It feels like time is flying. I am stressed and can not keep up with things. It is less than seven weeks until I go and it is hard to understand what it all means and all the little things I have to take care of before I leave.
Maybe one is not supposed to be able to plan for such a trip.
I should be sleeping, there is so much I need to do tomorrow, but still my thoughts are spinning. I’m wide awake and hungry in the middle of the night. Words and sentences formulate in my head, sometimes in a beautiful way. The pieces fall into place, my words on paper. I long to write them down.
In my soul I know that there are eight hundred books waiting to come out. Words to be caught, which will be formed to sentences and paragraphs to be written. Chapters to be merged on to some form of invisible whole that I did not even know what it is when I wrote them.
For the first time, I long to find peace to write, time to get peace, the oppurtunity to get time and the strength to take the oppurtunity when it appears.
I have been my biggest critic in my life. Therefore, I have been passive, never allowed myself to go deep into the work of writing, expressing myself, to articulate how I look at myself and my surroundings. Sometimes I think that it is because I’m not finished yet, but a nagging feeling in my back of the head tells me that it is really about fear.
All my life I have shown fragments of who I am to the world. I’ve never exposed myself, but only ever showed aspects of it. Now I dream of silence, stillness and being a whole person in everything I do.
I am afraid that some people do not want to listen, that I will loose so much because of it, but I feel more and more that I can no longer hold back. To live a fragmented life is not to live any life at all.
I have a strong desire to be both the deepest part of me and the extreme end of my superficiality in everything I do. Integrating all parts of myself in every moment I live.
I know there are many people who are not interested in all these aspects of me, but it’s ok as long as I’m allowed to be there anyway. I know what the price for it might be, but I also know what the price is to continue to live my life one fragment at a time.
The people I admire most in life is the brutally honest people who refuse to adhere to someone else’s idea of how life should be lived and it is the same way I want to go. To live my life the only way possible, my way. Then I must dare also to be brutally honest with myself and to everyone else. That does not mean that I know how life should be lived, I will still feel like Bambi on thin ice. I will be scared and insecure and wonder what I’m doing, but I will allow myself to live life fully.
To fall over and hit myself, that is just a bonus.
