I have lost my appetite for discourses, for this continual obsession with ‘wording’ and this unstoppable craving for definitions. The long list of dilemmas that kept me awake at night in my teenage years has become nothing but a dull, distant whisper. I sometimes sit at my desk and aim to write as I used to but only poetry comes about in the best of times, relieving me temporarily and pulling me closer toward all the beauty that my heart contains and seeks to make manifest in the world. This beauty no longer becomes tangible in words or the theoretical pirouettes of the mind but rather, in a practical, mutually shared experience of all those things that existence has to offer.
It is not exclusive to what makes us feel good, but also how we, human beings, have the capacity to transmute our hardships into lessons and overcome our fears, our uncertainties and alter ourselves into something entirely different when mind and matter are consciously oriented toward such a purpose. I currently espouse no philosophy, no one true way or specific religion. I simply lend my ear to the subtle calling of my wyrd and go about as a child would, seizing opportunities, discovering new avenues that challenge how I feel, how I think and how I perceive. I am not comforted by any truths, any thoughts extracted from ancient traditions or any sort of human faith. I am simply a collector of memories and I am inspired by what impacted me in those days gone and use such inspirations to forge my future. There is no secrets, no particularities, just an openness, an urge to go ever forward and go beyond my very own personal frontiers.
I no longer see the world separated by dualistic terms but rather, as a cosmic ensemble of which we are taking a part of for a time and for reasons unknown. My spiritual journey has led me to discover that abstractions are the cause of hubris in man and that love, compassion, temperance, friendship and loyalty, whatever these words truly mean, are the most important elements of our existence and require no specific attributes outside of what is felt through them. They are part of our physis, our essence as empathically capable beings and instead of disconnecting ourselves from such attributes, we should find ways to harvest them. I believe that giving up on this incessant necessity for language is one way to do so, thus restoring some sort of supra-personal understanding, some appreciation for all those unnameable acausal elements that are beyond us, beyond our flawed perception. Thus, we understand how we are nothing but a microscopic spec of dust in the cosmos and we also understand how futile it is for us as a specie, to take ourselves so seriously. In the light of such realisations, I can only slowly but surely withdraw into silence and watch as a passenger would all those fruitless attempt to ‘be right’, to ‘dominate’ others via the convulsions of language and semantics.
What rather makes my soul shiver are the laughter’s near the river during the twilight walks, the long conversations in the golden fields while birds are flying and chirping all around us. I am enlivened after the ascent of a mountain and when I see this infinite horizon of clouds or after a morning session where me and my comrades have been sparing for a few hours. I would exchange all the words in the world for those simple moments where we just enjoyed an ice cream outside, watching the sky turn from blue to purple and than to a dark crimson palette of colors or when we kissed under the bridge, listening to the cars come and go. I also vividly remember my short visits to the monastery where I would lay in the orchard with my pack of wild dogs and meditate for hours on end or when I would walk all day long during the compostelle trail in France and enjoy those simple things, so easily taken for granted.
Those fleeting moments are the true wealth of our existence and it should be a duty for all of us to fight as hard and for as long as we can so we push ourselves toward such moments and not wait for them to come and go as a breeze would. We have the capacity to create such opportunities, to put aside our fears, our limitations and go beyond what is known. Time is a currency, stop waiting and expecting life to hand over everything to you. Fight and struggle to make your dreams realities and collect those precious memories as if they were the greatest rarities in the world. When I close my eyes and I look deep inside of my heart, I am submerged by all this beauty, all those moments pasts that now contribute to forge who I am in the present. When I bathe in the current of my reminiscences, the will for me to write and corrupt through words such magic vanishes altogether. While I would never compare my paths to the path of someone else, I like to believe that I am at peace, possibly the same way Richard Moult Is at peace when he paints his stunning and mystical pieces of Tarot(s) or When David Myatt walks in those landscapes so unique to England.
Hence why I no longer write, I live instead. My life is the most vibrant ritual, the most beautiful poem, the most unique emanation that there is and no convulsions of the human vocabulary can make sense of how numinous and wyrdful our temporary earthly manifestation is or can be. I have so much to do and so little time, I want to see, I want to achieve, I want to be.
I am neither the scars that marked my heart in those days gone,
Nor the idyllic possibilities of my unrevealed future.
The mind is only ever partially the architect of what’s to come,
And the actions undertaken causally are never up to par with what was initially fantasized,
And it is in-between those two melding currents,
That manifest itself what we so casually call: The human experience.
You just have to let-go.