Talking to a hostage of a midlife transformation
Transformation is not about change, it is about dying and being reborn
My dear,
I am not surprised this game seems unbearable to you -
Not sure if I myself understand its frontiers.
The shore we have abandoned is far behind us
And our anchors are not yet welcomed anywhere else.
We are in the middle of an endless ocean…
Your closest friend has brought you here, your death.
Kissing you behind the mask of your awkward boundaries,
Your obsessive fetish for language,
Your self-forgetfulness in other peoples’ stories… death has brought you here.
The distance between your smile and the real life while you are playing this game —
Is a distance between Sirius star and the tiny tea drop on your tongue…
(Never mind — the words are only echoes …)
Every time you start playing this game — your every cell is hermetically closing.
But sweet is the taste of it — it is rooted in your imagination!
Imagination is lingering, clinging, sensual.
Little do you know about the thinnest of lines between imagination and death.
A premature baby, too fast was your crossings into her domain when you were just born.
Too far …
Death is its own island. …
While life is anywhere you want. It is simple. Powerful. Shining. It endures anything.
You only have to learn its fringes with death.
Life loves playing.
…. And it fades out completely at TOO much of a game ….
You spent many quiet days in that realm when you were just born. Life was making her way into you steadily, while death gracefully receded.
Your body always remembers this pace and is imitating it over and over again.
The more you remember death the more you will be loving the forms of colors, sounds, words, images.
The more you remember life the more you will be loving the essence of colors, sounds, words, images.
With gentle parachutes, your imagination will always be landing you at this razor between life and death while you are playing this game obliviously…
Years passing by — you will learn to see the smiles that are empty and balancing with death, read into the silence that is covering the volumes, pass over the words that are only misleading coordinates on the vastness of a moment.
You will see how life is always much more simple than death. How it is always filled with humility and love, instead of avalanches of emotions and grandiosity.
Let’s relax and stay drifting in the middle of this ocean for awhile…
The shores are somewhere there. You don’t have to see them. You simply have to float.
