You are my Love Project, I said to Corinna, at the very beginning, something like two years ago. She had to laugh, actually thought that was fine, nice even. I want to be your Love Project, no problem. It’s about love, right? True love?
And now I ask myself: Where is this Love leading me? I sit all day with a kind of tingling in my chest. No butterflies in the stomach but something like that. This time the plane leaves at 19:00 and since yesterday I have not been in Dalem, energetically then. That feels weird, weird, not unpleasant. I’m just here too, with me, in me, in the moment. Nothing wrong with that. But not connected to a place, I could be anywhere.
This time we are flying across the Channel. I can see England, but the coast. Funny, above all of England hangs a cloud cover and around it it is cloud-free. How mean…
Sehnsucht, nice German word. Desire, I long to be with Corinna. Can’t explain it. To lie next to her, to feel her, to continue on our journey, the common path. Sometimes it seems like a longing for Mama, that’s a bit I think. But there is also something else, a free desire to be together. I can test it by remembering that I am ultimately alone, that I am an autonomous being, self-dented in the sight of eternity, the nothingness, the light, the love.
Yes, that feels okay too, and that little boy in me finds that difficult, very difficult.
We fly over London, a D-tour. I would like to do a very long D-tour, bypassing mortality. Every day I think a few times about the finiteness, the last island. I’m afraid of saying goodbye, to having to say goodbye to my love. To leave her alone, that also feels mean. Love hurts sometimes. That’s not the love, that’s the pain. When the pain is healed, you can love again. (To Freek the Jonge, Dutch cabaretier)
Yes it hurts, the farewell, a lot of pain, just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes. The imperfectity of things, of me, of my being here, of the world, the continuous suffering of mankind. How can I leave here, leave this behind, I feel a sting in my heart, literally. Since my heart attack I can feel love pain so literally in my heart. O sensitive heart, my companion, my guide, teach me what I have to learn. Why I’m here, why I’ll go again, what it’s all about.
Love, Love, that’s what I came up with when I was looking for holding. Holding that is needed to contain the nothingness, the emptinessjĖ, the non-being. An emptiness that I encounter when I imagine that everything is exactly as it should be, that there is nothing I can do, should do. That I am and nothing else, that everything I think about myself, what I want, what I suffer from is not about who or what I really am. That I have no influence on that spark, that flame, that what wants to live. It’s getting quiet, it’s getting empty, there’s nothing. even less than the absence of anything.
How can I deal with this in God’s name, how can I carry, endure, contain this. There is so little basic trust in me, I was looking for the right words. Trust, hope, sense, ability to put things into perspective, strength, faith, clarity. All words, concepts, things to hold on to. Even those disappear into nothing, there is no grip, there is no hope, there is nothing.
When I let this be true, something is welding down in my stomach. A kind of energy, presence, separate from me and also connected to me. The only word I could give it is ‘Love’. Love, and I can feel that what I call love is the basis of my existence. Not the emotional, romantic, universal or unconditional love, no, more a supporting presence that is loving, inclusive, perhaps compassionate, understanding, wise, I could just call it God. I think I’ll just let God live in my belly for a while.
