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I recently thought of Schmiedmatzengirgl.
The Schmiedmatzengirgl lived in the Fichtelgebirge around 1800 in a rock cave that I often visited with my dog as a teenager when I didn't feel like doing homework.
The Bavarian-Prussian border ran not far from the cave 200 years ago.
Girgl is said to have been quick-tempered and very muscular.
As a wood and stone cutter, he lived in a village on the Bavarian side.
But one day he caught his lover there with a border guard.
Girgl killed him, then fled to the Hohe Mätze mountain, in Prussian territory, and holed up in the cave.
For seven years.
Summer.
Winter.
Day.
Night.
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Unfortunately, he did not write down what the forest and the isolation “did to him”, as one would say today.
He will also have refrained from composing or even singing songs.
Much more likely, his stomach growled very often.
But who knows, maybe, with a shaggy beard, he also fantasized about travel through space and time after gently enjoying toxic mushrooms, even dreamed of a shadow cinema on granite and growled blueberries.
We've all been crouching in our comparatively comfortable caves for almost a year, and those who can no longer stand it in front of the flat screen TV go into the forest.
It is now sometimes difficult to keep the minimum distance from other people.
The Berlin Grunewald in Corona times
Source: Getty Images
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"Stress in the forest" was the headline of the "Nürnberger Nachrichten" recently: 20 to 30 percent more people than usual are currently out and about in the local forest, the paper quotes the chairman of a regional conservation community.
The hunters complain that the game is scared.
The new tree bliss is now being reflected more and more clearly in streamable art.
Marcus H. Rosenmüller's documentary film "Dreiviertelblut - Weltraumtouristen" about the Upper Bavarian band, for example (available on DVD from February 25), was made before Corona, portrayed with "Dreiviertelblut" singer Sebastian "Wastl" Horn but the prototype of the thoughtful newcomer Waldschrats with a tendency to space.
"Dreiviertelblut" sings
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"I am firmly convinced that all art already exists," says Horn as he wanders through the wintry black and white of the spruce darkness.
You just have to "suck up" this floating art, and depending on "how well your radio is tuned, the better you can receive it."
And my radio is best placed out there ”.
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Obviously, the new forest men are concerned with getting rusted or bent antennas back on.
It is the sensitive, not the Girgls, who conquer old macho terrain in the forest.
Dagobert is "The Hunter"
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The musician Dagobert, who actually lives in Berlin and whose real name is Lukas Jäger, has just released his new album "Jäger".
As such, he poses on the cover in the dark fir, where the alleged shotgun is just a branch.
The dark, minimalist songs were created after a long stay in the Swiss mountains, his old homeland.
In the video for “Jäger”, Dagobert walks in frock coat like Caspar David Friedrich's hiker over moss-covered slopes and sings dryly and gloomily: “Grandma is tooooot, grandpa is also tooooot / you drove ahead and we will follow”.
Sensitivity also means feeling the depths.
As in the morbid minor ballad “In the forest”: “Where the nights are dark / a ghost appears, everyone knows his name, but nobody speaks his name out loud / When he comes, your sacrificial table will be set up”.
But now please come back to Berlin as soon as possible, a music critic concluded his meeting with worry.
The loneliness of the forest is radically disturbed
In the Swedish series "Gösta" (ARD Mediathek), meanwhile, you can watch the title hero, a kind-hearted psychologist, as he initially lives alone and very happily in a house with an outdoor shower, surrounded by swamp and forest.
Until more and more forest loneliness seekers get on him there, to extend their art antennas and then to compose shockingly bad songs or to take nude selfies.
The patience with which one person endures others here is almost unbearable.
Bad things are looming: When will Gösta turn from a sheep into a wolf?
No matter how much Peter Wohlleben can imagine the trees as a loving community of sensitive root beings - the forest remains a place of ambivalence right now: staying in it is good or bad, depending on who does it, how and in what number.
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Last summer, a “ranger” who describes himself as an “outdoor freak in a life crisis” kept the German public in suspense after he disarmed several police officers and fled during an unauthorized stay in a hut.
Shortly afterwards, Wolfgang Büscher's book “Heimkehr” was published, for which the author had withdrawn for a few months in a hunting lodge legally made available by a young hereditary prince.
Büscher's work was enthusiastically reviewed by a group of distinguished literary critics.
The approximately 2500 police officers were less able to follow the stubbornly hiding "forest rambo" ("picture"), who had fed on berries and finally, hungry and dehydrated, let himself be caught in a bush.
Luck lies in limitation
Against the shack that the “three-quarter blood” singer Sebastian Horn visits in the film, the “Waldläufer” domicile was a palace.
The remains of a stove stand crooked under the rubble, the windows without panes.
When the bearded man walks through the woods, he finds the very small things and the very big answers.
“You don't really need more,” he says, looking down at four tiny mushroom heads at his feet, to a frog, to moss.
Everything there.
Horn, who studied biology, means this less in terms of nutritional physiology than in the sense of a spiritual and spiritual consumption.
The forest shows him how every living being can fill its space in the best possible way.
To be content.
Be satisfied.
"Dreiviertelblut" sings "What is left over"
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“Rosi” Rosenmüller and “Dreiviertelblut” ironize the luck of the restrictions with a paper mache rocket that lands next to the forest hut.
Guitarist and composer Gerd Baumann emerges from her in a space suit.
It is only from space that people tend to recognize how good it is down here.
But it also works without NASA: the view up to the treetops inevitably leads to the stars.
For the writer and ranger Jean Paul, who was born not far from the Girgl cave, there were therefore “three ways to become happier (not happy)”: The first one goes “up high”, “so far above the clouds of life” that one “throws the whole outer world with its wolf pits, ossuary and thunderstorm arresters can only be seen from afar under his feet like a shrunken kindergarten ”.
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The second way is similar to the opening credits of the RTL program “Ich bin ein Star ...”, when the camera falls from the Google Earth perspective into the jungle camp: “To just fall down into the garden and to settle down in a furrow so indigenous that when you look out of your warm lark's nest you don't see any wolf pits, ossuaries or poles, but only ears of wheat ”.
The third way is the “hardest and smartest”: namely “to switch with the other two”.
Rosenmüller even masters both perspectives simultaneously.
Once he made a giant snail crawl over a motorway bridge while the tiny cars whizzed under it.
“Mia san ned just mia”, Horn sings.
We are all on the move, we are flying at breakneck speed on the “blue stone” through space.
Queues at the Brocken in the Harz Mountains
Source: picture alliance / dpa
And then comes “Der Sturm”: The song was created “with the help of Pegida, Trump and other creative people,” says Gerd Baumann.
When the Wastl then starts to sing with his Leonard Cohen-soft consolation baritone, something is brewing audibly.
“And where do we hide”, he asks carefully in the chorus, “and where do we hide?
And where do I hide so that when it comes I can find you again? ”The cave in the forest, I thought that was a child of the border area many years ago, would be a good hiding place in case rough times should come again.
Meanwhile I think: There would be too much going on for me.
In any case, the Schmiedmatzengirgl couldn't stand it any longer in his cave, and so he secretly returned to the village at night.
Someone there then whistled him for a generous bounty.
He was executed shortly afterwards.
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The German forest will probably no longer find peace that quickly in front of all the home office refugees.
Or to put it another way: we and he have not been so close for a long time, couch potatoes are drawn into the woods, and the wood pushes into the rooms.
Wood instrument makers are currently recording good sales, with guitars in particular.
So maybe there will be a few more sensitive Wald albums.
In view of the ongoing lack of support from artists, a change in diet based on berries and roots seems at least worth considering.
It doesn't have to be seven years.