For a longer while I have been on this earth. I could complain about my life being unfair. I suppose how my life has been in some way, might be seen that way by some. What I went through and all that. Never really knowing the warmth of love, outside of the self-love that flows from within myself. Something I had to find within myself, in the death of my ego, its dissolving into what Orphism would call Elysium. To in a way die before death itself.
There were still some emotions and stirrings left these past days. Of the ego, its desire for stability, for recognition and survival. It is not to say that I now have some sort of death wish, or suddenly lost the will to live. Maybe it is more a realisation that to fight to be seen by others, to desire to be seen by a world that is mostly blind, is a futile thing to hope for. Most live in the world, never truly knowing who and what they are, let alone anyone ever seeing them. As to truly see, is to see beyond ego, and into the soul of who someone truly is. It is something my family, nor society could ever do.
One might now say, but is this not a sad thing. Is this not something to fix. Yet how could we even do such. We can’t push people to see what they are not willing to, nor are truly ready for. As much, as most of the world of civilisation is build on illusions tied to ego, the super ego, and all its many trappings, truth and warmth do exist. Not because we seek it outside and elsewhere. As it exists even in complete solitude. Yet there is of course within me always the longing for someone like Christina. Who was there for me, laughed despite her pain. Despite her own darkness. Wanted to be a light for others, because she knew how it was to not have one.
Any reader might now wonder. Well what of you then. I am what I am really. A lone wanderer with his flame. His own light to keep him warm. It of course does not mean that I do not enjoy the company of others. Yet I do know that after eons of struggle, that this one soul is tired of it. To just exist as something to struggle, to fight for the mere right to exist, to be actually loved and seen. That itself is no life. It does not mean that life is not worth living. It just means it is not worth living in this way. I spent so long to search for what most humans search for, and find in each other. Yet even though my life has not been such, and the belonging, comfort and warmth of love has been absent from my life. Except the moments with the few friends and strangers I met that do care. That itself is still life. My life.
Even if for most it would seem dark, depressing or nightmarish. Maybe lonely. These are the cards I had been dealt. I made the best out of it. I found for a while freedom. Actual freedom from the chains of my past, my family, my trauma. Even right now I am breathing the air of freedom. Even if there are moments in which a remainder of the ego persists, looking for a life that never has been mine, nor would be. As the idea of some happy love filled life, that itself is an illusion too. Life is messy, far from easy or just happy love filled. Yet it is in the fleeting moments of meeting people that are special in their own way, that it becomes worth being. May those be the few fleeting moments I had with Christina, or with anyone else that added a little light to the dark.
My idea of freedom here is to let go entirely of the struggle. Just to move through life and let it happen. No longer caring about outcomes and what will happen to me. As life will unfold regardless of what one does or does not do. Tries to control, push or really whatever else one tries. I could here worry about all the what ifs and all that. Yet all what really exists is in the here and now. And in the end no one survives this thing called life. As to be alive is to die, and to die before ones physical death is to truly live.