself, she has some doubts on her mind but during our discussions she represents the believer, while I... well, the other side. So here is what we talked about.

Starting with suicide, she mentioned a passage from Qu'ran that a sane man committing suicide is a great sin. Meanwhile, if a man with a hazy mind (well,mentally unhealthy? I have never been good in politically correct language) does the same, he shall be forgiven as he isn't aware that he sinned. Say what?

So practically, you may sin as you like as a mentally sick because god is merciful towards handicapped people. Well, let's face it: if you are handicapped on Earth you will be handicapped in the afterlife as well. But at least the term 'sin' won't apply for you. The term which, by the way was created by sane people. When I mentioned about this to my friend (as in: the holy books written by over-represented human beings) she told me the following (I must say I haven't read the Qu'ran and only passages of the Bible which would make a good point if I was criticizing the book but here it's about the origin of it).

Angel Gabriel gave the teachings to Mohammed who was writing the holy book for years after this encounter. So basically the unreachable fictional character (god) gave laws to another fictional character (Gabriel) just so he can give it to a real person who would later create the book which is followed by a billion nowadays. This just leaves me astonished. Why is god such a douche?

Man, you created us so why do you have to use your servants to teach us? You know how human nature is: we are curious and we doubt. So if you play hide and seek, many will part from you and never believe your existence. Seriously, why do you have to raise a few prophets out of the crowd (with the help of your angels) instead of just simply descending from the clouds and saying hi to all of us?

Atheists would shut their mouths forever, believers would be joyful and world order would be set. I would be honestly really happy. But no: you have been keeping silent since Mohammed's actions in the Middle East. That is like 1400 years without a remarkable event and please don't say we drifted away from you so far that you can't send your next prophet, son, or final judgement.

The thing is, god, that you must have seen the same thing happening earlier. The mighty Greeks with their gods sitting on the top of the Olympus had become just a mythology fueling Disney movies. Do you also want to become a Pixar animation in the next century? People forget, and you have to be aware of it. The lane humanity switched to is swifter than ever. Technology will soon (or already does) confute many practical beliefs about your existence.

(...)

I'm just saying, god. You better watch out and start interacting again with your most precious toys once more.

on the edge

Something usual. My mood, as it is. Awakened by the song: click and read!

And if i fall would you hold me?

sun shines through the leaves. im six again. we are walking home from the kindergarten. my mom is holding my hand. the street we walk on is lit by gentle and barely warm sunshine... i kick up the leaves. im fooloing around: i touch the fence with my fingers as i ran aside. im happy.

Would you pass me by?

i wear a blue hat and scarf. my grandma knitted it. but its not important. i find an old matrasse. climbing on it i start jumping up and down. im even happier.

I stand on the edge of the broken sky

now im home again... the sun could lit our living room with an eternal beauty. something that cannot be taken away from my childhood. as i sit at the kitchen table, im drinking some milk. with cocoa. i used to love it. my father is playing the piano now: my mom is not home. they are about to divorce.

So confused,
my thoughts are taking over

he is playing a beautiful tune. as he always does! as im drinking and listening... i start crying. i dont know how the tears came, but my dad jumps up with inhuman speed (as he always did when i started crying). he is almost shouting 'did you bite your tongue'... im crying and he cant sooth me.
how can i explain that the sun  is so beautiful? that the bright living room, with him sitting at the piano and playing that melody was just perfect? that i loved sitting and drinking my milk? as he hugs me tight i realize how much i scared him.

Would you pass me by?

he decides he gives up everything that day. the suit that had been going on for months about our flat, and everything else was given up. just because of the sunshine, a piano and a glass of milk.

And if I should fall, would you hold me?
Would you pass me by?

Would you believe that an adult can cry as he sees the sunlight? as he hears a melody he likes. as he remembers his family.

 or just: when he doesnt know how to finish writing.

My mind is playing tricks with me

We use only 10% of our brain.

A few years ago I was amazed by this overused fact. Already having an interest in mysticism through a philosophy school I attended earlier, I was constantly looking for a way to enhance that lazy 90%. I could write a lot about how I tried to use my psychological issue, the sleep paralysis to take my brain to an uncharted territory but for the moment I'll attempt to stay with more common examples.

During my studies I got pretty close to gonzo journalism and particularly to the life and work of Hunter S. Thompson, father of the genre (gonzo is when the writer uses mind-altering drugs which results extraordinary writings). Well, I was only experimenting with Hungarian wine which proved itself a worthy companion on my road into the unknow lands of my brain. I loved escaping parties in Eger without notice just to get home and type a few lines.

Soon enough some feedbacks made me clear that wine is not necessarily increasing my brain capacity, more like pushing it down. As some posts included parts where I hit the keyboard with my head ('bhkadhrfblrhıbavhleb') and I even considered it as a piece of art by the time when I created them, I had to realize imagination and brain shouldn't be combined with alcohol in order to reach another level.

(...)

I used to lay down on my bed in Szentendre. The rooftop window was just above my head which made stargazing an easy and awesome experience. So here is how my brain messed things up in a morning. As I opened my eyes I could see the light blue sky without any clouds on. But something was wrong. There were tiny, greyish spots on the sky. I just couldn't figure the origin of the mysterious points. My brain was telling me they were stars. But it just sounded nonsense. I learnt it long before that start cannot be seen during daylight. Our Sun is just too close and the stars are too far. However, since I always stargaze from that spot, and the sky was particularly clear, I started to think that my sight is so sharp that I'm really able to spot the stars hiding behind the light of the sun. I was staring at them in awe.

The moment of truth came when I moved my head. The little spots were on my window. Well, I haven't had it cleaned for some months. With dreams broken, I cursed my brain for playing the trick on me.

But what would happen if we'd use 30,50,70 or even more of the grey matter? An icomplete list of all the stuff I could think about with that 10%:

- No religions:
With a perfectly rationalist mind which can explain all the questions around us we certainly won't need a being who listens to our cries and gives us shelter. Why? Cause we'd be too smart to get too desperate or long for guidance.

- No passion:
Sometimes our brain is simply not dominant enough to say 'no' and our heart gets the upper hand. With a super-brain? No way emotions would lead us to reckless decisions.

- The death of the system of economy and governments; the fall of 'world leaders'
When everyone ıs equally genius, it becomes tough to decide who gets into which position. This should result a world where everyone is equal and money and hierarchy are non-existant.

- Golden age of science:
It's hard to argue that the only thing moving humanity forward is science. Thus, a world consisting only high-capacity brains should result a sudden boom in answering the eternal questions.

- Arts morph with science and everyday life:
As the passion is gone, the main reason dies which used to ignite masterpieces over thousands of years. Art gets degraded to the level of convinience, such as designing (clothes, houses, devices) where it can serve us in a useful way.

I can surely say with my ten percent that it sounds like a dystopia I'd never like to live in. As our brain could take over our emotions we'd become something inhuman, something that sci-fis depict as wise but cold androids or computers (see HAL for instance).

And as it's our nature that we are curious about everything, the super-brain would probably kill curiosity as well. So I have to apologize, Mr. Lennon, but (y)our vision of a better world should stay as a fiction forever.

I love my world with all the hate, the sorrow and woe, wars and lies in it. But what I love the most is the 10% that sometimes lets me down, sometimes turns me own, but never, never leaves me alone.

The rainbow is a lie

I don't really know how to start. The past few days reshaped everything what I knew about a girl. This post is about her but not for her. A song and it's lyrics assisted gently, see the italics.

It always starts with an insignificant spark. It goes unnoticed but it ignites the mighty and uncanny mechanism of the phenomena called love.

This story started the same way. Sparks jumped out of nowhere as the two met. However only She saw the initial sparks. He, as usual missed to realize what is going on. It was already too big to resist when the swirl sucked in both of them.

Four months were spent in this spinning wheel. Time seemed to pass swift and summer was indeed approaching. When the day of farewell came He saw the stars lookin' in her eyes. As if he had caught the rainbow's end. But now He had to let the phenomena go.

Summer was gone and He went on chasing the rainbow. Crossroads tried to deceive Him though. He arrived weathered but He arrived and nothing else mattered. He wanted to fly again.

But the rainbow has definitely changed. Has become a mirage and nothing else. What's worse, two months and some more passed and the awful lie, the most awful lie of all emerged.

That fame was the only thing that mattered. Once the scene changed... so She changed with it. Nothing mattered about the past but only the present. And in the present He was not good enough for delivering  the kiss-up She would expect. The He who She can put out in the window is whats She really needed. And suddenly He was thrown out of the whirl, left alone sitting. However Her twirl went on twisting other He-heads, twirling and raging.


For a name in the world today, for a little bit of fame today...

And as I type the last lines I find the only truth about rainbows. You hope you find the gold that resides within a pot at the bottom of it; but then it's nothing but flashy and colorful trumpery in it.

(...)

People hate rain and hope for the rainbow. Well, I love the rain more.

 Modest and transparent; but at least it exists.

Bittersweet Armenia

I broke my own record: from August to January I haven't moved out of Trabzon. The only time when I spent more than that in my life was in my mom's belly. Before going crazy, a week holiday dragged me out of the still water and took me to Armenia. Brief summary of the trip; pictures in this post, at the Peter vs Minolta X-700 tab and on the Hungarian blog.

Too much planning kills the joy of traveling. Despite of the well-known saying, the promise of a holiday started to work the chains and I decided in December that Armenia will be the destination. During Erasmus I had the chance to visit Georgia and Iran but couldn't manage Armenia, so going there was almost a must.

Armenia, this small nation is one of the three Caucasian countries, neighboring Turkey, Georgia, Iran and Azerbaijan. Out of these two are impassable, which already indicates the bitter history of a struggling country.

My road led through Tbilisi; as I left the Black Sea the weather got dryer and much colder. My first encounter with winter came in an awful marshrutka ride from Tbilisi to Yerevan. The drive was a smoker, and apparently had no intention on putting down the damned cigarette nor to pull up the rear window in the fiercest blizzard. His nasty habit left me freezing on the backseat. Nothing proves my pain better than this shitty pic I took up in the mountains during a short break:

And even though I passed through the Northern mountainous area, it deserves a few lines here.

Soviet architecture was never known for its beauty, but the Armenian soviet era has left an expressly ugly mark on the North side. While mother nature molded the rugged mountains and vast forests into a breathtaking view, the Soviets ruined as much as they could. High and grey, 20-storey buildings uglify these amazing peaks. What's more, some of these buildings are derelict. Or at least they appear to be derelict: Hovo shocked me not long after that poor people tend to move in to these places if they find a room suitable enough. The word 'suitable' definitely means something different there.

Arriving to the capital was much sweeter than expected. Marina, a journalist apprentice from couchsurfing helped me out with finding my hostel in town, and spent the whole next day with me exploring the city.

However the weather wasn't this kind, we roamed through the town under the veil of impenetrable fog. Thus one of the main reasons of my visit, seeing the mighty Ararat had to be postponed. I couldn't stop myself though from shopping a creative photo:

Later on I met my host and his girlfriend. They lived in a small flat almost in the very centre of Yerevan. Our plans about visiting the 'non-existing' Nagorno Karabakh (maybe later a separate post about it) were cancelled eventually. Money, time and snow were made responsible. At least I had more time to explore the city.A few days afterwards lady luck eventually shone upon me: Ararat showed itself. Foggy as it was but visible enough to take some over exponated pictures:

Legend has it that the two mountains were sisters who quarelled too much so they were separated. Or more like 'sat apart'. Like rascals. Like my students...

This awesome view was available from the genocide memorial. Sadly the museum was closed but the monument makes it sure you won't forget about it:

I will write a separate post about the genocide and the so-called controversy (as its called here in Turkey) but for now just a short story about the other issue the country has: the historically awful relationship with Azerbaijan.

Sophie, who was volunteer had an interview with an Armenian woman who fled Azerbaijan during the 80's. The woman gave such an emotional interview but I only understood later what she talked about exactly. As she saw her parents executed she could control herself but when she was telling how Azeris threw out little children out of windows... she burst out in tears. The difference between the two nations is more tense than ever, without exaggerating they are on the brink of war.

Back to Yerevan now. Two things seem to be infinite here. One is the sea of communist style blocks; a night shot:

The other is the surprisingly common presence of art. Botero statue in a park:

Or just a random E.A. Poe painting in a back alley:

Van Gogh cafe, statues everywhere and loads of graffiti-style portraits of artists, this city never seems to run out of novelty. Here is another guy who according to Marina committed suicide during the genocide (a great pianist, the statue is in front of the conservatory):

Most people here speak Armenian and Russian, however English doesn't seem to be much present (at least not when I was asking for directions). Check the spelling:

Note the name Armen: according to Sophie, it's quite a nationalist thing when you name your kid like that. Made me wonder how it would sound in different languages, a short compilation:

Hungary - Hunger (hoho)
Turkey - Turk (which isn't funny at all as it's an existing name)
Argentina - Argent (Mr. Silver?)

Okay peter, this was lame.

What else to say? Armenia is bitter because of its history and poverty; but at the same time it is sweet thanks to the people who live in it and the breathtaking landscapes you roam through. I'm more than glad for having visited a country with a story than just being a tourist in a place which everybody knows inside out.

People! Visit countries which the majority won't. And you will never forget.

(And Marina! Gotta visit you during summer.)

Describe a relationship with RHCP lyrics!

I grew up on RHCP. Literally, I remember my first experience came at the age of 7 maybe. We lived in a sunny flat in Budapest with my mom. When my stepfather moved in, he brought loads of cassettes with himself; a piece of this collection was Blood Sugar Sex Magik. How much I loved it! Even though I didn't get a word from the lyrics, I memorized as much as I could. I clearly remember when I asked Gergő about the following line:

Suck my kiss

 I did understand my kiss however I had no clue about suck (which I tend to forget during these days of pauper). He, obviously not willing to explain the real meaning told me something like soaping. I remember myself in awe, thinking how cool and punk it is to soap a girl's kiss! Just pushing the bar of soap in her mouth when she wants a kiss.

Anyways, my enduring love towards the band never diminished. Knowing most of their lyrics, at the age of 18, the year dedicated to my broken heart I realized how much they can describe a relationship. The most elemental example is Breaking the girl, which I always listened with joy after ending a relationship (or even beforehand...duh).

So yesterday I got the idea: let's try to describe a relationship with only RHCP lyrics! Enjoy as I attempt the impossible.

Phase 1. Spotting the girl
(Dosed)

In you a star is born and,
You cut a perfect form and,
Someone forever warm,
Lay on, lay on, lay on, lay on,
Lay on, lay on, lay on, lay on

Phase 2. Insisting a closer relationship
(C'mon girl)

C'mon girl
Let's get it right
Let's get it right
Let's get it right

Phase 3. Blinded by the pink cloud
(Falling into grace)

Head dressed in white
Beauty bazaar
You can smell the purple light
Comin' from her hear

Phase 4. Starting making demands as the initial passion is gone
(Suck my kiss)

Hit me you can't hurt me
Suck my kiss
Kiss me please pervert me
Stick with this

Phase 5. Issues start to occur but you don't take it serious
(Minor thing)

To readjust you've got to trust
That all the fuss is just a minor thing, y'all

Phase 6. She throws you out in the cold, you feel like...
(Nobody weird like me)

I'm a freak of nature
walking totem pole
look and see I think you'll agree
nobody weird like me

 Phase 7. You swear to bring down the stars for her...
(I could die for you)

Come again and tell me
Where you want to go
What it means to me
To be with you alone 

Phase 8 ...however, your prayers are unanswered
(Tear)

In the end and then
All will be forgiven when
Surrender rises high and I
Gave what I came to give

Phase 9. You are desperate and feel the world is filled with idiots
(Pea, made it plural for better understanding)

Fuck you assholes
You homophobic redneck dicks

Phase 10. All your efforts were in vain. You have to realize the only thing loving you is not a person.
(Under the bridge)

It's hard to believe
That there's nobody out there
It's hard to believe
That I'm all alone
At least I have her love
The city she loves me
Lonely as I am
Together we cry

+Phase 11. For the clingy ones who can't move over the past
(Don't forget me)

Don't forget me I can't hide it
Come again get me excited

 So... I hope it was satisfactory...

It was August

(so click here for an improved blog experience.)

It was August, 2012.

After a day-long trip the bus rolled to a derelict gas station. The passengers spread out towards the toilet or lit a cigarette. Both have equivalent importance. Eventually, I was in Turkey.
It was truly freezing. Amidst the mountains of Inner Anatolia the small station was built on the ridge of a gentle hill. The cold wind was sweeping from the top of the road downhill only to creep under my clothes. I was tired. And shaken. With the malleable, clay-like near future right on the top of the hill waiting for me I shivered and turned my back. The sun was going down but the dense mass of clouds didn't let the last beams light the highlands. Hazy tones of orange and red painted the bottom of the sky.
My eyelids were wetted; by my thoughts or the wind I couldn't tell.

I felt like it's only me, the bus and the mountains.

The first time in my life I was making a decision solely on my own. Was the country or the love that anticipated this move more? I was hesitating. The earlier didn't sound convincing enough, a country would never affect me so much. The latter... I'd never admit such a bold move. And yet here I stand.

My saddest fucking August.

The month I always hated and loved the most. The peak and landmark of each year. The grand final.

As the Sun shrank into a distant point and eventually vanished from the grim sky, I got back on the bus. My highly emotional self felt the gloomy sunset was forecasting an even gloomier scenario I was about to experience.

Shortly, life in Trabzon and my exaggerated misery had begun. But nothing happens in vain. One thing I learned during through my adventure in Calypso nymph's city was that life is much bigger than our petty decisions and concerns... so I definitely won't be the guy making a fuss about it.

And hey! We only live once. Fucking it up just doesn't seem to make any sense.