(no subject)
I'm coming back to my better self. It's an ascend this time, a good start. I think my big failure was that I tried to include my broken-ness into my life. The schizo isn't the broken-ness, because I can handle it. The broken-ness is anything I can't handle. To handle things is better than to destroy them. When I can handle something, it is a better position to reject it, to put it aside. I'm also feeling more sexy again, and with that, it is the same. It is easier to get relaxed with sexuality once you know that you can have it. I guess this is what certain people rely on all the time, the knowledge that they can have it. Married people should have it too, a resolved sexuality.
I have a mistress since some time. Albeit, a mistress who became mine because of my own wish. She's wiser than anyone else I ever met. She knows little of the story, but her knowledge of the things that have to do with the story, is vast indeed. And it's been the first time I found someone whose recognition of the vagaries of the intellect was so profound. Like sexuality, intellect pulls us. It creates obstacles, it focusses our way on a line of light. It really takes something else than the IQ to recognize the other things. I'm glad she taught me that man is a trinity of faith, intelligence and reason.
She's a bit sad that I wanted her to be my mistress. But what else could I do? She's married. My damn single-ness. And even here the dark stuff of my soul intruded. I dreamt about her after meeting her, and there she was a widow. I don't know if I can tell her, but I know I should, so I will.
I tried to tell her the story, but as soon as I had told her the basic elements she got angry. Tell me nothing of these people, she said, tell me nothing, I want to enjoy life. It's the same thing I experienced with some other people I have met, like Jelly. They don't really want to know what happened, it seems like they sense the shame of all of it. In the same time, this is like salvation to me, because the same people exempt me of the shame. Of the shame I didn't want to exempt myself. I wanted to somehow help these people, but they abused even this. They abused the means of reconciliation. They're so deep inside themselves, like little children with some childish fear. Like I came to be, for some years. An undealt with childish fear, trying to look for a recompense. It's too embarassing.
These new people, including my mistress, they remind to the man I unfortunately could only be for a short time, until now. Stray actors in the movie of time, hoping for a scene where they can feel human. Fortunate enough not to have to play villains, but sometimes having to love them in certain scenes, for the sake of a story. The whole movie? Will it be cynical? Will it have a happy end for everyone? I seem to have to be cynical, to bear the acting. I know my shame was the one of an actor. In some way, the "evil" people, those who put me to shame, they indentified themselves too much with the audience, and with the script writer. They have no life apart from entering the cinema, and leaving it, and writing that which only the actor brings ever to life. Experiences, conclusions, systematic work, that's them.
I'm glad I found my mistress and the other people. Slowly, in time, they replace the empty space in me that the people of the story left. They show me that my love is still there, if I can love them, not only the people of the story. The shame is that I still loved them for so long, the people of the story.
That's where I learned the value of certain aspects of nietzscheanian thought. The ability to deal with what comes up, whatever it is. Not to shun back and long for old times. The bright times of the old times, they were times when I could deal with what came up. And now, when I feel the same strength and vibrancy return to me that I had before the story emptied me of it, now I know that this is my reward, that the true self is my reward if I understand the right necessity. The right, the necessary, the fitting, the proper ... all not the right names. It's the will. Even when God gives me something great, it can only make me happy if I will to love it. In english it's so easy to see .. will means wanting, but also doing it, in future, God willing, as the humble say, and now, I will do it now.
I have a mistress since some time. Albeit, a mistress who became mine because of my own wish. She's wiser than anyone else I ever met. She knows little of the story, but her knowledge of the things that have to do with the story, is vast indeed. And it's been the first time I found someone whose recognition of the vagaries of the intellect was so profound. Like sexuality, intellect pulls us. It creates obstacles, it focusses our way on a line of light. It really takes something else than the IQ to recognize the other things. I'm glad she taught me that man is a trinity of faith, intelligence and reason.
She's a bit sad that I wanted her to be my mistress. But what else could I do? She's married. My damn single-ness. And even here the dark stuff of my soul intruded. I dreamt about her after meeting her, and there she was a widow. I don't know if I can tell her, but I know I should, so I will.
I tried to tell her the story, but as soon as I had told her the basic elements she got angry. Tell me nothing of these people, she said, tell me nothing, I want to enjoy life. It's the same thing I experienced with some other people I have met, like Jelly. They don't really want to know what happened, it seems like they sense the shame of all of it. In the same time, this is like salvation to me, because the same people exempt me of the shame. Of the shame I didn't want to exempt myself. I wanted to somehow help these people, but they abused even this. They abused the means of reconciliation. They're so deep inside themselves, like little children with some childish fear. Like I came to be, for some years. An undealt with childish fear, trying to look for a recompense. It's too embarassing.
These new people, including my mistress, they remind to the man I unfortunately could only be for a short time, until now. Stray actors in the movie of time, hoping for a scene where they can feel human. Fortunate enough not to have to play villains, but sometimes having to love them in certain scenes, for the sake of a story. The whole movie? Will it be cynical? Will it have a happy end for everyone? I seem to have to be cynical, to bear the acting. I know my shame was the one of an actor. In some way, the "evil" people, those who put me to shame, they indentified themselves too much with the audience, and with the script writer. They have no life apart from entering the cinema, and leaving it, and writing that which only the actor brings ever to life. Experiences, conclusions, systematic work, that's them.
I'm glad I found my mistress and the other people. Slowly, in time, they replace the empty space in me that the people of the story left. They show me that my love is still there, if I can love them, not only the people of the story. The shame is that I still loved them for so long, the people of the story.
That's where I learned the value of certain aspects of nietzscheanian thought. The ability to deal with what comes up, whatever it is. Not to shun back and long for old times. The bright times of the old times, they were times when I could deal with what came up. And now, when I feel the same strength and vibrancy return to me that I had before the story emptied me of it, now I know that this is my reward, that the true self is my reward if I understand the right necessity. The right, the necessary, the fitting, the proper ... all not the right names. It's the will. Even when God gives me something great, it can only make me happy if I will to love it. In english it's so easy to see .. will means wanting, but also doing it, in future, God willing, as the humble say, and now, I will do it now.