Think of the Future
Text: Imre Makovecz
„If I had to or if I should think of the future, my elementary sense of reality suggests that I should do it so that I test my thoughts by personal death.
The thought passing the test is the one surviving the certainty that my thoughts, my experiences and everything that I see, everything that I loved and whatever I was alienated from vanishes into nothingness or at least returns to an intelligence believed to be universal and not traceable for the persona.
This test shall be more difficult if I do not think of a person but of the Hungarian people in the Carpathian basin. It shall be more difficult because it is not my personal death that I have to oppose with my people but the archetype living in my body and soul against my people.
The deep currents of evolution are filtered through an emotion which is inaccessible for me but which is still close to me – it gives shape and form and demonic powers to my existence. This is Hungarian. I am living in its light, I am speaking its language, I can see its place on the War Path, I can hear its messages from prehistoric times and I understand it. Its future is the future of mankind. I cannot see the beginning of its past nor the end of its future. It exists.
The world which covers me like the skin of the onion opens up layer by layer. I am standing on the border of the world as a temporary point of inflection anywhere in the place of fractals as the window of creation. It is a window that no one looks through – the window itself looks in and out, acknowledging that the eye which could see through it is an unknown one.
The chance of seeing the future of the nation is not within the sphere of operation of the persona.
Every rhetorical device, every kind of 19th century liberalism or even socialism, every ethical, spiritual, political form of behaviour that is recommended to others is empty. They are to be abandoned onto the exterior darkness.
I shall die, but the nation lives in me today, and the future of the archangels is unknown to me.”
Imre Makovecz: Writings, 1989