Tag Archives: Energy

Mind soup for lunch

On rainy days such as this one, I try to guess the substance our minds float in. Are part of. Much like a fish would define water.

Right now, many concepts are cluttered in my brain, because where do you start such an article? May I rely on previous texts for you to understand me? Is it important that this is understood? Can I not merely express the confusion that arises from this seemingly pointless act? And you: do you think linearly? In circles? Concentrically? Haphazardly?

Let’s assume that it is in the nature of the mind to explore itself. That I’m merely following my nature here. I am making an attempt to stretch my mind beyond what I’d call ‘me’, into something more meaningful. I am searching for the word to describe the dense, slowly revolving motion of magma inside the earth’s core, as it unfolds right here. Around my mind. Where does it end? Or, worse: where does it start? Is there a story about it that can make me feel good? Probably, but I’m not looking for that.

Even though I despise dualism as an even remotely accurate description of reality, I don’t mind to consider, sometimes that there are two main frameworks trough which us Westerners understand things.

On the one side, there is the atom, the brick, the ego. The little material pieces which we are all built from. The tangible, measurable, the word, the description, the thought. Little packages of energy that, together, form us, our societies and our minds. From this perspective, my mind is no more than a channeled sequence of individual thoughts, juxtaposed in a way that suggests they make sense.

Then there is the vision that we are not built of little bricks or energy packages,  but that we are more fluid, wave-like, spirit creatures. That we are the result of an amazingly complex resonance of invisible strings, shaking itself and its surroundings as a cosmic orchestra would. That we exist merely for as long as we remain in motion; moving, inspiring and amplifying others as much as ourselves. In that perspective, the very act of writing this down is just a vibration between my mind and this paper here, which now seems so close, and yet infinitely far away. Mind is then merely a frequency that resonates and adapts with those around. As such present, perhaps, in everything. Like light.

Be that as it may, both of these visions of the cosmos rely on the idea that we are ultimately made out of absolutely nothing. That would make the whole act of my mind asking itself what it is an illusion. Maya. This entire story would be non-existent, the room I’m in not here. Such thought raises the question: if all of this is an illusion, then what is an illusion? Except for all of this, of course. If everything is just vibration, why doesn’t it sometimes stop vibrating? If nothing holds all the pieces together, could it also stop doing so? How would that taste?

Here’s where it’s better to let go of these clearly narrow-minded theories altogether. We simply cannot prove the fact that we exist by proving the fact that we don’t exist, because that would mean we don’t exist. And clearly: we do. And we did, and we will. Yet it remains in my mind’s nature to wonder how far it can stretch.

If a black hole sucks up all light, would it we able to see itself in the mirror? It would be blinded by the light of the universe, shining upon it from all directions. Is there something my mind sucks up that prevents it from seeing itself? Or has there simply been no mirror around?

The rain has stopped. I can go out and about, to look for whatever it is I intend to find there. Vegan food. Setting steps on an earth that may or may not exist within and or outside of my mind. Or something else, that is. Or not.


The good, the bad and the energy

Let´s talk about energy for a bit. I mean the cultural phenomenon, the modern version of aether. In particular the concept of positive energy versus negative energy. And I mean it in contexts such as: ´this guy has such negative energy´, or ‘wow, you can really feel the positive energy here’. I have a bit of an objection against this distinction, particularly the negative pole, because it legitimizes judgmental beliefs. I think it motivates people to believe in their own projections, and by that stimulates the construction of their own mental cage.

The reason why I bring this up, is that the belief in spiritual energy is often seen as an emancipation from the religious dogmatic thought. Heaven and hell are let go because they are seen as a design to blind us from the truth. But if that truth is that you should follow positive energy and avoid negative energy so that you can reach nirvana and leave this semi-damned existence, then I don´t think much as changed.

What would you think if I told you that there is positive fire and negative fire? Good water and bad water? Sacred air and evil air? Perhaps you´d laugh, or perhaps you´d think I mean the level of pollution of a pond or a city street. Or maybe you´d say that it all depends on the intensity of these elements. Their pressure. I don´t think you would think that I mean that those elements are somehow negative.

Okay, so what if we assume that people who talk about negative energy mean to say that the energy is polluted? In many cases they probably do. My question would be: what is the energy polluted with?

It is an important one to answer, I think, because we´re talking about a medium here that, in my view, is easily coloured by our thoughts and emotions. That´s how a stressed person causes an emotional sandstorm just by walking into a room with people, or how a little kid can fill the hearts of many with delight. You would have to be quite trained or at least very sensitive to distinguish the level of pollutedness of the energy from the impact of your own emotionally charged perception on that energy.

I think that most often when people get negative vibes from someone, what they actually perceive is an incompatibility of their emotions with those of another person. I would explain this by differences in energy pressure. When an active person meets someone who´s tired for example, it can be quite irritating for both. That doesn´t mean that either one has negative energy. With a bit of willpower from both ends, such pressure differences can be easily overcome.

Energy could also be perceived as negative when it triggers a fear or discomfort. In my case that´s most often the fear of the unknown or the fear of being manipulated. It could also be the fear of not being accepted or the fear of pain or death. But being afraid of something doesn´t mean that this thing is harmful to you. And even if it is, harm will be healed.

What I guess I want to say is that classifying aspects of life as negative immediately makes you miss out. It is closing your own doors to life. I do believe that real, deep experiences of energy can be an intimate, revelatory thing with potential to give direction to life. By all means, attend to them as they come.

Calming Volcanoes

Rainbow Thunderheart or Bavado LeBeau is a Native American shaman from Wyoming, concerned with the healing of mother earth. He is part of the bird tribes and sound healers. His ancestors have asked him to teach the people of the world about the laws of nature. He has travelled to 28 American tribes to get to know them. His teachers educated him on how to maintain a good relationship with nature and its spiritual entities. He now acts as spiritual guardian of the Yellowstone Park and has travelled to the Netherlands to give teachings on his work. I have asked him for an interview and he agreed.
(Picture: Aljaz Gabersek)

Lian organises the session; it comes with several landscape healing rituals and a sweat lodge ceremony. She invited me to join diner. It’s hectic when I meet Bennie, right before we eat. He’s in blue with nice ornaments. Gentle, to the point. Diner is vegan, made of rice and local flowers. Before we eat, we hold our hands above the food to get rid of the bad energy. I feel like making lots of inappropriate comments, but manage to keep most of them in, where they light up a little flame that makes me smile. The companions smile back. An airy young blond man on my right explains that he is from a far away galaxy, and that he always purifies his food this way. He gives me some tips on how I can do the same. I try. It seems to be a big deal for him.

The college room is full. When no more people enter, the group gradually becomes silent in expectancy, until we cannot even hear whispering. “I’m not going to talk yet” says Lian. The humming starts again.

Bavado gets the stage. He stands legs wide and his voice is peaceful but loud. After introducing himself, he sings a song that he calls a message of his culture. He blows on a whistle. The high-pitched sound, he explains, scatters the negative energies in our minds. It’s beautiful. In a long presentation, he sketches a paradigm that is for a part new to me. Some words I find hard to digest, with others I feel as though I know exactly what he’s talking about. I’ll give you a short personal summary.

Central in Bavado’s vision is grandmother spider’s web. This is a pattern similar to that of the seeds in a sunflower. It is spread all over the world and the intersections of the lines have sacred sites, to wich everything is spiritually connected. Bavado says that the problems are global and they therefore concern us all.

The large-scale mining and transportation of gold, oil and minerals of the past century has put the weight points of the earth’s tectonic plates out of balance, comparable to removing a piece of a spin and sticking it to the other side. Consequently, the earth spins into a new equilibrium, which causes tsunamis, earthquakes and volcano eruptions. This process has been predicted by tribes from all over the world, who learned this information from inhabitants of different star systems. Some of these legends were passed from parent to child; others were carved as drawings on stones. It was predicted, for example that when the White Buffalo returns, the nations will stand together as brothers and sisters to heal the earth. The process goes hand in hand with the coming of a generation of children who are born spiritually awake. Today, Bavado says, people from all over the world are having vision dreams about volcano eruptions and they have the chance to do something about it. The global reset is going to happen with or without us, but we have the potential to smoothen it a little.

Rainbow Thunderheart has himself once dreamt about a super eruption of a volcano in Yellowstone. To prevent this, he has made a journey by 19 sacred natural sites surrounding Yellowstone in a wheel with a diameter of 1200 miles. On each of these sites, he taught volunteers how to engage in a healing ceremony with him. After he motivated all groups, they did a joint ceremony where every group was located on every sacred site to send their positive energy to the centre, the volcano itself, where he did his prayers. During this process, a hole opened in the ground that allowed steam to go out, relieving the pressure of the mountain. He says the ritual  also helped reduce the impacts of weather hazards in the area.

For the solutions, Bavado explains, it is important to understand that the elements, earth, wind, fire and water mimic our thoughts and our actions. Throughout the generations, atrocities such as rape and violence fell upon the heads of children. Parents had no control over it, the behaviour was embedded in the DNA. Today, we have the chance to heal this pain from our past. In this process we should be aware that we can not always sense the bad energy. We should therefore bless everything we take in: tap water, food, emotions, words, thoughts, you name it. In this process we should all have complete faith in love.

Someone in the public asks: what to do with the new forms of radiation such as Wifi or nuclear radiation? The answer for Bavado is simple: “I love the radiation, so I send my love to it. That is what shamans do. That is the essence of the power and it is true for everything: either you stop resisting, or you get ill.” Doubt can kill us.

Cleaning the thoughts
It is about ten O’clock at night when the presentation ends. We clean up and part ways. I go to the Lian’s house to meet Bavado for some questions. It is a walk through an alley with many trees. They calm my mind as I wonder how far I really go along in this. In the past years I have lived in the conviction that there is no such thing as bad energy, that it is all part of a huge energetic circle of life and death, but I sometimes felt this vision took the sting out of me. Bavado’s advice is to let go, that’s precizely what I stand for. But let go of what?

Part of the diner group is present in the living room where we have our chat. They are jolly, playful company. I ask Bavado how exactly he obtained his knowledge. He answers that it’s in the myths and the legends of his tribes. The way to understand it is to listen between the lines of the tales. “But if you listen to these tales, be careful with the thoughts that are already in your head, they may change the vision.” The basic teaching of the elders is that you should continuously put effort in keeping your thoughts clear and clean, just like you always have to clean up your house. A practical tip: replay your spoken words in your head. Look into them to see what you created.

I ask about the role of emotions. He says they are important. We are made out of twenty emotions, he explains, all ruled by the moon. Like the tides, there are higher emotions and lower ones. But we don’t usually notice our emotional cycles because we are distracted by the events in our lives. They’re easier to feel during sunrise. It is important to be with your emotions during prayer. Just like in a relationship: when you really love someone, you feel it in the words you speak. If you feel the love for the mother earth, she can hear you.

But what if you are divided between different thoughts or emotions? Then they work against each other and create a conflict. Bavado points his fingers to each other. A part of your energy can splinter off, leaving you more vulnerable for negative energies. It happens quite often in the case you follow a command of another person, and then blame that person for what you did. It does not work that way. You are the only one responsible for your actions.

Bavado distinguishes between different kinds of dreams. Some represent one of the four elements. If you get a dream like that, it tells you to go shape shift –impersonate – that element. Then there are vision dreams that give you a glimpse into the future. Bavado tells a most fascinating thing. Before he came into this life, he agreed to the events in it. Everything was shown to him like a movie in fast forward. He remembers being sent here to do what he is doing now.

So what are the most valuable lessons you learned from your elders? I ask to conclude. “Well, he says, once when I was young my girlfriend broke up with me. My grandma said: get over that girl, because there are plenty of fish in the sea. What she meant was that you should not get stuck onto things. My grandpa sat next to her. He said: that’s ill advice. If I would have taken it, you would now be alone”. He pauses for a while. “Yes and my grandpa also taught me to be gentle to girls when they are in their moon time. They could cause an earthquake five states wide…”

Couch at sunset

The doorbell makes me jump. I should lower the volume one day. One of those things I keep postponing. Standing up as slowly as I can helps me tame the excitement this bell forces upon me. It’s something I’m vaguely aware of. In the meantime, my steps show that somebody just made me rise out of my very comfortable chair. Well… as long as I feel in command… I open the door. It’s a girl. A woman. She is standing thirty-three centimetres from the threshold. She has natural red hair. Green eyes. Some freckles accentuate her cheeks. Pointy chin, elegant jaws. Fragile neck, I’m quite sure I could break it. A little hole between her collarbones. Her waist, her legs, her breasts. Oh, her breasts. I recognize her.

My smile reveals my teeth. They could cut her tender skin. I imagine drinking her blood. She smiles back. Her teeth could cut mine. There’s silence. It’s filled with charge. I look into her eyes. She pierces mine. Fearless.
“Hi.” she says.
“Hi.” I say.
“I’ve been travelling.” She says.
“Have you? Where’s your luggage?”
“Lost it in Paris…”
“Oh… How did you find me?”
“Yes… Intuition.”
“Why don’t you come in?” I ask, and step back into the house.
“Thanks.” There’s surprise in her tone. I remember Nurielle from a trip I once made on Hawaii. I had felt alone for years.
I invite her to go and sit outside in the sun. You can see it set over the fields behind my garden. They sowed wheat this year. A yellowish orange glow. She looks around.
“Sit down, if you want to”
Her light green dress looks gorgeous on the Bordeaux leather couch.
“How’ve you been?” I ask.
“Do you really want to know?” she doesn’t wait for my response “It was a terrible idea not to exchange contacts”
I agree, but I strongly disagree, but she’s completely right.
“Cheers! By the way”
The cling of our glasses is a great reason to look deep into her eyes.
“You said you lost your stuff?”
Another silence.
“I was robbed…”
“With a gun”
“Oh…” I feel sorry that I wasn’t there to help.
“He left me my documents. And my clothes”
“Beautiful dress, by the way… How do you feel now?”
“All I knew while it happened was that I needed to find you”
Just below my belly button starts a rushing force. It burns right through my heart, swishes in my ears and shoots upwards. My mind is turbid.
“Did you go to the police?”
“No” another rush “I don’t trust them”
The orange light of the sunset casts a sensual shade over her lips. The reflection in her eyes directs me to something inside her. It pulls my heart out through my throat. My stomach feels like a knot. I’m sure there are drops on my forehead that were not here before. I take a gulp of wine.
“How did you get here?”
“I asked some drivers. They were very kind.”
“I can’t believe you’re here…”
“Me neither” she smiles. “I never expected to see you again.” Another silence. “Not even when I rang this bell. There’s a different name on it. I just needed a place to sleep.”
“Why this door?”
“I know… Isn’t it scary?”
“Yes… But not at all… No…”

Orange turns into blood orange while the sun approaches the horizon. In the distance, we see a dragon roast an eagle in the air. He catches it before it hits the ground.
“Beautiful view.” She says
“Thanks. The wildlife here is great”
I take another good look at her waist. Then, following her curves, I look back up at her face. I see she has been following.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Don’t think so.” That smile again. More softly this time.
“Yes, let’s give that a try”
She moves a leg. My god.
I walk to the kitchen in a trance. I open the cupboard. It smokes at my fingers’ touch. Pot. Open. Bowl. Fork. Olives in bowl. Turn. Don’t faint. Back. When I walk outside, I gaze into the sun. Incredible. I fetch the little mahogany table, put it front of the couch and place the wine and the olives on it. I sit down, my knee near her hips, and lay my arm behind her. For a while, we slowly talk about our lives after we lost sight. My memories now find their way into her gratuitously listening ear. I listen to her stories and feel the purpose of our joint past loneliness in the second meeting of our worlds. I’m not even aware that my fingers are curling around the far side of her neck. They slowly follow her collarbone, gently reaching as far down as they can and back up. She talks about her days in the highlands of Nepal, where she was freezing in the cold dark sky. While a group of guides did everything they could to make her comfortable, she still had felt alone. Not here. Not now. We are not cold.

It is halfway down. The sky is purple. My fingers work their way into her hair. Twelve candles in the garden around us light up.
“Must be the heat”, she giggles. That sound in my heart makes me smile.
“Must be…” I answer. “It never happened before…”
“Good” she says, and she closes her eyes. “Reassuring…”
I follow the top ridge of her arm until my hand meets hers. I hold it from behind. They fit deliciously. Hers turns. A flickering light sparks off our touch. An electric current draws our other hands together. With a whoosh, we shoot apart.

For a few seconds we sit puzzled, looking at each other, each from one edge of the couch. The table is lying somewhere further away in the grass. One glass broke. Then, as if driven by a single force, we jump up and crash into each other.
“Ouch!” she laughs, holding her cheekbone with her fingertips “what was that?” We are both sitting on an edge again. While the sun sets, the candlelight intensifies. Their warmth radiates onto our skins. Her pupils light up dimly. She brings her left strap over her shoulder, and lets it slide down her arm. Must have felt nice. She bends forward and slowly crawls towards me. The couch sizzles everywhere she touches it. When she reaches me, a flaming ball flies right over her back. I try to catch it but it whirls around my hand and sinks into her lower back. I see her face relax. Her lips reach for mine. I put my hands upon her back and pull her closer till they touch. The couch catches fire.
“Don’t worry about it” I say, while I let the other strap down, and push her dress over her back in a massaging move.
“I didn’t”, she says, “not with you around”. It’s this melting cheesiness that I like about her. The flames reach out further while we kiss, and sparks shoot away from us. They take hold of the rack I built for grapes, last spring. I don’t care. All I want is to take off her bra and work my way there, perhaps with a little detour by her waist.

Another fireball shoots by. I manage to catch this one, and in one motion, deviate it straight into her heart. She answers with an emotional “ah”, followed by a deep breath. She looks at me with watery eyes, now just reflecting red light. She grabs my shoulders and pulls me up with force. We hear an explosion in the kitchen. The whole place must be burning now.
“I’m sorry about your oven, boy”. She whispers in my ear, and then breathes out from the depths of her soul.
“How do you know it was the oven?” I ask, while I rip something of hers in return.
“I don’t know”
“Well, just don’t expect me to make lasagna any day soon”.
“Okay, I won’t”
“And sorry about your undies”
“That’s all right. They would’ve burned anyway.”
She’s probably right, because my clothes have turned in little black flakes that are falling of my body. I move my hands up and down her thighs. Her kiss gets more intense, her hold more firm. As we get closer, it becomes harder and harder to tell whose limbs are whose.
“Is it really you?” I ask, while I look.
In the short silence that follows, I feel her heart leap.
“Yes. It’s me…”
The couch collapses and she slips right over me. “Uh”, is her soft exclaim. We sit for a while, amazed, until I give a pulse. She responds with a squeeze. We hear a wall break. Our alternated contractions ignite a flow of motion over our spines. Our spirits merge in a burning tide of sensations, alternating ecstasy with a sense of the common. The ashes around us whirl up, taking our minds along on a journey we don’t comprehend. All we hear is each others’ breath. All we see is our shared inner space. All we taste are samples of each others’ dreams. As we tremble, so does the smouldering lawn. I consider a break, she whispers “let’s go”. So we rise, along with the earth, fusing in the flame that haunted us so long. Out of depths we did not know flows a perpetuating burning force, consuming two in one.

The news of the volcanic eruption at the idyllic border of the coastal town was initially hard to digest. Speculations to the cause of it all invoked unprecedented creative thinking among surrounding survivors, but the issue was never satisfactorily solved. The final suggestion ever heard about this case was made by a little boy named Benny, just after his grandma had told him the story. He thought it might have been done by big ants.

Tantra for free

She’s laughing loudly. “Hahaha! Have you heard? Somebody did the Tantra workshop with his drum. Can you imagine? Wihihi.” I am looking at her while drying a cup behind the bar of the festival‘s tea house. I laugh inside.

The reason why I bring this up now, is that I saw an advertisement sticker saying:  “Affordable Tantra”. Such adds still make me mad. The sexual tantric experience has been an obsession for me after my nineteenth. I have spent time reading and practicing the techniques, only to find out that it was the obsession itself that stood in the way.

Tantra is not primarily about sex. It’s about the energy that can for example be awakened through sexual experiences. I believe it is about bringing this energy into connection with whatever you are doing. Tantra is guiding life force into love. It is spontaneity, playfulness and letting go. In its essence, tantra is harvesting without the kill in order for growth to go on. Spiritual sustainability if you will. With a touch of bliss.

I remember sitting in the little room with my drum, surrounded by about thirty couples arousing each other with their gentle touch and heavy breath. We had just learned gibberish and pressure points, and I was now establishing an energetic connection with my youngly made instrument. I have to admit, it was comical.

My point here is this: if you honestly explore tantra, it doesn’t matter if you’re in a workshop or not. It also doesn’t matter if you are part of some club or not. The tantric experience starts and ends in you. Once you have it going on, you’ll attract the like-minded with gentle urgency. Don’t worry: you’ll know when you do. Then you can share.

Just try it.

Mount of the Devil

Nijmegen, fall 2012

We’re here to open up to the sacred energies of the Duivelsberg. Like a demonstration. The man who guides us here shows more than just some energies. He reminds us, for example, that this place belonged to the Germans not so long ago. They didn’t care about it, it was a corner hidden somewhere on the West of their empire. They let it run wild. It was given to the Dutch after the war. They declared it protected.

“Somewhere on this hill, there is a power spot.” Our guide is facing us. ” Try to find out where it is”. Looking at the whitish glow straight uphill and the other glow somewhat to the left, I can tell that are two power spots here. A dream drops back into my mind.

I am standing somewhere in the forest. The guide has his eyes wide open. I say: “there is a power spot here as well.” This man tells me: “No. The power spot is over there”. He points over his back. The direction is two O’clock for me, five O’clock for him.

We all go and explore. I walk to the spot on the left. I’m not sure. Then to the place where he pointed in my dream. The other white glow. The my belly’s depths spontaneously suck up some air. I bring our guide back to the other spot. He tests the vibe with his dowsing rod. “I don’t detect anything” he says, and he loses his reliability in the process.

I seem to be the only one to notice the subtle movements his hands make while he demonstrates the power of the spots. It may well be my most annoying characteristic: whenever I see a magician, I attempt to follow the cards. It has led me to believe that most of what we see performed by human beings is distraction. Most people are so involved with their own ways that they seem to believe them themselves. Science, sales, religion, art, writing… Most of it is bluff. But in spite of this constant search for the real, I have thorough faith in the mystical.

“Look!” says a woman holding the stick. “It works with me!” I can also see her subtle movements. “Look! Mine turns too!” the ambiance seems competitive. It looks as though those who make the thing move receive more respect. Is it a joke? I can’t tell. But our guide takes note of it too. I try and hold my hand still. Nothing.

“The energy that comes out of the water, is that the same kind as a ley line?” He comes to stand next to me. “No. The river has many kinds of energy. There are plants and bugs and dragonflies… They all have their own…” there’s delight in his voice.

He has me back.

The Devil’s Mount

Berlin, summer 2012

I feel it the instant I walk through the door. Sound surrounds me. Every footstep, every click of my fingers, every single breath I take echoes around in the spherical shape I’m in. The sound fades with mathematical precision, until I make another move and ignite a new cascade. What my ears hear is all that matters.

Berlin’s great! After a two-week holiday at Zuzana’s place in Slovakia, we are now staying at Taicia’s. The city breathes art. Many squatted buildings are settlements for people to create. One solders a horse out of metal waste, others paint. We found a stage on the street, with music no one really liked but everyone appreciated, just because it’s Berlin. And then you have the remnants of the Wall, meandering through the city as a dried up river of torn emotions. It reminds us of our schizophrenic past.

We stumble upon a free exposition hidden somewhere deep inside a building near a bridge. The theme is resistance. The walls show pictures of demonstrations in all corners of the world this past year. There are pictures of the Arab spring, Occupy and Pussy Riot. Somewhere on a tile there’s a line that compels me. “The only real revolution is inner revolution”. I buy a book about the sacredness of trees.

It’s like finding yourself in a fully new game. I like to sing. I usually use my voice to reconnect. I now freely let sounds emerge from deep inside me. In my mind’s eye I see a stream of energy leaving through my mouth, far out into space. Alex Grey-like patterns. Everything is connected.

We arrived at the Teufelsberg after a half an hour walk through the woods. This building was built by the Americans to listen in on conversations by the USSR. It has been squatted and the walls have been adorned with amazing graffiti pictures. It has a tower with an enormous orb on top. I’m running around in it. Clicking, jumping and bungling around in euphoria.

There’s a window. Everything’s purplish red because the sun sets in the woods.

Addiction to the Real

I have a love-hate relationship with reality. Don’t get me wrong, I like reality, but I often think of it as being too addictive. I tend to blame myself for the things that go wrong and I usually explain them with the thought that I overly engaged in just a single aspect, without taking the whole into account. I narrow myself down too much.

If I feel tired for example, down and low on energy, I tell myself that this has to do with the coffee I drink, the beer of yesterday, or the orgasm I had earlier. Usually such self complaints come together with the notion that I did not enjoy these things enough, and am therefore in need for more. But this need gets harder to satisfy the more you do something. I have the same with losing time or working behind the computer or hunting for a job. And it’s not like the voice in my head always wants me to do these things, but they happen. Perhaps as a response to my own will to control the urge to act like an animal.

I have nothing against animals, but I did have my favourite cat castrated. It’s exactly that. I try to domesticize the human I encounter when I wake up in the morning. I try to adapt this human to the society I choose for it. This way, I can have it receive the soft comfort of the metropole. Yet the only way to do that is by not allowing it to hunt after it’s desires.

What you are witnessing here now, is an attempt to conquer an unexisting land. I am trying to belong to something I can never enter. The answer lies deeper than this, I know, but even if I am a calm person, I don’t always have the peace of mind to look. Distracted by a world which I know is illusory. A world to which even these words belong.