bad dreams are temporary, diary note

i am in a beautiful place and feel happy to meet somebody important to me , important in a undefinable way, a way of heart and karma and beyond all reason and obvious purpose. this describes nothing but beauty, in all its asymmetry, terror and fascination. beauty does not come easily, it takes blood before it gives its peace.

i feel guilty about my terrible thoughts, helpless in a widening and narrowing space.

a bees swarm in my head.

noise, my voices talking incessantly, suppressed persons.

i didn't live in a good way so much. best i could do was to walk out of me and find to kindness more often. worst i could do to ignore me. it lead me to use frequently benzos to increase suppressive abilities, my needs and dreams working their own way underground beyond control and awareness. it is no good. i am getting old. formerly i had the energy to let transformation happen or at least unhappiness go into creativity in long walks and in long nights painting or writing. playfulness slowly disappears. i feel at times like somebody having waited too long for food in a restaurant. i feel full and an aversion to eat what i wanted. i don't know for sure if i want anything at all. meditation makes it no better, it is only time out just as work. at times all to come looks bleak, a waste land in which i must or must not ex-ist, alone. there is an overwhelming need for dys-function. and an immense wish to forget, all. too well i know it belongs to the stages of dying. 

and i am nobody when i am for and with myself. 

and will be no-body when i will be dead.

but then i can be so much alive, meet simple people to laugh or be curious about strangers and talk to them, open my mind and see and listen and ask.

but what do i feel once i come back into this me?

are my feelings true?

do i have faith and do i want to keep it?

can i feel the center of stillness?

is this universe a place good to me-after all i am part of it, the non-me behind the layers of the disturbed me. my body, my blood, my breath, my movements and maybe the deep and pure soul, undeniably interdependent parts of life and humanity. am i human just because i think? probably not. am i human when i am truly kind? does this define humanity in its best way?

can i be kind even if i am bad and weak too?

i know i am not alone in this struggle, trying to swim and to bridge the gaps with floating.

what do i do with the wish to sink? why..don't i?

hard to be kind when drowning.

so. swim a bit?

i didn't make all the waves.

they are coming and coming.

is there a shore to rest?

so, life is so rich and so poor,

all at the same time.

stop. stop. stop. retire.

pray and sleep.

find a straw next day.

live like a donkey or a goat.

small and slow is all what matters

and to move with the wind like

a bird. feed and tame the fire, this fire near going out, let it be warmth and light : without regret, anger, fear. good night.