I knew something was wrong when I came down to my desk and saw that my notebook and the translations were gone.

"Yes, they are not there. I have locked them all in the safe. You donąt realize how vulnerable I am. You could do anything with this material, I really have no control. I suggest that you go back to Oslo, decide exactly what you want from me, and then come back. Then you can have back whatever you need, if I know exactly how you will use it. See, I told you I would turn into a troll if we watched that film. It made me suspicious. I can trust no one anymore...I have made mistakes in the past. I cannot make them again."

"Now wait a minute. You have no right to confiscate my notes like that." I realized I was in a tenuous position here. I needed that notebook back. Much of it was on other things than Finn Alnćs. On the other hand, I am not so sure he would have liked me to write down all the things I have down about him, on those last few pages.
"Besides... only a few pages concern you. And theyąre just fragments of translations..."

"No. You are some kind of journalist. I am afraid that you are writing down everything that I say."

This was true. I was writing down everything he said. It somehow seemed worthy of being written down. But I must not let him discover this.

"That book was empty when you arrived!"

"No it was not." This was true. "See; it is dated October 1985. I started it over a month ago." It contained all my notes on the whole ecophilosophy project.

"See, now this first page is about a book on gestalt psychology...Here, the figure-ground distinction is introduced..."
"Wait....that is just what we talked about. It is about me!"
"No. It is about a book called Gestalt Therapy by Frederick Perls. Look, here is an excerpt:

The primitive says "The Earth is starving, therefore we are starving. And we say, "We are starving, therefore let us wrest something more from the Earth:" symbiotically both attitudes are bad dreams.

"But that is so relevant to what we have been talking about!"
"Well...of course it is relevant. That is why I have come here to see you. This was my preparation. Here, another excerpt, from the same book:

To the extent that there is a discrepancy from the verbal concept of the self and the felt awareness of the self‹this is neurosis‹so notice the difference as you slip from one to the other.

Healthy verbalizing takes off from what is non-verbal...But when one fears contact with actuality, with flesh-and-blood people and with oneąs own sensations and feelings‹words are interposed as a screen between the verbalizer and his environment and between the verbalizer and himself. The person attempts to live on words‹and then wonders vaguely why something is amiss!

"Well, we talked about this, too."
"No, we didnąt. But perhaps we should have."
"What? "
"Now look at the next page. Itąs about Wittgenstein. Have you read Wittgenstein? No, I didnąt think so. Of course I havenąt really read him either, but here are some notes:

219. When I obey a rule, I do not choose. I obey the rule blindly.

333. Only someone who is convinced can say that.

"Did you ever think of that? Both the words Śconvictedą and Śconvincedą lead to conviction. Ah, perhaps it doesnąt work in Norwegian, kanskje?"
"No....I donąt know."

456. When one means something, it is oneself meaning.

"Well, it is a good thing there isnąt anything too personal in this book of mine, isnąt it? Now would you let me do this with your notebooks? I know you keep them under lock and key, as you would like to keep this one. I know they are in there, yes, drafts and sketches for Gemini, Musica, Dynamis, and future novels: Korona, and who knows what else..."

"Yes, yes, I know. You know how I am. Forgive me this one indiscretion."

"OK...now next are some characterizations of the poles of intrinsic value by Archie Baum, an obscure southwestern philosopher. Have you heard of him? I didnąt think so. Yes: ŚHedonism exists between pleasure and pain. Romanticism between desire and lack of desire, voluntarism between satisfaction and frustration, atmanism between....ą"

"Enough, enough! I donąt need to hear any more. Iąm sorry. It is wrong of me to keep this. Nothing there is about me." He flips quickly through the pages that are about him without reading. Luck .
All is returned intact. Maybe this is not so good.

"All right. You can have it all back. "But we have not understood each other. "You came here looking for optimism, pure
constructivism. I have wanted to give you art. These two are not the same. In the future they may become the same. You are asking me in the present for the future."

...An artist who works alone: should one work so alone? He in his own world interests me. In his way, he is the most integric ecosopher of them all.

We know well the paradoxes:  The more understanding you have, the fewer are those who will understand you. When art calls one can no longer be a responsible and political citizen.

And can one only be optimistic as an artist who creates his own epic worlds? Is this act of creation what it means to be ecological. To create oneąs own universe, yes, one, among unknown many?
Who will be changed by it? Who will glean hope from it? Whoever can take the time I suppose. Whoever can be induced to dream a similar dream.

Where in all this are the worldąs problems touched? Does the muse drive one away from them to the stars, the comets, upon ski tracks over viddas?

Yes, Finn, you can show us the joy of being part of the Cosmos, Astromia, and all. But maybe to really take this choice you must leave us behind.

Oh, I canąt breathe or continue, the tragedy and condition are so clear. And I can tell you no more, for I have learned what shall be the substance of my future works.

And I donąt know if I can let these words stray from me too far.

I remember now two pictures above one another above the stairs, both of a cabin in the rain, with a slow exposure to show the tracks of the falling water. The upper one was gray, the lower slightly golden. He had said:

"See, in the opposite direction from this first photo was a full rainbow. The second was taken right from within the rainbow. So now you know what it looks like inside a rainbow."

I didnąt question that.

I never saw Finn Alnćs again. He spent several more years writing feverishly, being misunderstood, and feeling very much alone. In 1992 he was found dead at his writing table, after a tough period of suicidal tendencies, alcoholism, and neglect. 

He left at least four novels partially written. The Ildfesten cycle will never be completed.

WHEN I AM FAR (II)

But likewise, my friend, 
will I be far
all ways.
Live then all the days we had together. 
Think never I and you. Think we. 
Live this.
And never forget that we are here now. 
Now!
Your friend greets you
this way
to sunrise.

Dynamis