Meanderings

My thoughts, thoughts, please do not hinder me now! For I desire to know... more than you could tell me.

Lapsina, nuorempina, tullessamme kesällä töistä meillä oli tapana heittää hiostavat saappaat pois jalastamme. Kotipihassa, ensin pari varovaista potkaisua jotta jalka irtoaisi liukkaammin, ja sitten saapas lensi kaaressa, mätkähti maahan, ja toinen sen perässä. Palasin, hikoillen, kantaen kädessäni sientä kuin uurnaa. Jalkani verillä siitä, missä saappaiden ja pyöräilyhousujen välissä iho oli kohdannut ryteiköt ja varvikot... mutta se oli saanut myös koskea pehmeää sammalta lähemmin kuin kankaan kahlitsema. Tuuli sulostutti vielä helteistä päivää, tuuli, joka oli laulaen kutsunut minut ulos. Niin syksyn lähestyessä, ilma liikkuu, ja muistuttaa... Matkoista... ja auringon valossa on jo vaimeutta, punertavampaa pehmeyttä. Astuin metsästä aukkoon mustanvalkeain palestiinalaishuivein piilotellen, kuten korkeamman auringon maissa. Musta, valkea, kuin koivun valkea, musta. Mutta taivaan lakipisteeseen räjähtävät säteet haipuivat täällä länsitaivaan kirkkauteen.

Tietysti, tietysti sinä muistat paljon. Enemmän kuin tiedät tahi tavoitat. Sinä... olet minä, kuten runoissa monesti, ja sinä, minä, me, puolestamme elämme saappaanlestieni alla, tuulessa ja kirjan lehdillä, laulussa ja sellon säälivässä voihkeessa, ja pianon hymyilyssä. Meistä on moneksi, ja sinä unohdat... että tavoittelemasi tulee luoksesi tässä ja nyt, että minuus on mennyt ja nykyhetki ja tuleva. Sait lahjaksi minuuden.

Mikä voi selittää sen, että elämäni myötätunnon ja viisauden kertoi minulle suurisilmäinen haltia, miksi luulit rakkautesi elämään himmenneen. (Thoughts, thoughts, please do not dim me now. Stay silent, and listen to what the world has to say.) Iloni, suruni, kokemani nautinto ja tuska tiivistyy niin yksinkertaisille lehdille... celles qui poussent dans les arbres ou celles que j'ai lues, que j'ai entendues through and through, and those that I've baked into my flesh.

Some week(s) ago I got startled by those acts of dependance and interest that were done for my cause. That is the cause of my sorrow and melancholy, ever and ever, for I do not want anyone to enter my realm, I do not wish these elephants in my porcelaine shop. That is, I'm hiding in the shadow of a cold barrier of egotism. It is the lack of compassion - my self-protective shield. I don't want to give up my freedom of a lonely she-lion by binding up to your rules, your narrow want for a friend. I hesitate to befriend those that want me, and Iet it not be my eternal weakness and loss! Because I don't want to lift people up to an existance where they think happiness lingers. Let us be honest: the people who want to love me in order to not to feel themselves lonely, frighten me... as the chains of love always have... brought me fear.

And triumph. Love brings triumph. Oh! Lovers of yesterday, of tomorrow. Still, have we loved more the emotions than the doings and beings of one another? Well, on what base do you build your love, after all? Doesn't it spring out of your life's situation, like from a source? Compassion, caring, trust - you do not need arguments for them, you do not need to nail down your loved ones' personalities. - - Once again, I stand on the brink of a chasm that is personality - for who am I, myself? I discover that emotions, they have and will shape my dynamical body-mind, as those elves shaped my imagination and empathy to a wondrous unity; I met my future on the Bridge of Destiny - and later others formed me, deep in Old Forest, in Mirkwood, in the golden mists of Lothlorien, and the cursed gray mists of the Dead Marshes. Have I not wandered there, as well as any of us? And then the miraculous music that lifted me up in the night, my feet danced to sounds and words more than utterances. For before I knew it, after this long pause, frightened, ashamed and helpless perhaps of others people's needs I sought instictively and found a soft, caring voice... Yesterday my life was in ruins... Now today I know what I'm doing. Got a feeling I should be doing alright... The voice, the notes have reached immortality as long as they wander about in this world and meet those who take heed (that is how we become immortals). I travelled deep down into my musical mind and found the sweet wilderness of the album. Venturing to the un-happier emotions, other voices that became almost noises. A karma police passed by: He must have also helped me to reach immortality. Made me stop, feel the weight of the world on my shoulders and then lifted me high to a space where I lost myself. And was emotion. - - Indeed... these sparks of life.

Water flows, goes on it's way, brightened by the shade of the sun... I crouch again to pick for berries, and the memories flow back, forth, through me. How we wish... to be(come) many things, these bits of nerves and flesh and white blood cells in a vastdeep sea of emotion. The life mirroring me... is a pool of radiance. Watch it for a while, it'll turn into a whirlpool. Once, I have tried to reach self-understanding. All this long while, I wait, to come into a realization. The world is in me, the word is the key.


This dream of life that suffocates me with its warmth. It is confortable. And makes me Confortably Numb. I listen to words of music that have made me something I am today, or perhaps they have found some resonance inside my mind and inside my little world, just close by to touch, to almost touch.

I have read thoughts that I can recognize even though they're swinging through time and history. Does it not prove that we are formed of the matter of stars, à l'intérieure ? That in some way the shimmer in thine eyes is the same as the thought in me? Have I not whispered strange languages and understood the substance within?

E allora tanto vale star qui, attendere, e guardare la collina. È così bella.

I close my books, I cherish the knowledge in myself. You shall not think too far, otherwise you'll fall into a pit, pitch black, with no walls or ceilings. Have you not looked at the sky? Marvelled its deep blue, the ever-moving, never-still clouds. A cloud's berry. You are chained to the ground with your roots, deep in the soil of evergreen, but the sun gives you flavour, makes you shine. Behold the sun, it has nothing to offer you. You are a small sun gazing onto the bigger one. But the suns will set, and you'll last. - - La naturalité, in your doings. Tell me, poor girl, what is natural to you? Wouldn't you rather be the night's daughter? They speak about a veil (black as a hole in the memory, a whole memory) that can suffocate you too. But have you not stood on a cliff, gazing deep in to the night, and you have not found its end? The eternal clearness of nights. And on a cool, cool kindly night, the stars are much more merciful companions than the Roi Soleil Cruel and his white-furred clear-blue cloak.

But you're not as old as the stars temselves, little girl.


Yes, that's how you wanna feel, don't you, with a scrape of theatrality? When you're on a stage, as an actrice. The lights are on you... You feel the ultimate peace, when there's just you and the world is a stage.