New Year’s Evening

There are two people on earth for whom the New Year’s Eve is not important. No big deal. You and me. We talk about this every year when the date is approaching. Each year you spend it alone. I usually have more invitations or let’s call it – obligations. Last year you were in Phuket, alone, doing nothing special, you texted me at midnight my time. I was miserable in the mountains with people whom I don’t know well, with conflicts in couple. I wrote to you. You told me to get out of it – the house or the relationship. I sent to my stepfather a SOS text, asking for advices. My 31st 2013 was terrible.

This year you are alone. I am too. I would not have been able to escape obligations if it was not because of my lumbago. I need calm and rest. I need to reach the first minute of 2015 alone. I feel like it would be the best way to end the year. All the years I spent the 31st evenings alone have always turned out fine. I feel like I have my destiny grabbed firmly in my hands at the very first minute of the year, with no interactions with other people. The more I grow old the less I have the capacity to stand small talks, dinners with people I don’t know well, and specifically on the 31st evening. After all I think I do care a lot about this day, I would love to spend it with the loved ones but not with strangers. Last year I was surrounded with strangers, stuck in a house, in couple. I have made efforts for the couple to be with strangers at dinner on the 31st. This year, at this time, at six hours before midnight, I already feel the serenity. I let go.

I stop thinking of you today. Not forever. Just today. Every day of the year I think of you. Non-stop. This would be the only evening when I think only about myself without letting you down. But strangely enough, the moment I stop thinking of you I instantly feel you even closer to me.

 

 

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The connection

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Beyond feelings, beyond love, she realizes that there is something even sweeter, more meaningful. It’s the connection, the link she has with people around her. People who are close to him first. People who are his loved ones. But there is more about that. It is not because of the love she feels for him. She does not come to them because of him.

The precious link like a thin invisible rope, yet strong, unique and magical which connects her to his loved ones. She has built with them a connection. Beyond him. And even if not with him. There is no such importance. His presence or absence in the connection is not to be considered. And even though she could not define the relationship she has with him. She can define the thing she has with his close ones. It’s all about connection. Far beyond him. Far beyond love. She appreciates seeing his loved ones and cares about them. Like her own family. She has adopted his loved ones. Not because of him. But she likes the way human beings care about each other, develop their relationship, strengthen the link, let grow the affection.

When she shares moments of her life with his family, she is glad to have met such nice persons. She has never thought that because they are his family. And this has nothing to do with love. And that is magical touch of the connection part. There is something extremely delicious in connecting. When she receives the good intentions from his family, she knows she is lucky.

Of course when she talks about him they see that her eyes are sparkling, her smile is more nervous. Of course that is unavoidable. She never wants to hide her feelings. Whoever in his family can perceive it, this is fine with her. She just never discusses with them about her relationship with him. Her love is kept in bashfulness, in decency. She would never discuss anything like that with them. Of course she is the one who could analyze him in details because she knows him by heart. And his loved ones can feel that. She could share a lot with them. Her childhood. Her memories. Her emotional injuries in the past. But not her love for him. This, they would have to guess or see only in her eyes. Or perceive it in her silence.

On both sides, what is delightful is the connection. The sharing, the sweet delicacy between adults, between human beings.

The link is marvelous and not fragile. The connection is easy. Far beyond love. Tenderness it is. With or without him in the equation. That is very important to her.

Trust me

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“I really wanted to see you,” I said.

“And I really wanted to see you, too,” she said.

“When I couldn’t see you any more, I realized that. It was as clear as if the planets all of a sudden lined up in a row for me. I really need you. You’re a part of me I’m a part of you. You know somewhere -I’m not at all sure where- I think I cut something’s throat. Sharpening my knife, my heart a stone. Symbolically, like making a gate in China. Do you understand what I’m saying?” (Sputnik Sweetheart – Haruki Murakami)

She ran after the past, chased ghosts, saw the wall in front of her, stopped, turned around and left. The past. First love never died, she knew it. But present love occupied her mind. She missed her present love. She has missed him so much the last few days. Like hell, she had missed him. She was not afraid to be back in the past because she was convinced of her present love. She tried to let him know that. She wished he would know too without her explanations and all her words the last few days. And he would feel that love, somehow. She was only afraid to have hurt him. By being in the past just for a while. But there was no doubt. There was never ever of any doubt. She might honor the past all these years. But she has offered her heart to the present now. To him. A long while now. Exactly the last nineteen months. In spite of the distance. This love has survived, has grown up. She has fed it with all her energy, devotion. All kind of sacrifices that would help to nourish that love. She loves her present. In its flaw, its suffering, its absence. She once told him: “I love you as an absence, and that will be forever”. There was no idealization in the process. but she had once called him God. She once wanted to tattoo his name on her chest. Because even though it could be the silliest thing to do, she knew she could always say: “I had once loved him as crazy. I love him to death. I tattoo his name because he will never be a regret or a mistake”.  Today her love has reached insanity, craziness, irreality. The present scares her. Not the past. The past was nothing compared to the present. She could go back to the past as long as she wanted. The past was nothing because she had lived it through. But would he understand that without her trying to explain? All she could say now is: “Trust me”.

Without your love

“Without your love” – Eriko will never have a romantic relationship with anyone again. She has transcended such things. (IQ84 – Haruki Murakami)

I left IQ84 volume 2 after the two-third of the book. I took it with me for this trip. I started it again on the flight to Oslo. I opened the book and here was the chapter I’d left: Without your love.

Am I like Eriko ? Does the love go beyond limits? Does the romantic thought rise above the normal standard?

I don’t know. I just liked that sentence. Very much.

Certainly it’s a bit me.

Probably the “do not know” state has already something pretty much transcending. As much as I try I had never been able to define my love or relationship with him. Yes, probably I had transcended such things too.

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Today I can’t write a post

Today I can’t write a post. Today if I write I will not stop. Today I can write a book. About him. About us. Either I am speechless. Either I talk too much. There was no in-between. I spent my morning staring at the ceiling. I had a black coffee with no sugar and it was more than sweet. I walked in the street with that smile. I smiled to the postman. I smiled to the bus driver. Women’s day is excellent.

Everything I touched today has turned into gold and diamond. The huge stack of files on my desk was smiling at me. The stapler was dancing in front of me. My computer needed no password to access. Everything was light and magical.

Truth is I have known pure love. I have known love in the deepest essence. Love which knows how to set free. Loving someone as he is, not as you wish him to be. I have touched grace. I have reached the purest form of a relationship, a deepest understanding of what is the word “partner” really means.

He is a good man. He is a good person. He is true. He is real. He laughs. He talks. He eats. He drinks. He washes dishes. He kisses me. I laugh. I talk. I look at him. I tell stories. I kiss him. I live. I love.

Today I can’t write a post. Writing today seems like inventing our story. And today is all about our true story.

He is so real that I can’t write. Any word seems fake. Writing about him is like inventing a character. No, not today. I cannot do that today. Today is all about contradiction. Writing, not writing. Talking about love. Not talking about love. I am not in a normal state of mind.

I hope you understand.

The love will die and not of a natural death

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“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.” (Anais Nin)

I don’t want my love for you to die. But someday it will. You and me we know that.

The other day I was going out in a club. In the dark, music, lights, and people dancing. I looked at them. I looked at the men. The men who came and talked to me. I could not think of anything else except of you. I looked at them. My mind said: “He is so much better”. I danced thinking of you. I laughed thinking of you. I answered them thinking of you.

But in a few years, I don’t see myself dancing in the dark, laughing with music and still thinking of you. Thinking of your absence. Something needs to be done. I don’t see myself comparing other men to you and know for sure that you are always the best.

I don’t want my love for you to die. But someday it will. I will have to suffocate it first then to kill it. It will be a painful process.

Sometimes your absence is too much for me. When I dance, when I laugh, when I live, I want you there as a person. I don’t want a shadow of you, an idea of you.

This love will die not of a natural death. It dies of absurdity, of attrition. It is a sad death. After all these years of magical and vigorous love. Unless you come around and take over your shadow, control your fear and commit yourself. Something needs to be done. Otherwise the love will die, and not of a natural death.

The young samurais

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“The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time.” (Sputnik Sweetheart – Haruki Murakami)

Someone says that dreams are not something we see while sleeping, dreams are something that keeps us awake.

My dreams are not the ones described by H. Murakami. I don’t enter the world of dreams and stay in there. I dream of concrete projects which give me energy to move.

Lately I see my life surrounded by people and children of different nations. I see myself with them sharing my books, my favorite movies and music. I see myself reading poems to kids in their language, I see myself teaching kids to write poems. I see myself sharing my love of movies to them. I would like to see them excel in Asian art martial. I will call them: “my junior samurais”. They will be dreamers like me.

This idea keeps me awake. I know I would get there to realize my dreams. I have the energy and the enthusiasm for that. At this point of my life, I have the feeling that it makes a lot of sense this precise dream of sharing.

Yesterday I realized that the love for him, though immense, is never enough to complete me. I need to love more than one person. I have the love for the whole earth and the need to spread it out.

Call it a dream or not. It makes sense to me.

I have the image of the young samurais in my head. Young heroes reading poems in laughs. Beautiful dreams make beautiful dreamers.

When? Where? How?

I will get there.

Just love. Don’t worry.

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I have gotten some critics for my last posts, especially about the pure love. Love without expecting, love selflessly, love out of time and reality.

Some critics are that for some people love IS EVERYTHING and if they lose love, they have nothing left.

Some critics are that I have a life elsewhere; work, friends, family so I don’t live thinking love is everything and that I can love without expecting because my life is full with other activities.

Some critics are that I don’t defend women, I don’t stand by women. And because of my way of loving, men could easily deny the responsibilities and leave women in despair.

On the contrary, I do think I am standing firmly on the women’ side. I do think that love IS EVERYTHING but love is not dependency. The coolest thing when you love selflessly and with no expectations is that you will see very quickly how receptive and perceptive is the loved person. You will know very quickly if that person is made for you. Loving someone selflessly is not just to love in emptiness. And this also applies in friendship. Give whatever you can and have. You will see that either the other person is totally perceptive about your feelings and sooner or later, he/she will love you back (even though you do not expect it at the first place), either he/she will not understand and reject you quite quickly. Either way you will know sooner or later.

Loving beyond conventional rules and expectations fulfill you. You are completed by your love. Saying it, feeling it, proving it, always in agreement with your inner self. Don’t write a “I love you” and wait for a “I love you too”. Don’t give and wait for something in return. Just do it when you feel like. If there is no echo at all, the love will fade away somehow (because it is normal, we are normal human being, we are not God, Jesus or Buddha) but you are in peace all the way long. Don’t torture yourself expecting for something to come from the other person. Don’t put your happiness in his/her hand. Treat yourself good and he/she will treat you well too. Love him/her passionately but love yourself more and even more passionately. Don’t give anyone the power to make you happy or complete. Just love without thinking. All the good things will come. Just love and give that love some cool time. Let him/her know you love them. Let them live their love the way they want. Set them free to love you or not. Don’t guess their feelings, don’t second guess their thoughts. Love, do, give, act always FOR YOU. For only you. Just love. Don’t worry. Don’t think more than that.

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PS: I particularly like this picture of mine, taken yesterday at a museum in my city. It reflects exactly my state of mind and soul. Me standing on my own, not fragile. Even my shadow seems peaceful. Because I love him exactly the way I describe to you. No more no less.

I can’t believe in ugly souls

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“While they are still alive, people can become ghosts” (Kafka On the Shore – Haruki Murakami)

I have never been closer to someone’s frustration and fear of rejection than in the last 24 hours.

Have you ever looked at someone’s eyes and all you can see is hatred and anger ? The words are hard, the voice of despair and anger, the body smell of failure, the whole world is to be blamed.

Have you ever looked at someone’s eyes and thought that one more second of that gaze and your beliefs and world would be ruined forever.

I have never considered someone as an ugly person. I have never dealt with violence and bad intentions. I embrace life and the world with the idea that if I can see beauty in everything in the roughest condition, someone else could see it too. If I could share my optimism, someone else can feel it too.

I have encountered ugliness during the last 24 hours. It shook me quite badly. I almost felt lost.

I don’t believe in mean people. I can’t believe in ugly souls.

I was scared this weekend.

I was scared that such encounter would change me.

Here I am, praying to find peace and love again.

Luckily I received words of comfort from my dearest friend from far away, I found back beauty. In him.