i got home this afternoon feeling on the edge of it all. i called it emotional pain. i turned on the computer and opened the instant messenger program, my faithful friend in montana was online. we started exchanging sentences, ping this, pong that... in the midst of such an attack of totally uninvited guests, emotions, it was good to get anchored in some exchange with a long time friend.
i wonder what is really going on. i had a busy weekend complete with intellectual debate, philosophical musings, the discovery of paul klee's paintings, my curiosity about his journals. all of sunday, i wondered how it is that it has taken me so long to discover this painter, and i was in awe as to how deeply his works can touch me. in part i know, i was not ready until now. there is nothing like out of town guests to discover the local treasures. indeed i am very fortunate.
monday was here before i knew it. i got up at 5, and i would have rather turned around and gone back to sleep. not an option, not today. tomorrow also promises to keep me busy. all i have is now.
while i did not feel like talking to my friend whom i have known since my teen years, and i was happy to just exchange deep, meaningful, pregnant, and loose sentences with him, i was delighted spending two hours talking with somebody whom i do not know, and could not see, on the phone. imagine that on the other side there is this melodious voice, and that there is nothing to lose and nothing to gain, nothing to distract me, just the words, the tone, the rhythm of the conversation... yet you have the possibility of writing a new story, a real one, not fiction. what do you do?
i wonder what it is that i am seeking? is it admiration? is it understanding? is it warmth? is it comfort? is it acknowledgment? is it affirmation? is it validation? am i even looking for something at all?
"At this point, it seems to me that the best one can ever do with another, is to experience the other. I certainly have no idea if I will ever know who i am, much less whom another might be. The experiencing, the interaction, the sharing, that is what makes life the wonderful wonder that it is."
once again i find myself right back in that immense plane of my struggles, that plane threatens to be an arid plain, for in this life of mine, in this being in love with it all, in this loving of existence, i am about to lose something familiarly stubborn, abusive and destructive, i am about to surrender to that which has frightened me for so long. first, there is all this emotional pain embracing me, and then i want to cry, just cry. i do not want to find myself in the arms of a muse and be held, i want to cry alone in my solitude, for alone i have been all of this life, alone i shall be of all of this life, yet nothing will be as it was before.
that two hour conversation that i so much wished for, with that specific person, was essential. when the phone rang i had some expectation of my brother being on the other side, and some hope of it being who it was. was that all that i wanted? i wanted to think out loud, i wanted to be liked, i wanted to be wanted, and i wanted nothing at all. i wanted to dare to just be me. when i hung up the phone, i was feeling raw, vulnerable and totally exposed. that is fine, that is how it is, that is me. it is complex, yet simple.
i found myself being confusing and imprecise, i found myself trying to interpret silence, and i found myself to be overwhelming, even to myself. i found myself vaulting over all preconceptions of what ought to be and should be, and i found myself being just me. oh... me.
i do not like emotional pain, yet, this is how this wound is going to heal, and how the broken bone is going to mend. somehow it reminds me of the process of cleaning out the cellar after years and years of neglect, it is a mess, there is nothing else to do other than put on protective gear, wear gloves and start cleaning. it is not a glamourous job, it is a necessary one.
oh... and you wanted to know how i am.
is it not that we are born complete?
Monday, 31 October 2005
Friday, 28 October 2005
the thing with the storyteller (first)
there was once upon a time a little girl who lived in a far, far away land. this girl was the most naive of all girls, like all girls are when they are seven years old, and live in the country. she was the kind of little girl who threw little chicks up in the air so that they could fly, the kind of little girl that planted coins, so that they could grow, the kind of little girl who did not know where babies came from. she was a little girl who liked to sit around the fireplace and listen to stories being told. she was a little girl who though all children were evil. she was screamed and yelled at by the grown ups for all the silly things she did. still, she liked the stories, she loved the stories.
then she learned to read, she learned to read very fast. she learned to read much faster than she learned to talk. she read all the books in the house, she went to the library and she read more books. history she could not understand, history made no sense. she preferred the stories, the fables, the tales, the fantastic, the what if... of it all, the wonder of abstraction, the passion of fantasy. that was her world.
she wanted to grow up, then she imagined that she would not be so bad. the grown-ups, oh those! they were perfect. they were always telling her all the things that she did wrong. then there was this thing with religion, catechism, and the whole shebang of what the church harbored besides pipe organs and the most uncomfortable seats. she went to the catechism and never understood a word of it, none of it made sense. she felt that she needed warmth and care, but that was nowhere. the grown ups were kind and generous and gave presents of food and clothes to the needy, but no, she had no right to any of it. she did not understand. the little girl like the sound of the pipe organs, she could listen, and listening she forgot.
she wanted to be a storyteller. the grown ups did not like storytellers, they liked doctors and lawyers, engineers and more doctors. if no storytelling, what about plowing the fields? she wanted to be a farmer. no. girls do not become farmers. she wanted to build houses, she wanted to draw, she wanted to paint. the grown ups were not listening. nobody listened to the little girl.
(to be continued)
then she learned to read, she learned to read very fast. she learned to read much faster than she learned to talk. she read all the books in the house, she went to the library and she read more books. history she could not understand, history made no sense. she preferred the stories, the fables, the tales, the fantastic, the what if... of it all, the wonder of abstraction, the passion of fantasy. that was her world.
she wanted to grow up, then she imagined that she would not be so bad. the grown-ups, oh those! they were perfect. they were always telling her all the things that she did wrong. then there was this thing with religion, catechism, and the whole shebang of what the church harbored besides pipe organs and the most uncomfortable seats. she went to the catechism and never understood a word of it, none of it made sense. she felt that she needed warmth and care, but that was nowhere. the grown ups were kind and generous and gave presents of food and clothes to the needy, but no, she had no right to any of it. she did not understand. the little girl like the sound of the pipe organs, she could listen, and listening she forgot.
she wanted to be a storyteller. the grown ups did not like storytellers, they liked doctors and lawyers, engineers and more doctors. if no storytelling, what about plowing the fields? she wanted to be a farmer. no. girls do not become farmers. she wanted to build houses, she wanted to draw, she wanted to paint. the grown ups were not listening. nobody listened to the little girl.
(to be continued)
Monday, 24 October 2005
how are you?
answers of the past 2 days:
to a new acquaintance:
How am I? Uhm... busy, which means nothing. In the middle of my life, which is normal. A bit overwhelmed, which is frustrating. I'm alive and kicking, or something along those lines.
to a good friend, accomplice in culinary arts and other decadent enterprises:
i was in italy friday and saturday, returned home last night past midnight. my southern border crossings are due to one fellow, whom i met not too long ago (during this whole crisis). last and not least, it was also in trying to sort through the feeling of "being in love" that added to my own clarity. it made me seek help sooner than i might otherwise have done. a good thing! there are indeed some childhood traumas that i either internalized or never dealt with, that have made me susceptible to abuse... and for a long time i have wondered why on earth i occasionally found myself in such situations.
tethering on the edge of disequilibrium in not that easy, but that is where my path has taken me. i do not know where i will emerge on the other side of this pass... i am confident that it will work out, somehow it always does, i am also very fortunate to be surrounded by very good friends. without a doubt, it is rather good to take stock and to realize that in spite of a few "bad" relationships, for the most part, i have been very fortunate and wise enough to have some great people around me. when i am down in the hole, it is not always easy to see this. what gets me out, is to start looking at the real accomplishments. my relationship with money and wealth is not quite so clear yet, but i suspect that this too will be resolved.
so, let's do lunch some time soon...
to a long time loyal friend:
indeed!
YES!
to a new acquaintance:
How am I? Uhm... busy, which means nothing. In the middle of my life, which is normal. A bit overwhelmed, which is frustrating. I'm alive and kicking, or something along those lines.
to a good friend, accomplice in culinary arts and other decadent enterprises:
i was in italy friday and saturday, returned home last night past midnight. my southern border crossings are due to one fellow, whom i met not too long ago (during this whole crisis). last and not least, it was also in trying to sort through the feeling of "being in love" that added to my own clarity. it made me seek help sooner than i might otherwise have done. a good thing! there are indeed some childhood traumas that i either internalized or never dealt with, that have made me susceptible to abuse... and for a long time i have wondered why on earth i occasionally found myself in such situations.
tethering on the edge of disequilibrium in not that easy, but that is where my path has taken me. i do not know where i will emerge on the other side of this pass... i am confident that it will work out, somehow it always does, i am also very fortunate to be surrounded by very good friends. without a doubt, it is rather good to take stock and to realize that in spite of a few "bad" relationships, for the most part, i have been very fortunate and wise enough to have some great people around me. when i am down in the hole, it is not always easy to see this. what gets me out, is to start looking at the real accomplishments. my relationship with money and wealth is not quite so clear yet, but i suspect that this too will be resolved.
so, let's do lunch some time soon...
to a long time loyal friend:
indeed!
YES!
the old mind-body problem
The Quest for Consciousness: is a book that i am reading right now. i picked it up while at the caltech campus more than one year ago, and am finally reading it.
it is a book along the lines of "where the rubber meets the road" or to use more conventional language, it is about the biology of consciousness. it is a tall order any day, and it is one of my long standing interests.
it is a book along the lines of "where the rubber meets the road" or to use more conventional language, it is about the biology of consciousness. it is a tall order any day, and it is one of my long standing interests.
Technorati Tags: consciousness
on the threshold
on the threshold
Originally uploaded by intutum.
there is silence
happiness is a foreign concept.
foreign, extraneously foreign.
how would i know that i am happy?
how would i know that i am pretty?
no. you are not the judge of my life.
i am.
i know peace.
i know war.
my war is my jihad, and my demons are in my psyche and the whores of my ego. i know my war, i know my life.
i know peace.
peace is silent.
peace is simple,
peace is patient,
peace is compassionate.
silence is not void,
silence is not empty,
silence is not meaningless.
silence has no meaning.
silence is absolute.
Thursday, 20 October 2005
the miracle
yesterday i had nothing more fascinating to contribute to the coffee round after aikido training than the fact that for the past week i have been greeted twice a day by a moth. each time i kill the moth, and subsequently question my buddhist attitude to life. i have gone through all in the kitchen, especially the cereals, and i saw no trace of such buggers.
now the moths do show up first in the office, but... i have no food stored in the office other than coffee, or so i have been thinking. then today invariably the evening moth came to greet me, and i decided to follow my sensei's advice during our coffee discussion. she suggested that this time i open the window and let the moth out. i questioned, seriously questioned my sanity, and i opened the window and let the moth out. then i closed the window, and looked to the counter where the coffee machine stands and it was then that i noticed that i had a basket with peanuts from last year still standing there. i inspected said peanuts and their shells, and there i found my culprit!
uhm, i guess a buddhist attitude does work in getting rid of food moths. i just had no idea.
now the moths do show up first in the office, but... i have no food stored in the office other than coffee, or so i have been thinking. then today invariably the evening moth came to greet me, and i decided to follow my sensei's advice during our coffee discussion. she suggested that this time i open the window and let the moth out. i questioned, seriously questioned my sanity, and i opened the window and let the moth out. then i closed the window, and looked to the counter where the coffee machine stands and it was then that i noticed that i had a basket with peanuts from last year still standing there. i inspected said peanuts and their shells, and there i found my culprit!
uhm, i guess a buddhist attitude does work in getting rid of food moths. i just had no idea.
Sunday, 16 October 2005
another hill...
Tri-mantra (to be hissed or groaned at any unfriendly hill)
In my world,
The water is cold,
The wind is hard,
And the road never ends.
In my world,
There are no losers.
Only competitors
still on their way,
And spectators
waiting to be inspired.
In my world,
Victory is not weighed in gold,
But in determination and courage.
In my world,
There are no boundaries,
No limits,
There is no end.
Every day is the last day of my life,
And the first.
In my world,
The word "can't" does not exist,
And nothing is impossible.
by Olivier Blanchard
Greenville, SC
In my world,
The water is cold,
The wind is hard,
And the road never ends.
In my world,
There are no losers.
Only competitors
still on their way,
And spectators
waiting to be inspired.
In my world,
Victory is not weighed in gold,
But in determination and courage.
In my world,
There are no boundaries,
No limits,
There is no end.
Every day is the last day of my life,
And the first.
In my world,
The word "can't" does not exist,
And nothing is impossible.
by Olivier Blanchard
Greenville, SC
Saturday, 15 October 2005
change happening: it is like this...
listening to patricia kaas puts me right back in the alsace, and that is one piece of earth with a very old and long history for me. every now and then during the past twenty years i find myself returning to that place, that very special place. you got it, the present story has to do with the alsace in some tangential way. first it has to do with story telling, and it has to do with choice.
i had a day of rest. had one long long call with my brother, he needed to talk to me, i needed to talk to him. we talked about psychotherapy, abuse, suicide, life, physics, love, not necessarily in that order. the conversation went for over an hour, if not two, i did lose track of time. by the time i got off the phone it was 11 in the morning. although i got up at 5, there was not much that got done, at least none of what i thought that i needed or wanted to do. the conversation exhausted me somehow, i laid down on the couch in my office, and took a nap. it was past 3 in the afternoon when i woke up. gloria! i must be getting back to being normal me, my sleep cycles are back to 4 hours.
in the midst of all of this, i feel change happening, i think of my angels, my muses, my loves, my passions. i think that today, in all the confusion of doing nothing, i did not do zazen, and that tomorrow is another day.
somebody asked me the other day about my believes? what do i believe in?
i gave him one doubtful side glance, and asked what he understood by belief.
belief is a mental action, condition, or habit, of trusting to or confiding in a person or thing, at least according to the oxford english dictionary. while i am quite ignorant of the bible's detailed contents, in my own bias, i also consider it factually incorrect, while the dictionary is my daily companion and servant, it is also my best friend. frankly i do not know what i believe in. to believe is one powerful instrument, and i prefer to not have it permanently pre-programmed on auto-pilot, i want all the choice in the world about what i believe in. i know that no other mental action is more powerful than belief.
strangely enough my ethics reference book sends me to religion when i look up belief (german, glauben). this is slightly annoying if i forget the true origins of the word, which are unclear, it is either the latin relegere (re-read) or religate (to bind) meaning that its meaning has changed with the contextual cultural bias of the times. this is change. of the many things that surprise me, what surprises me the most, is that i would be witnessing a time when religious fanatics can terrorize the world over with what are rather dark ages, ignorant, and unenlightened interpretations of human destiny or what human rights might be. granted that human rights is a modern day invention, but when we proudly tout iPod's and mobile phones, what is wrong with intellectual innovations such as human rights?
still, you read the charter, you look at what is happening in the world, you look how powerful nations brutalize weaker ones, and you wonder if any of these people ever bothered to read anything like the charter of fundamental rights of the european union?
what does this have to do with me and my personal belief?
one gazillion of a lot!
am i going to leave you there in suspense, and have you wander for a while, you may also wonder, at what it is that i am pointing you to, and let you just struggle? yes. this blog here, once more, is about my own journey, my own self-discovery, my own jihad, my samsara, my life, and i am far from having it all figured out.
so, i gave one doubtful side glance...
and the man in black asked me what it was that i needed to be able to do what i want to do.
i had a day of rest. had one long long call with my brother, he needed to talk to me, i needed to talk to him. we talked about psychotherapy, abuse, suicide, life, physics, love, not necessarily in that order. the conversation went for over an hour, if not two, i did lose track of time. by the time i got off the phone it was 11 in the morning. although i got up at 5, there was not much that got done, at least none of what i thought that i needed or wanted to do. the conversation exhausted me somehow, i laid down on the couch in my office, and took a nap. it was past 3 in the afternoon when i woke up. gloria! i must be getting back to being normal me, my sleep cycles are back to 4 hours.
in the midst of all of this, i feel change happening, i think of my angels, my muses, my loves, my passions. i think that today, in all the confusion of doing nothing, i did not do zazen, and that tomorrow is another day.
somebody asked me the other day about my believes? what do i believe in?
i gave him one doubtful side glance, and asked what he understood by belief.
belief is a mental action, condition, or habit, of trusting to or confiding in a person or thing, at least according to the oxford english dictionary. while i am quite ignorant of the bible's detailed contents, in my own bias, i also consider it factually incorrect, while the dictionary is my daily companion and servant, it is also my best friend. frankly i do not know what i believe in. to believe is one powerful instrument, and i prefer to not have it permanently pre-programmed on auto-pilot, i want all the choice in the world about what i believe in. i know that no other mental action is more powerful than belief.
strangely enough my ethics reference book sends me to religion when i look up belief (german, glauben). this is slightly annoying if i forget the true origins of the word, which are unclear, it is either the latin relegere (re-read) or religate (to bind) meaning that its meaning has changed with the contextual cultural bias of the times. this is change. of the many things that surprise me, what surprises me the most, is that i would be witnessing a time when religious fanatics can terrorize the world over with what are rather dark ages, ignorant, and unenlightened interpretations of human destiny or what human rights might be. granted that human rights is a modern day invention, but when we proudly tout iPod's and mobile phones, what is wrong with intellectual innovations such as human rights?
still, you read the charter, you look at what is happening in the world, you look how powerful nations brutalize weaker ones, and you wonder if any of these people ever bothered to read anything like the charter of fundamental rights of the european union?
what does this have to do with me and my personal belief?
one gazillion of a lot!
am i going to leave you there in suspense, and have you wander for a while, you may also wonder, at what it is that i am pointing you to, and let you just struggle? yes. this blog here, once more, is about my own journey, my own self-discovery, my own jihad, my samsara, my life, and i am far from having it all figured out.
so, i gave one doubtful side glance...
and the man in black asked me what it was that i needed to be able to do what i want to do.
Technorati Tags: angel, archives, floue, fluage, muse, strangers, strasbourg
Friday, 14 October 2005
nobel and i
i give up! here is how i am: i am delighted about this year's nobel prizes.
every year around this time, announcing the coming of the much dreaded christian holiday season, the names of this year's nobel prizes winners are made public. somebody pointed out to me recently that i actually know a few of the laureates in both the post and pre award phases of their lives. i never gave this much thought, but indeed that is a fact that even i can not banter out of existence. it is not like it all has gone unnoticed by good old absent minded me. i do remember one occasion when i actually caught myself in a discussion with one of these good persons, and realized that i was explaining to him something that he did not know, or had not yet thought of. shortly thereafter i remember thinking to myself that i must have one hell of a lot of nerve to just not bow to his superior accomplishments and keep my big mouth shut. to be fair, i have to add that we were talking about my work, but then i was in my early thirties and a bit wet behind the ears. not that i am much wiser now, i just am at a different place.
why am i so thrilled about this year's nobel prizes? is it that i know two of the laureates? is it that i am delighted that one of my favorites, got it?
well, when it comes to the nobel prize, i have had a peculiar relationship to the whole enterprise. first, one of the business in my family is explosives, so clearly the man who created the foundation and the legacy of such a prestigious prize and i do have something in common, it is called dynamite. then there is my perception that at one of the places where i worked for a few years, that most of my colleagues were bent on getting one. so far two have, and neither of them was bent on it, they both loved and lived their discipline. so, yes, i am thrilled pink about seeing their life's love honoured.
second, i sometimes claim that i left the world of experimental physics because i just did not share my colleagues' ambitions of a nobel prize. there is some truth in that statement, and there is some funny logic in it too.
leaving experimental physics was perhaps my first act of rebellion against my parents. i was well over thirty, and i had yet to go through adolescence, i just had to start sometime.
by whatever interpretation mechanisms i had activated early in life, the impression that i got from my parents was that i was to achieve something great in the hard sciences, if i had declined to chose a profession that would make me rich, like medicine, engineering or law, then i better make it big in the hard sciences, something albeit esoteric, but considered serious. actually i was much more interested in architecture, agronomy, dance and sports but obviously i received no encouragement in that direction, and as a teen i was not into getting into conflicts, muss less with my parents. then in my early thirties i find myself in the ivory tower of academia, going through a five year long litigious divorce, raising a challenging boy, and i find out that for all the glamour and glory of it, that is not where i want to be. after the divorce, i was exhausted. at the time i expressed this exhaustion by saying that i wanted to be put in an envelope with no return address and be mailed to china. i left academia then, and i still love physics. it was in recalling the fond memories of a few discussions with one of this year's nobel laureates that i realized how much i had and do love physics. this is really important to me, and it surprises me that i had almost forgotten how much i do love physics.
i tend to think that the idea of the nobel prize in physics had been somehow instilled by my mother. it is perhaps no wonder that i projected that internalized extraneous and foreign to me idea onto my colleagues, like it is not surprising that i found joy and satisfaction in discussions with colleagues who shared in the love for the discipline, the curiosity for the wonders of matter, and the detachment from any form of acknowledgment or honours.
oh, i could go on an exhilarant random ode about my love for physics...
every year around this time, announcing the coming of the much dreaded christian holiday season, the names of this year's nobel prizes winners are made public. somebody pointed out to me recently that i actually know a few of the laureates in both the post and pre award phases of their lives. i never gave this much thought, but indeed that is a fact that even i can not banter out of existence. it is not like it all has gone unnoticed by good old absent minded me. i do remember one occasion when i actually caught myself in a discussion with one of these good persons, and realized that i was explaining to him something that he did not know, or had not yet thought of. shortly thereafter i remember thinking to myself that i must have one hell of a lot of nerve to just not bow to his superior accomplishments and keep my big mouth shut. to be fair, i have to add that we were talking about my work, but then i was in my early thirties and a bit wet behind the ears. not that i am much wiser now, i just am at a different place.
why am i so thrilled about this year's nobel prizes? is it that i know two of the laureates? is it that i am delighted that one of my favorites, got it?
well, when it comes to the nobel prize, i have had a peculiar relationship to the whole enterprise. first, one of the business in my family is explosives, so clearly the man who created the foundation and the legacy of such a prestigious prize and i do have something in common, it is called dynamite. then there is my perception that at one of the places where i worked for a few years, that most of my colleagues were bent on getting one. so far two have, and neither of them was bent on it, they both loved and lived their discipline. so, yes, i am thrilled pink about seeing their life's love honoured.
second, i sometimes claim that i left the world of experimental physics because i just did not share my colleagues' ambitions of a nobel prize. there is some truth in that statement, and there is some funny logic in it too.
leaving experimental physics was perhaps my first act of rebellion against my parents. i was well over thirty, and i had yet to go through adolescence, i just had to start sometime.
by whatever interpretation mechanisms i had activated early in life, the impression that i got from my parents was that i was to achieve something great in the hard sciences, if i had declined to chose a profession that would make me rich, like medicine, engineering or law, then i better make it big in the hard sciences, something albeit esoteric, but considered serious. actually i was much more interested in architecture, agronomy, dance and sports but obviously i received no encouragement in that direction, and as a teen i was not into getting into conflicts, muss less with my parents. then in my early thirties i find myself in the ivory tower of academia, going through a five year long litigious divorce, raising a challenging boy, and i find out that for all the glamour and glory of it, that is not where i want to be. after the divorce, i was exhausted. at the time i expressed this exhaustion by saying that i wanted to be put in an envelope with no return address and be mailed to china. i left academia then, and i still love physics. it was in recalling the fond memories of a few discussions with one of this year's nobel laureates that i realized how much i had and do love physics. this is really important to me, and it surprises me that i had almost forgotten how much i do love physics.
i tend to think that the idea of the nobel prize in physics had been somehow instilled by my mother. it is perhaps no wonder that i projected that internalized extraneous and foreign to me idea onto my colleagues, like it is not surprising that i found joy and satisfaction in discussions with colleagues who shared in the love for the discipline, the curiosity for the wonders of matter, and the detachment from any form of acknowledgment or honours.
oh, i could go on an exhilarant random ode about my love for physics...
Technorati Tags: fluage, focus, history, life, literature, nobel prizes, physics, reality, refections, success, survival, zoom
Wednesday, 12 October 2005
nursing egoism: facts, fiction and fallacy
why are we here?
i wish that i could tell you, and i also do not give a damn about the fact that i do not know and that i can neither give you an answer, nor know why i am here, much less why you are here.
once upon a time, in a far far away reality, a man told me that my prose is arrestingly seductive. i laughed, not in his face, but i laughed at what to me then seemed such plain and undecorated flattery. i have yet to discover a graceful way of dealing with compliments or flattery. last week i got an e-mail from a reader of this kitchen sink outpour, and it made me think that perhaps my prose does seduce. perhaps, perhaps it does.
if you asked me what i came into this world to do, i will tell you: i came to live out loud. (Emile Zola)
yes the story seduces, drama seduces, swift little pirouettes seduce... my whole fucking life seduces!
still this morning, this very morning, i woke up seeking something else. it is the month of ramadan, it is the fasting month of ramadan, and it is time to get back to what is essential, and to surrender to the human condition. what was i seeking this morning when i left the house before 8 on the way to a crucial appointment? (that was friday past, that was my therapy session)
ah! the emperor needs new rules, the newest is that what i write on my filofax gets done. the electronic diaries serve other purposes, the planning purposes, but the filofax is imperative. i love imperatives, and i love residing in them. within all this mumble-jumble it occurred to me that there is one great myth about instant gratification and that very myth is about to be assaulted by the emperor. (what worked on friday, did not work on monday. monday i woke up somewhere in the outskirts of strasbourg...)
but here it is how i am feeling today: after the morning meal, my stomach is full, so is my head... i am tired of feeling tired. i am tired of feeling tired and wanting to climb trees and walk on the walls. i am tired of procrastination, i am tired of good excuses. am i tired, or am i impatient?
what has struck me recently is that i am awfully impatient. i am impatient and i look calm, i move slowly... and other times i am faster than light. go figure.
life is as right as ever, it keeps me busy pursuing my two challenges, writing and starting up a new company. in addition i have another project called "nursing egoism" that also takes me off-line quite a bit, blogging is light.
these are times when i take retreat to my cave, some people call it depression, others the blues, and for some odd reason, i call it "my insignificant and meaningless life". so, what is it like, this exciting life of mine?
it has elements of getting up at 5 in the morning, of conference calls at 10 in the evening, of iaido practice on monday evenings, of therapy sessions on a wednesday afternoons, of daily long hours with the mac getting one word after another out, one letter at a time, making mind maps on large pieces of paper representing the story that i am writing, the services of the company, or the wonders of my own existence. then it also has elements of weekends in italy, germany, czech, england, france or portugal.
why? you want to know why?
i wish that i could tell you, and i also do not give a damn about the fact that i do not know and that i can neither give you an answer, nor know why i am here, much less why you are here.
once upon a time, in a far far away reality, a man told me that my prose is arrestingly seductive. i laughed, not in his face, but i laughed at what to me then seemed such plain and undecorated flattery. i have yet to discover a graceful way of dealing with compliments or flattery. last week i got an e-mail from a reader of this kitchen sink outpour, and it made me think that perhaps my prose does seduce. perhaps, perhaps it does.
if you asked me what i came into this world to do, i will tell you: i came to live out loud. (Emile Zola)
yes the story seduces, drama seduces, swift little pirouettes seduce... my whole fucking life seduces!
still this morning, this very morning, i woke up seeking something else. it is the month of ramadan, it is the fasting month of ramadan, and it is time to get back to what is essential, and to surrender to the human condition. what was i seeking this morning when i left the house before 8 on the way to a crucial appointment? (that was friday past, that was my therapy session)
ah! the emperor needs new rules, the newest is that what i write on my filofax gets done. the electronic diaries serve other purposes, the planning purposes, but the filofax is imperative. i love imperatives, and i love residing in them. within all this mumble-jumble it occurred to me that there is one great myth about instant gratification and that very myth is about to be assaulted by the emperor. (what worked on friday, did not work on monday. monday i woke up somewhere in the outskirts of strasbourg...)
but here it is how i am feeling today: after the morning meal, my stomach is full, so is my head... i am tired of feeling tired. i am tired of feeling tired and wanting to climb trees and walk on the walls. i am tired of procrastination, i am tired of good excuses. am i tired, or am i impatient?
what has struck me recently is that i am awfully impatient. i am impatient and i look calm, i move slowly... and other times i am faster than light. go figure.
life is as right as ever, it keeps me busy pursuing my two challenges, writing and starting up a new company. in addition i have another project called "nursing egoism" that also takes me off-line quite a bit, blogging is light.
these are times when i take retreat to my cave, some people call it depression, others the blues, and for some odd reason, i call it "my insignificant and meaningless life". so, what is it like, this exciting life of mine?
it has elements of getting up at 5 in the morning, of conference calls at 10 in the evening, of iaido practice on monday evenings, of therapy sessions on a wednesday afternoons, of daily long hours with the mac getting one word after another out, one letter at a time, making mind maps on large pieces of paper representing the story that i am writing, the services of the company, or the wonders of my own existence. then it also has elements of weekends in italy, germany, czech, england, france or portugal.
why? you want to know why?
Technorati Tags: fluage, ultruism, undecided, unedited, unfocus
Monday, 3 October 2005
it was in a tunnel
it was yesterday evening while driving through a freeway tunnel somewhere in northern italy that i summed up how i am doing these days: the next two months are critical. i seem to repeat myself again and again, but no matter where i am or how far i have come, the future remains just that, the future, all much too uncertain, yet the sun invariably rises the next day...
it could be that it is because i have one weekend behind me during which i felt, tasted, and drunk freedom. it could be because on friday afternoon a sense of serenity returned to me, and i had neither the impression of ever having lost it, nor of knowing where it returned from. all the same, and without attempting to make this logical, that sense of serenity was there on friday and during the weekend. it was as if time stood still, there was not a worry to be had by me or anybody. what is reality? what is illusion?
from a good old friend, one whom i have known since i was eighteen, i got a rather sweet e-mail this morning and he cited in it the lyrics of the song "nature boy" made popular by Nat King Cole:
There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he
And then one day
A magic day he passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return"
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return"
it was good to start the day by reading this, and it was good to hear my brother's voice.
from all the events of the past month, and the first few days of this one what remains is that good advice from the aikidoka who held me in her arms and pleaded that i let myself fall more gently. will i know to heed her advice?
it could be that it is because i have one weekend behind me during which i felt, tasted, and drunk freedom. it could be because on friday afternoon a sense of serenity returned to me, and i had neither the impression of ever having lost it, nor of knowing where it returned from. all the same, and without attempting to make this logical, that sense of serenity was there on friday and during the weekend. it was as if time stood still, there was not a worry to be had by me or anybody. what is reality? what is illusion?
from a good old friend, one whom i have known since i was eighteen, i got a rather sweet e-mail this morning and he cited in it the lyrics of the song "nature boy" made popular by Nat King Cole:
There was a boy
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he
And then one day
A magic day he passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return"
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return"
it was good to start the day by reading this, and it was good to hear my brother's voice.
from all the events of the past month, and the first few days of this one what remains is that good advice from the aikidoka who held me in her arms and pleaded that i let myself fall more gently. will i know to heed her advice?
Technorati Tags: fluage
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