Monday, March 11, 2019
diary note, reflection and reaction, separation and attitude
she wrote that she knows how i feel
and that i do not have the imagination to know how and what she feels.
both is untrue,
a simplified way to deal with the complexity and essence of other humans.
i don't give the easy way out. my way has not been easy.
so.
i am glad i left this circle of reductive analytic views,
play instead of honest answers
and care felt but not given.
maybe empathy is a gift, maybe it can be learned. i don't worry now.
i am glad i am out of my instinctive reactions, my hope, my illusion , my fight.
i know nothing is meant a bad way, just: i am out.
nobody needs this, a game to lead across an abyss, a deep inner struggle.
i wouldn't want to say i understand her.
and more so, i am way out of wanting to understand.
explanations are no use anyway, i don't need my nor her exculpations.
nobody is guilty. nobody is less than another,
nobody is superior,
in the end all what counts is fairly ineffable,
but it is not words.
and we always come back to one's very own meaning
and need and feeling.
how could anybody take it away?
how could anybody tell me it is 'just' my understanding of meaning.
no. it is mine.
when needs be: be hard as a doornail, be stubborn, go through the wall.
this is what walls are there for.
life is not meant as a prison.
for none of us.
and nothing is so separate as it may look...
none of us is so totally independent.
no being is on this earth.
this is freedom, to see and to feel this.
i doubt that there is so much other freedom than attitude.
and that i do not have the imagination to know how and what she feels.
both is untrue,
a simplified way to deal with the complexity and essence of other humans.
i don't give the easy way out. my way has not been easy.
so.
i am glad i left this circle of reductive analytic views,
play instead of honest answers
and care felt but not given.
maybe empathy is a gift, maybe it can be learned. i don't worry now.
i am glad i am out of my instinctive reactions, my hope, my illusion , my fight.
i know nothing is meant a bad way, just: i am out.
nobody needs this, a game to lead across an abyss, a deep inner struggle.
i wouldn't want to say i understand her.
and more so, i am way out of wanting to understand.
explanations are no use anyway, i don't need my nor her exculpations.
nobody is guilty. nobody is less than another,
nobody is superior,
in the end all what counts is fairly ineffable,
but it is not words.
and we always come back to one's very own meaning
and need and feeling.
how could anybody take it away?
how could anybody tell me it is 'just' my understanding of meaning.
no. it is mine.
when needs be: be hard as a doornail, be stubborn, go through the wall.
this is what walls are there for.
life is not meant as a prison.
for none of us.
and nothing is so separate as it may look...
none of us is so totally independent.
no being is on this earth.
this is freedom, to see and to feel this.
i doubt that there is so much other freedom than attitude.
strange bed for pilgrims, diary note
i woke in a strange bed and in a strange person, i woke at night like a pilgrim.
by now i know that depression is more important than other persons, it lets only pets slip through. it is more important than anybody or anything else, it takes all space, and it pulls all down to a ‚just' this or that.
not that i am depressed, but haven given my presence and companionship and me. i know. i have been too near and too involved.
maybe i needed to suffer just this more. why i do not know. maybe i had a task to take on as burden.
i don't know.
i left before i got sucked into the hole, before i could get finally absorbed by consequences of indecision. i accepted to be powerless and found life. mine.
because i am not powerless and because i am not ‚just' me.
only words are just words - but they can kill and comfort and clear and help to find release.
without any intention and without a true meaning in a shared context they are very empty, without hope, without faith: letters.
when the sound of a voice has faded- the person has gone.
when no response reaches and when silence is pre-dominant as answer: the person will go , one of them will.because non-answering is like a lie, and post-postponement means indifference.
so or not so.
i woke in a strange bed and in a strange person.
at my age it is a huge freedom to be a stranger.
loss is a key turned, a lock opened.
i can start again.
Von meinem iPhone gesendet
by now i know that depression is more important than other persons, it lets only pets slip through. it is more important than anybody or anything else, it takes all space, and it pulls all down to a ‚just' this or that.
not that i am depressed, but haven given my presence and companionship and me. i know. i have been too near and too involved.
maybe i needed to suffer just this more. why i do not know. maybe i had a task to take on as burden.
i don't know.
i left before i got sucked into the hole, before i could get finally absorbed by consequences of indecision. i accepted to be powerless and found life. mine.
because i am not powerless and because i am not ‚just' me.
only words are just words - but they can kill and comfort and clear and help to find release.
without any intention and without a true meaning in a shared context they are very empty, without hope, without faith: letters.
when the sound of a voice has faded- the person has gone.
when no response reaches and when silence is pre-dominant as answer: the person will go , one of them will.because non-answering is like a lie, and post-postponement means indifference.
so or not so.
i woke in a strange bed and in a strange person.
at my age it is a huge freedom to be a stranger.
loss is a key turned, a lock opened.
i can start again.
Von meinem iPhone gesendet
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