INTO THE DARK SIDE

Its dark side always stands out. For Amleta it is a constant struggle. It sinks and resurfaces. You continue to breathe while remaining at the bottom of the sea. Submerged by torment, chained to the passion that takes away a piece of me every day, I fight an existence of continuous death. A black blood flows in his veins, he tried to purify it, eradicate it, erase it from every vein, from every cell of mine. But it always remained where it was, even when it seemed to disappear. Each time it takes over and holds me prisoner in its claws. The night is nothing, it is during the day that the atrocious suffering of being and not being at the same time begins. Like a crack in a well-programmed clock that has this little detail: it rides on the lost hours of its inhuman time and gets lost in the shadows that are drawn in its secret garden. A little girl comes out of the past, brings flowers to a grave, that of her grandmother, and says her name is Hamlet. That child was her, at the age of eight, when she was reciting death on the Persian carpet at home. Soon Hamlet appreciated the silence of certain places where the only living presence were the marble angels. The scent of rotten flowers followed her steps. She had never felt so happy as her first time in the cemetery. Was that the paradise everyone was talking about? There you could stay like that, just as you were. He didn’t have to talk to anyone, he could sit and stay for hours with them, the stone angels. They whispered sweet words to her in the wind among the cypresses and only she could hear them. The candles fascinated her, if she wanted to take them home, her mother scolded her, you can’t steal from the dead! He told her. She was upset, for her those were the flames of their vanished hearts and she wanted to keep them safe in her home. Then, when she was finally big, she bought as many as she wanted and her room glowed with flames. Those red flames were so happy for her! People did not understand the beauty of light, they believed them candles of the dead and that’s it. She misses the cemeteries. It has been a long time since he went and nowhere has he found that silence again. Perhaps one day not too far away, when this struggle of yours will also end, she too will be able to rest there and be only a stone angel.
I have lived half my life years now. I have traveled the world. Saw many good and bad things. Experienced with good and bad people. I was abused at 4 years old. But I was saved by art. I loved it very much. People and animals. So much so that I was able to save a lot of people except myself. I have always done everything following my heart but my heart has taken me to a country where I am dying out. I am dependent on vital drugs for me and I cannot marry from this damn nation. I hate being here. I hate my beating heart. I see too many people just looking for money. That’s why I’m alone here. Many have used and exploited me. But I said enough. I have given too much of myself. The world will perish and there is no Gandalf to screen Evil. No brave group to take out the orcs. We human beings are finished now. Machines own people. When I talk about real life and not virtual, they laugh in my face. All. It is normal for them to be on the web 24 hours a day. They consider me strange to me because I prefer to go out and live outside and not inside a screen. But unfortunately there are few left without cell in hand. We are just white flies. The trouble is this. See how life goes. You see that working does not bring happiness. Not even love gives happiness. Neither are friendships. And neither does the money. So what’s the use of all this play? Adaptation to society. From an early age they tell us that we are here and we must do as they tell us to do. And we all to obey. Whoever escapes is lost. Lost or free? Boh. Freedom always has a price. But in the meantime we are in a cage like lions and have to be content with this stupid survival? I am tired.
I’m remembering myself. I’m remembering who I am. Jasmine scent. Sometimes the neigh of a horse woke me up in the morning. The open cracks let the sun’s rays pass through and that dust looked like magic dust in the air. The voices of the neighbors, the morning television, the news. The heat already after the early hours of dawn. The scorching heat. The life that melted inside the water bottles. Ice cubes on your fingers. On the deck chair reading a book, chasing away ruinous flies. Then the dives in the sea, every day, every summer month, every year in the villa by the sea. I hated that season. I hated the heat and mosquitoes. In my literary solitude I felt detached from life outside. I didn’t know what human comedy was still like. I didn’t know sex and I didn’t even know love. Me on the deckchair, with my Flaubert and Miss Felicita and her parrot. My elementary teacher loved me. He gave me that book because I was good. I was always studying and always finishing my homework. I drew a lot. Notebooks full of drawings. Trees, flowers, animals, …. masks. That book stole my soul. That book stole my life: “A simple heart” was entitled. I didn’t even know who this Flaubert was. I also really liked the illustrations of that girl who lived alone with that bird. That girl who then died with a smile in her mouth. The smell of jasmine mixed with the scent of fried fish. The smell of jasmine that filled the summer nights. The sweat of being able to touch my pain made word. The pain that made me alone. I spoke English, nobody understood it. It was not modern English. It was the language of another life of mine. I’m remembering myself. About that little girl sitting in the deck chair. How I read that book without knowing who Flaubert was. I was only 11 years old and I didn’t know what love was. I didn’t know what life was. The pages were full of illustrations. Such beautiful designs!

LOVE IS NOT THE ANSWER

If I think back to how much love I gave to people who didn’t want it, how many disappointments I had, how much sadness and suffering, how much anticipation and anger! now it doesn’t seem true that the end of all this has come. I poured my love into hearts that did not feel, into souls that did not live. I gave myself to people dead inside, to those who did not know what it meant to love, to those who do not yet know what it means to love. I painted love in minds that just wanted not to love. I tried, tried, risked everything about myself, even my sanity, my inner well-being. And all because within me this energy needed to flow out, to be given to others, to expand, to go out and fulfill itself. After so much wandering, the unexpected landing is the best thing. Where you never thought you could find a place of peace and serenity, you arrive right there by chance, discovering that everything that was was only a prelude and to what would come after. After so much torment, so much existential fatigue, after every conflict and inner struggle, now I can say that everything has taken its place within me. That there was a total stop of that wild and dangerous flood that came out of me every time I tried to stop myself. That noisy and chaotic waterfall that poured onto the other, like an explosion of uncontrollable energy, now flows by itself in a different way. The tiger that roared inside the lotus flower has now disappeared and the lotus flower has opened and shines with light never seen before. My Tai Chi master had seen well, but it was I who couldn’t see because the times weren’t right yet. There was all that water that stirred my heart, which deprived me of that vision of myself that I still could not have. Because I was not yet ready for enlightenment. Now I understand that enlightenment can only be found if it is not sought. It comes at a time when you don’t look for it at all and you may feel you can never even get there because you are not the type, because you do not have that way of seeing or feeling. Because you are in the hell of life and you can’t think that anything else can exist. It comes at a time when the last thought of your life is to have that vision and that peace that you have always dreamed of. And only now do I understand why it is so difficult to describe it to others, why it is difficult to find the words that can describe such an inner state. It is a bit like when Buddhists try to explain that suffering does not exist and that it is only a construction of man. If I go to see what has been inside me so far, I find nothing but nothing. But it is that nothing that is stupendous, that is a whole. Because becoming nothing, becoming emptiness is a splendid thing. Nothing has become my past. There is no longer any trace of it inside me. There is no one and no thing. Everything has vanished into the nothingness that I am now. A lotus flower needs only water to grow and water is the only source it needs. Everything else no longer exists. The inner light is the only source, the rest is something that never comes. My being is aware of the journey it has made to become the Void, and the acquired well-being is extraordinary. Because my being no longer needs anything. Love, anger, life, sun, food, friendship, internet,… ..all these things seem made of smoke to me. I am like an impalpable fog inside me. No sensation comes to me from the outside but it is my being that flows and that’s enough for me. Before, the world was the fertilizer for my plant. Now my plant grows by itself, has its roots in the sky and the sap comes from the light. It does not need anything else. The void needs nothing else. My heart is still beating, it is alive, yes, but inside my heart there is only infinite light. Inside me there is only one lotus flower that blooms every day.

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