[Journal] Questioning Me
No… Why does this message must begin with a denial? It is because I grazed along that ocean found in the subconscious realm so many times and never touched it. Whenever I was there, the crowds got me in a tangle, so I turned aside from the ocean. And of course, this was the thing that I feared most. Perhaps that is why the crowds tortured me. Generally, the crowds involve only the cowards. Otherwise, while I was passing by a fallow halidom through the rain during a burial, I saw how the grave diggers threw a coffin into the freshly dug pit, having no care or concern. The coffin cover hurtled because of their throw and I saw the gallant dead head moving back and forth. Its expression seemed to rake me over the coals, like I was having a major fault. It was that facial expression which can be seen only for a moment. I woke up having the curse and the consciousness of guilt upon me.
I agree on the fact that we are living hard times but even so, I can start the revolution process, by summoning up the brave mooncalves. It’s time to grab up the hidden animal. This is what the accidental signs say. Or maybe not… Maybe I simply don’t understand them.
What is inside? It is the effect of some trifling pressures that humble the spirit. The purpose is contorted by the external conditions. But I thought that this kind of contortion is the poisonous fructification of the energies from inside that turned up ill. Or perhaps they were always ill. There is no inducement. Even the Matter asks me to set the fire alight. It appears that the grass is not greener on the other side. What should I use to make a fire? What has to be sacrificed?
What have I learned? What have I found? Oh! Anima… I came to see you everywhere. I thank the skies and all elements for your spirit. It is just that I did not reach that deep point, but it is hopeful to find out that there are many things to do, in order to call forth this kind of other-worldly experience. This is enough to keep me alive.
Where did I come from? Where am I? For sure I passed through the place of hard-headedness. Now I am in the knotty kingdom and here is a vindicator who needs temperance, since his patronage seems to be so smothering. Do these things make sense? Everything can be different and so, it is the Matter again that asks for attention.
What can I create? Ah! You, small swords! Look how the water brought you ashore again. But can you believe this? You are here to be buried. I do not know what am I able to create, but for sure, there has to be something that covers up the fights, a world where everything grows and nothing is cut away.
What should I do more? I have to simplify things, by going point-blank. I have to open the mind by emphasizing the fact that „independence” means nothing but an illusion. How am I? Just like a spider with many legs, so many that it does not know how to use them for walking.
What is connected? Things that happen now will not exist anymore. The agent that holds people together is the figure of the anticlimax. It is not something bad as long as the illusiveness is defined by morbid hopes. Are all of them morbid?
Is there something to share? There are the stars gathered from a huge tree. In actual fact, these stars represent the ambrosia that brings the necessary mutation of this world. Who participates in this sharing process? If I tell you that I do not know, I would lie. There is someone here and nothing else matters… It was a joke. Everything matters but still, there is someone here.
Where is the sense of all these words? What does sense mean? Does this unableness to adapt have to do with a sense? Sense means trouble… I already feel like a rusted ship at the bottom of the ocean. Who needs an object like this? Some people who will know someday that somewhere, on the bottom of the ocean is an old ship. Their sense will not be ambiguous.
What do I represent? I am the one who learns, the one who has patience, the one who weens that the cause of the purpose and sense is not troublesome… I am the one who waits and endures and goes overboard. These are the limits of my world: learning and standing.
What do I want from you? I want to tell you something. I am your child who wants you to be good. And now what is left? Is there something that haunts the self-consciousness? It is me again, the one who kills the self and destroys the conventional dreams. And now, let us have a high old time. Besides the Mephistophelian moments, there is a single thing that makes me kill myself less… It is the point when I become the dictator.
Finally, what kind of phenomena is this? It is the occurrence of the rash thoughts. And I keep moving. It is a blissful insanity which is a bit confusing.