dearest!
i have been very absent from all, especially from this earth. if have not responded to your mails and messages is because there was nowhere where i could begin. i do not understand the process which i am going through these days, it is, at best, very odd.
i have tried calling you on a couple of occasions, either you are not home, or you are busy.
and then, if there is a name to the process that i am going through, it is surrender, but surrender at a level like i have not known before, nor that i could imagine. somehow it is as though my life is disappearing and i exist somewhere and somehow just serving the muses that pass through me. they write, i am just the instrument. i read the stuff that i write, and i wonder how i could write something like that. sometimes it flows, it is then quiet, and it feels like a drug. on a good day i do not know if i am going insane, totally insane, and ready for the clinic or if actually i am fulfilling my life's dream. frankly i do not even care to know which one, it does not make a difference as far i am concerned. this feels like drugs, or what i imagine that being on drugs is like.
there are no crazy and wild adventures in my life, although there are surprises almost each day.
i have my moments when i wish i was more of a functioning machine, and much less the possessed poet that i feel like i am turning... it is good to feel, to have feelings, to be sensitive, but then i have my days, when it all seems much too much... and i could do with a bit more numbness. wide awake at 3 am, has all of a sudden a totally different new meaning. i am ready to curse all arts, all muses, all inspiration. i am ready to curse it and i am ready to embrace it fully, with all of me. what ever me is, it wants to surrender. i am tired of fighting, i am tired of surrendering, i give up, i got to write. if i don't, i am deader than dead.
i think i embarked on this journey about 12 years ago, although i did not realise it then. yesterday, per chance, i sat next to somebody who remembered me from that time. all i remember of the time when i returned to berne after ithaca is one word that has rang inside my head ever since. if there is one word that has lead my life since then, it is that one. why is it that when i have questions about myself, the universe turns around, and it gives me the answers? yesterday was insignificant, and yesterday chanced my perception of what i thought was real. clearly i do not have a clue. i have been here before, and each time i return to this point, it is revelation time, like i had never been here before. for years i struggle, i fight, except that i never quite know what it is, i have a vague idea of the journey, still there is no goal, it is the journey that is important or so it seems.
right now, even my body tells me that all is changing. sometimes i wish that this body and this mind would divorce and give each other a truce, but they seem to not be that far. i am the spectator in this life of mind and body experiencing what being human could be about. i feel that i do not exist, that my will has no consequence, and that somehow, it is those ephemeral dreams that propel me, not automatically, not routinely, but effortlessly. i never thought that this would happen. i do not know what it is. perhaps this is sheer madness. and madness i welcome in this life.
love,
yours to eternity and back again
