There is always some madness in love.
But there is also always some reason in madness.
I have been losing myself over and over again every time I wake up. I won’t even try and explain my absence and lack of motivation to write. I cannot write a single line if I cannot look at myself in the mirror and be honest with the story I am proposing to tell. That no longer applies to this moment.
The nakedness of my thoughts shall be as revealing as it will be unabashedly confusing and contradictory even as I attempt to put it into words. No more canvas to paint a nice picture. There will not be, however, spaces for the convalescence of the mind; the mental healing process unfolds unadulterated without granting room for self-pity, guilt, regret or revenge.
My mind has been a vortex of conflicting thoughts that pull me towards opposing directions in a constant flow of a sculptured synergy that creates and destroys itself at every second. It is like being on the edge of an abyss and facing the impending moment when your body is being pulled by forces beyond your control.
People from my past materializes in cyberspace (I know, it sounds so 90’s) as reintegrated ghosts that carry little resemblance to what they have once been; and I do not know how to respond. I carry inside of me the very seed that will cause my demise – like a self-replicating system that recreates its own version completely different from the ones that came before. I feel like sound bytes assembling and disassembling the essence and the identities of who I am not and who I will never be. I need a new language to communicate the state of entropy that manifests differently in the organism that seems to be who I really am.
Everything and everyone folds and unfolds and reshapes in multiple forms before my eyes. I have no identity to speak for. everything is revisited, reshaped, replaced, upgraded and put to rest as soon as a new cycle begins.
I had a vivid vision of bodies interlocked after electromagnetic sexual impulses prompted them to look for a connection impossible to be reached. All of them in search of a seemingly misleading sense of belonging and validation. It is pure dead madness! Like Paolo and Francesca (in Dante’s second circle of hell) forever doomed to be swept away in the air in their eternal lustful embrace.
I read once this quote by Colombian writer Gabriel García Márquez that said: “sex is the consolation you have when you can’t have love”. As much as I feel perplexed contemplating this thought, I cant shake off the disturbing fact that there is indeed some truth to it. Real love goes beyond our own self-created needs and selfish impulses. Sex, on the other hand, is a basic instinct for self-preservation, dominance and power – an intrinsic part of our own evolution as a species – even though we seem to be stuck in the illusion fabricated in our world to keep us all hooked as junkies in need of a never-ending and immediate fix. ‘Sex, Drugs and Rock-and-roll‘ never seemed so ghastly.
“I searched for God and found only myself.
I searched for myself and found only God”. (Sufi Proverb)
We are all searching for answers. There are no formulas, or miracle pills. The truth is facing right back at us. We see it, but like in a hall of mirrors, we get lost with the illusion of the projections we make. At any moment in time, we can find the way out.
“Be kind to your sleeping heart. Take it out into the vast fields of light…
And let it breathe.
I wish I could show you the astonishing light of your own being.”