Mima's Money Making Market Meditation

The experience of this Grumpy Frosty Doter Snowman says:
"When the desire for sexual release and reproduction is vanishing,
the mechanical mind and muscular machine tries to end easily"

This is my experience too.

The body feels like machin, like a robot: each breath, each movement, each effort, each and everything is done for survival.  Food, body exercises and cleaning, meeting with people, all and everything seems to be done for one purpose only: staying healthy and alive.  

Snow is falling; winter is the hardest time of the year. It's hard to earn money for my woman in a snow white cold country.  

It feels like the breath of death over the country. All these sorrows spread worldwide: the finance crisis, the climate crisis, the over population crisis, the energy crisis, the food crisis, the water, air, earth crisis, my life like every life feels like in deep crisis.  

Religion is our money making meditation, although most of us don't get any other results than poor miserly misery.

Mima's VW-Transporter "Sea Cow" with trailer and my 10 years old VW Golf IV "Gold Fish"
with snow on the roof in Bamberg Friday 11-21-2008

Things are getting even worse: My daughter fights for every little day to survive with her severe sickness. She is thin like a leaf of paper. She looks like light shines through her thin skin .  

These arduous efforts are too much for my 60 years old body. After pushing my body up to the mountain, after loading with Mima her trailer with her Christmas Market Hut my body feels exhausted. My stomach turns around.  

Monday morning we have to build up the Christmas Market Hut. But my nerves are so tense and keep the body awake for hours since 2.00 a.m. Finally we have to stand up 4.30 a.m. to meet with Mima's friends and 'big helpers' at 6.00 a.m. on the Market Place in Bamberg.  

Three days ago on Friday we have loaded the trailer plus her VW Transporter, the 'Sea Cow'. Together we carry the wooden walls and floor of the Market Hut, the lamps, the plastic roof, the shelves and the first items for her Christmas Market. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday she decorates all her pretty things, the candles, the toys. Christmas Market sale starts on Thursday and will end four weeks later, one day before Christmas. Therefore this time of the year is called now: Mima's Money making market meditation. She starts her work early in morning darkness. She ends her work late in evening darkness. Mima's money making meditation. Mima's money making Market meditation.

Fritz, Mima and Uwe building up her Christmas Hut on Bamberg Market
Monday Morning 11-24-2008

Wide View over the frozen country from the twelfth floor in Clinical Centre Bamberg

When we finished loading the trailer with her Market Hut, Mima gets a phone call:
"Your father had to go into the hospital. He got a brain stroke."  

The last free week end before the Christmas Market, Mima visits her father twice a day in the hospital.
 There the 84 years old man suffers in the twelfth floor with wide view over the frozen country.
Her father, who liked to drink all his life his little bottles of bitters and beer,
the old man can hardly swallow mush, water and tea.
It's hard to believe: Why has everything been so hard:
Life, friendship, relationship, sickness and death?
It feels like a curse about all beings, no matter if moving on four, three, two, one leg
- or without any legs at all. A kingdom for laughter or at least for a smile!

Now "The New List Order" is installed. It sucks to much energy to click away James Wyly's preaching. This guy spams our group more than everybody else.

It took some years to decide. Now it is fixed: One mail per day at maximum is allowed since November 2008 for James Wyly.

 Maybe in a more relaxed mood this too will change and pass.

The idea of finding friends online is fading away. Everybody tries to preach and to teach.
Nobody listens to anything else than his/her own egoistical mind.
OZAY was shouting until he has finished his book. Then OZAY finished his self advertisement.
Valerie, Hans and Eric enjoy in GuruRating, where Sarlo censors my spam.
Zora finds Indian friends on Orkut for her Asian journeys.

So this spam of mine entertains myself, when rain drops of sharing need to be send into the ocean of nowhere. 
It is just nothing, life is just nothing like a trace in the sand.

Life feels like a robotically survival machine. Seldom some drops of smile oil the rotten mechanism.
Only one final point is absoluty sure: death!