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Words from readers and friends
"Many thanks for reading my work and for sending me yours; it sounds fascinating and full of insight and drama. I wish you all the very best for the continuation of your writing career and thank you so much for taking the trouble to write to me and tell me a bit about what you are doing. |
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There was some space in time when everything felt kind of different to me, it was a couple of years, some more, some less than that... No matter, as long as those days were speaking about the everlasting, the eternal and unmoveable that is ralling round this finite world of ours. Everything that has been started wll be finished one day, sooner or later. There is a poem, The Lake, that says so: "What? Can we not pin down at least a trace? What? Lost entirely? Gone for evermore? Time gave, and Time is minded to efface; And shall not Time restore? Dark gulfs, eternity, the past, the void! You swallow down our days; and what's their fate? Will you give back what you have once destroyed, Our bliss, divinely great? " Well, it means about us and our human condition and that is all. No wonder, those days which I have mentioned were telling about other kind of force, that is not originated from any source, that is not begun, that has been and always been, that is and just that. If nothing fulfills the being... will be that the reason is because nothing is for good? If, by one hand, the being is sad and time cannot help but conducing everything behind, on the other hand when there is happiness, it is never a faithful company; it is conduced behind the same way. So, what is the point? If your figure sets together the sun and all the fears don't matter anymore, all the joy was sorved like in a dream, when everything is nothing but memories... No. What begins cannot bare the weight of ours. The hard meeting with the "just that" brings uncertainty, emptiness and a sensation of unsatisfaction that may grow out of control, up to the day when it is over - of course, as long as it was started one day, so it will have an end as everything - but maybe too much late. Maybe you are finished before your own ideals and wishes that are to be satisfied yet. And, what about the thing that does not begins itself? What about the feeling that is yours in integrality, that is seen with the eyes that see and heard with the ears that hear? That exists. I'm sure that is the same for generations, for all the times, for all of us. That is unchangeable, that is. It is no "Just that", but "Just that is". No religion will relieve you, no passion, no job, no arts, no truth, as long as they are all temporal. We are just spending idle time while everything passes and we are streamming along the current of the life. But there remains the question: What if it all is to be finished? Even the most beautiful songs have their final key. But I have felt what is behind, for a brief there was what is not transient, it didn't started. It didn't finished in me. It just showed up what was asleep, like a seed under a shade tree and that truth has been always. |
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