The world leaves traces
The silhouette of a bird
Touching my blue-black reflection;
A winged cross, a ghost adrift
Towards the ochre light
Life is a potential always striving for fulfillment. I think we can learn a lot from this lesson. I think we are all full of potential, and even though we can’t control the atmosphere around us, we can work on developing and refining our potential, so that when the atmosphere change and circumstances are ideal we are ready to step forward and shine.
Don’t simplify me, don’t call me good or bad. Don’t tell me what I want or don’t want. Don’t tell me the difference between need and desire. You don’t know me. Know yourself and perhaps find me somewhere in that knowledge. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I am not you, what makes me cry might be what makes you laugh.
There are some things you might never understand about me, unless you try feeling your touch through my skin, seeing your expression through my eyes. You can wander like a whale through my red rivers and still not reach the ocean. Is this an obstacle to you? Are you an explorer or a homemaker?
Ordinary beauty is revealed in a mirrored lens; do you have one? Has your life obtained one for you? Are we not thoughts: uniquely ours, emotions: uniquely ours, dreams: uniquely ours, instincts: belonging to humanity, characteristics: belong to our ancestors, desires: belonging to evolution? All connected to, and reacting upon, every current moment spanning through life.
There is a current of time floating through me, I am on a lifelong date with history, composing music with my vibration upon history’s eternally drawn stings.
I am a complex, diverse and densely populated forest. I am not one story, but many. I can adjust to different situations using different skills and qualities, tune my own frequency to vibrate with the flow of different wavelengths. This is the beauty of being human.
I am not bound to a certain type of behavior, losing my way in situations where this behavior doesn’t work. At the same time…my unique constellation of emotions, thoughts and imagination makes me someone worth bringing to show and tell. The filters through which I see the world is not purchasable by anyone else. But I can try to show what I see when I look at the same horizon as you. How I color it, crop it or expand it. And I would be immensely interested for you to show me your vision.
Differences exist. We are not the same. But that is what makes art. I don’t want to see my own image reflected in you, I want to learn about different universes. I want to understand why you choose the colors you do. Whether they are blacks, blues or pinks. It doesn’t matter. For learning about you makes me wiser, lets me get a bit closer to the great mysteries: The hows and whys. And if am not here to explore those, why am I here at all?
We are not rivers crossing each other on the way to the ocean, we are forests: immense, rich, ever-changing, growing taller and wilder until we breach each other’s borders becoming one vast, mosaically beautiful and exotically diverse jungle.
I am balancing on the string separating night from day, like a line dancer maneuvering the horizon on my tippy toes. I cannot bury myself in the light to escape the shadows, nor can I hide in the shade to avoid the brightness of sunny days.
I am not a sinner choosing to do good nor am I a sufferer bent on numbing the pain with daydreams. I am not pure light unaffected by impermanence, nor am I an animated matter seeking pleasure. I am all of the above and neither of them.
Balance is accepting the fullness of my duality, embracing my complexity, living from and in all parts, not choosing away any.
For every death there is a birth. For every tear there is a smile. For every sin there is an act of kindness. For every autumn there is a spring.
The answer is to find something worth exploring in both, in all opposites. There is an encyclopedia of human complexity in every sin committed and there a thousand existential secrets revealed in every autumn.
I swim to sink and I sink to swim. In every contradiction there is creation. Surfaces are not to rise to, but to dive into, no matter the color of the ocean.