“We have to create culture, don’t watch TV, don’t read magazines, don’t even listen to NPR. Create your own roadshow. The nexus of space and time where you are now is the most immediate sector of your universe, and if you’re worrying about Michael Jackson or Bill Clinton or somebody else, then you are disempowered, you’re giving it all away to icons, icons which are maintained by an electronic media so that you want to dress like X or have lips like Y.
This is shit-brained, this kind of thinking. That is all cultural diversion, and what is real is you and your friends and your associations, your highs, your orgasms, your hopes, your plans, your fears. And we are told ‘no’, we’re unimportant, we’re peripheral. ‘Get a degree, get a job, get a this, get a that.’ And then you’re a player, you don’t want to even play in that game. You want to reclaim your mind and get it out of the hands of the cultural engineers who want to turn you into a half-baked moron consuming all this trash that’s being manufactured out of the bones of a dying world” – Terrance McKenna
Much to my surprise, and perhaps yours, there is a museum in Zagreb, Croatia that is dedicated solely to broken relationships. Yes, you read that correctly, dedicated solely to broken relationships! When I first heard about it I felt obligated to actually find out just what in the world it was and why anyone would devote an entire museum to the often-tragic experience of having a relationships dissolve, and usually in not too wonderful ways.
As I entered the foyer, I found myself surrounded mostly by young people. Almost no one was over the age of 40. The main viewing room that held the various displays was noticeably still and silent, as each person seemed caught in their own private internal world. It appeared that what ever it was they were reading was so captivating, so engrossing that it left them in a state of deep hypnosis. Like wooden horses on a merry-go-round, they circumambulated the room, exhibit by exhibit, in a soundless parade of rapt attention.
I began to read the individual stories that were posted, stories that were accompanied by an object or two that had held deep meaning for the author, and found myself sensing a profound human drama. Some were sad, some whimsical and light, but all telling of the pain and confusion of separation and heartbreak.
What was most amazing was that the viewers appeared to resonate with each of the sagas playing out on the stark walls of the hall. It was as though the story of one was the story of all. At that point, the museum evolved into an integrative art project where the artist and the audience became the art. The viewer and the viewed melted into oneness of experience––a spiritual heart bonding.
In my next blog, I will begin to post the various writings from the museum that so deeply moved the audience and held them transfixed in time and space. With those posts you will see how Harmonology can help recognize and offer solutions that may have prevented the emotional breakup of those relationships.