Go where you don't belong...

He speaks of the power of trying, because he has fallen and struggled to stand. He speaks of generosity because he battles selfishness. He speaks of joy because he has known sorrow. He speaks of faith because he almost lost his, and know what it is to be broken, in need of redemption. He speaks of thanks because he is grateful for the totality of this life. Not just the easy parts. And it seems it won't be getting easier. Not at all. Not one bit. 

And so it spins...

A spark in the dark...

I have a hunch the future is darker than I could ever imagine and there is less reason for hope than I am able to see. It makes me grateful there is only so much I can see, and I am left mostly with questions. Grateful, also, that hope is not a reasonable thing. Though I have seen my share of darkness, I am spared perceiving much of it. And here is why I hope beyond a reasonable doubt: I think that as the darkness grows, it makes the dim lights that are left seem brighter. And the darker it gets, the brighter the light appears, until it is so luminous, eventually, even falling shadows are filled with it.

All you need to say is hi...

I knеw you, 

all your blues like a mood ring changing colors.

You did too, 

therе were times we could fight like brothers.

I watched you drive around the bend,

for what I thought,

would be the last time I saw my friend.

The daze of the blades of the grass in summer...

I guess it hadn't yet dawned on us that life is unpredictable, that one day, one of us could suddenly cease to exist and what then? What would be the joy in having left so much unsaid? With what memories would we fill the empty silence?

Love is giving, love is learning, love is willing to receive love and love in return, love is not only your bloodline, but love is also everywhere. Love is what you make of it, whether it’s the birds singing you a personal melody or the waves in the ocean washing away the hate and turning it into unconditional, endless love. Love is the people who would never think of giving up on you. Love is the people who put your broken pieces back together. Love is when the storm comes— and the wind isn’t too friendly, but it’s here for a purpose as it blows the branches on the trees.

Standing there in the light of the window...

Drifting in and out of memories...

Man, it's been a while...

There were never any limitations to his imagination. Visualization served him well. In his mind’s eye, he always saw a better life. Imagination, visualizing, and dreaming big, combined with hard work, determination, and faith, are what got him where he wanted to go, and they can do the same for you.

There are some beliefs I currently believe, that are in my way. I believe so much in them, and I don't really understand why. And when I believe something, I offer a vibration about it, and I keep recreating it in my mind. Like a fantasy that doesn't want to die down. So, something that happened a long time ago, I keep renewing my membership to. I keep bringing it forwards. And so, then the memory, which could be very slight or non-existent at this point, is really active and alive, because I talked about it today. And I talked about it yesterday. And I talked about it the day before, even if it had happened so long ago.

The mountain is you...

I'm sorry I'm a piece of shit,

I know I'm selfish,

and I have to live with it.

Sometimes, I wish I don't exist,

please tell me why,

why am I like this?

Doomsday alert...

I try hard, but I don't succeed. So I try harder, and harder. But I still just don't succeed, I give it a try once more; only realising it's never going to work out the way I want it to. But then again, I remember; I've tried so much. I've tried to please, I've tried to love and I've tried to not care as much. I think about the reason it would be worth to keep going. I try so hard, what's the point. No one accepts me for who I am, no one sees me for who I am, no one takes the time to ask how I feel, no one takes the time to bother. But then there's you. You try, and try. And you just give up hope, because it's just so much easier.

Peace in the back of my mind...

Not exactly sure where I'm going,

but I'm definitely on my way.  

How he misses wandering around with old souls, aimlessly moving from one place to another. How he misses all his dreams and his goals, and how he's lost himself to find another. Seems like a playful game of hide and seek, but that's how he'll forever play this life - loving and living the truth that he seeks, until embraced he finds his way to strive. Gazing into strangers' eyes to find his soul mates, knowing he's so much closer than he thought. His heart keeps the light that forever radiates, through all the darkness, until love is taught. And yet again he looks into the skies, he sees the stars, the moon, that light, missing his home beyond the nights, living in love until the end of the fight.

Like shadows on the moon...

Wearing that same stupid smile...

I guess I'm giving in...

I have layers over layers of a memory warped in place. There is the deepest layer, with the ones I love the most, or have shared this journey longest with. Years and years and years. Maybe, I think, these are all the memories I'll ever be able to make. If I remain stuck here, I'll slowly but surely dry out. And so here I am, trapped between layers of my life, like wallpaper on top of wallpaper for centuries, and I need to peel everything away, I need to be the bare boards, no memories, nothing left. But to get rid of some things, I would have to get rid of everything. So here I am. Living on. A house with ghosts.

Put me in drive...

A flicker of hope,

a feeling begins,

rattling bones,

and I start beliving in something again.

A smile like the sun,

under the moon,

the beat of my heart is riding the edge,

of the way I'm about to move.

Don't stop until you get enough...

There's a time in our life when we're about to give up fighting battles that we choose not to tell to anyone. We fall apart, we break into pieces, and find it hard to make ourselves whole again. We tried to start over, but found ourselves breaking once more with memories we tried to forget. We found ourselves crashing to the ground again, and all we ever thought was to give up and let ourselves go. We became hopeless. Love slowly fading, and we started to forget who we truly are. That time is very close, but I'm not there just yet.

I'll make you remember...

Če te prosim,

bi počakal z mano,

da spet najdem pot?

I will gather up a lifetime of things unsaid, write them down on this thing that is not a blog, and then offer them all to be lit up and burned. All at once. And then I will watch the whole thing turn to ash. The whole damn thing. Light the match, and watch it burn. If flames could speak, what a story they would tell. One of pathetic yearnings and small moments of victory over ones self and the world around me. Turning bones to ash. And it was the burning up of curses and all things bad as well. The universe knows I have had and still have demons, and even curses. Real ones.

Whisper my name...

Love me for who I am, not who I was...

Initials in the sand...

Connected, I'm so in touch with it all,

feel protected by the moon and the stars.

I'm walking barefoot, feel the grass in between my toes,

Bombshell, wind in my hair, let it blow.

It's been a while since I cried over something so nice.

I'm not coming back...

At the lip of a cliff, he looks out over the countryside, through the bare branches of birches and the melancholy covered branches of aspens and pines. A hard wind blows up out of a cavern and over his face. He knows this place, he knows its seasons - he has hiked these mountains in the summer and walked these winding pathways in the explosion of colour that is a fall. He feels the stirrings of faith that here, in this place, in his heart, serenity and peace will come again. But first the scars left behind by the storm must be waited out. And that waiting has worth.

Come on and change my mind...

How often have I lifted my foot to take a peek at what I'm standing on, only to discover that there's nothing there and that I've been confusing falling with standing. And while it's certain that healing brings a better life, it also threatens to permanently alter life as I've known it. My relationships, my position in the world, even my sense of identity may change. Coping patterns that have served me for a lifetime are being called into question. When I made a commitment to get better, I didn't realise I would be risking losing much of what is familiar. Much of what made life so easy. 

Seasons come like seasons go...

Life is like the river: endlessly moving on, ever seeking, exploring, pushing, overflowing its banks, penetrating every crevice with its water. Impermanent, ceaselessly trying to penetrate, to break down any walls, behind which there is confusion and misery. 

I'm still here. The doubt, the fear, the heartbreak, the depression, the anxiety, the insecurity: it didn’t win. The people who hurt me and let me down: they didn’t win. The disappointment and the failure, and the hopes and deferred dreams: they didn’t win either. I'm not really who I wanted to become, but I'm not someone I entirely hate either. I guess what I'm try to say, is that I'm doing my best, with what I've been given. That's all I can really do. Move on, go forward, try to find more meaning, more joy, more love. Hopefully some more laughs, and a deep awareness, that life moves so quickly: I hope I don't miss it.

We'll be frozen in time...

I can't wish away the scars...

And do you ever feel the motion?

And have you ever seen the sun,

setting fire across the ocean?

And I will promise you, 

the best is yet to come.

And if I have to wait a moment,

let the ache fall from my heart,

because I can't give up on forever.

And if I stay a loaded gun,

because I can't live with now or never.

The fate of Karr...

If I imagine myself at the finish line, it seems almost unfathomable I'll ever be able to finish. It just feels like it was something I reached for without truly understanding my limitations. A dream I had without realising what it means to actually live it. So now I am left with a choice. Brute-force my way to some sort of conclusion, or walk away from something that was never really mine in the first place. Or maybe I'm being too hard on myself again? Maybe the only rule is that I don't remain still. That I start with the first page, and then maybe tomorrow, try to finish the second one. And then maybe the third. And then maybe I end up somewhere I can't imagine. Maybe.

If you've got a flag, plant it in the ground...

The more I kick and scream, bite, scratch and try to run away, the darker the skies seem to get. It is now very clearly evident, that I cannot run away from my pain and I cannot outrun the storm. The rain keeps falling, the skies keep trembling, and I am caught in the thick of it. But as it turns out, the water does not scare me anymore. I have learnt to swim. Against the current, with the current, without the current. I am still here, and I am in no rush to go anywhere. So stay awhile, and listen; how the boy became a man, and if luck remained on his side, how the man will become an elder. Quite the story, actually. 

Put in love, put in hours...

He is like that spark of fire, that fell on a leaf and burnt the whole tree down gradually. Look at him now, all you can see is the memories and reflections of a tree that stood tall and strong once before. But he will not let you win. He will show you, how life can rise again from just ashes and dust.

The rain began to fall harder, and it distracted me. I tried to pull myself back, because I felt on the verge of understanding something large and important. It seemed to me that this moment, the light and wind, the sweep of fields, the falling of the sky, captured a sort of life that I have longed for, a life of order and harsh beauty. It seemed instead to be the thing for which I must daily give up my life, an act of submission to something I could not name and only rarely, in moments such as these, have a sense of. Life during these moments seemed neither lost nor ruined but a power to be shared. And devoured.

Give you all that I have...

Forgive me if I jump...

I'm the trouble ahead,

and I scream in my sleep.

You're putting money on red, 

I'm a sure bet at a losing streak.

I keep showing you doors, 

but you can't open them up.

because it gеts harder to see me,

the closеr you try to look.

Not coming back here anymore...

Now that you're standing right here...

He wondered if some part of him knew what was waiting for him. That he would never be a gentle grower of things, or someone who burned like fire - but that he would be quiet and enduring and as faceted as the night. That he would have beauty, for those who knew where to look, and if people didn't bother to look, but only to fear it, then he didn't particularly care for them, anyway. He wonders if, even in his despair and hopelessness, he was never truly alone. He wonders if he was looking for this place - looking for you all. The people who look at the stars and wish. The stars who listen, and the dreams that are answered.

From the bottom of my boots...

Rad bi rekel, da sem že prispel,

ampak mislim, da sem še daleč stran.

I try to focus, but there's a disconnect between my body and my mind, like nothing about it fits anymore. I don't feel like I belong in this body; like I've lost my ability to interact with this world. It feels like I'm observing through a veil, and I don't know how to move. Panic is a type of pain too. And going forward I really need to learn how to tame mine. My thoughts aren't real. The scenarios in my head aren't a warning. They're a pathology. And like any other corrosive limb, I need to cut it off. Set my body free and continue with less of me. Hopefully enough to still resemble a person.

On the edge of gone...

I know you're worried. I'm worried too. I'm sorry for not being able to explain things properly or give you the answers you want. I'm just, very ... I can't think of the right word. How do I explain that my mind is too slow and too jumbled all at once. That I'm out of gas and I barely get through the day? That I've failed, and the only way to keep from falling apart is to accept that? Or that maybe I've already fallen apart, and I don't know if I can sweep the pieces back together? I guess I'll settle on three words. I am tired.

Not good at staying still...

I wish I could know you much more sometimes...

If you wanna kick this rock around,

if you've got a bone to pick with me,

if you've got a flag, 

plant it in the ground.

I'll stay here until morning,

we can fight like we used to fight,

bony-limbed, red-faced, and teary-eyed,

under the glow of the TV light, 

I'd be willing and able.

Just let me be broken...

It's a state of mind...

Have you ever felt your destiny unfolding in front of your eyes? Have you experienced the intensity of the hunt, the fixation of attention that only fate can explain? Have you ever told yourself your feelings were excessive, but known that something huge and pivotally important was carrying you along like a riptide? I can fight that current all I want; but I know it will still have its way with me. Or I can try swimming along with it, and grow amazed by my own power, until I pause and realize that I'm not moving but being moved. I'm not in control, not at all, and that's what makes the feeling so exquisitely exciting.

Lay it on the table...

Sometimes getting to the other side seems impossible. I know there's a way. I can actually see the steps in my mind, but it all seems out of reach. I must pause. Relax. Let me muscles rest. I have to remind myself to do what I can in the moment I'm in. 

He doesn't like it when characters fade from his story. So apologies in advance, for having to bear with subplots within subplots. Plan within plan. His life just somehow turned out that way. By chance or willpower? He can never truly decide. He leaves people and places and times behind. And then he encounters new ones. Sometimes he can't see the patterns or connections, but they are there, between one breath and the next. In the ebb and flow of tides. In the rhythm of the dance.

I think I'm seeing things...

More than anything, I think I want to walk through life, gently. And I want to treat this journey with reverence and as much as possible, I want to walk in peace. I want to walk lightly, even joyfully, through whatever days I am given. I want to laugh easily. I want to step carefully in and out of people's lives. I don't want to tread any heavier than necessary. And throughout life, I think I would like to walk with more humility and less anger, more love and less fear. I want to walk confidently, but without arrogance. I want to walk in deep appreciation. I want to be genuinely thankful for life's extravagant, yet simple, gifts. If life is a journey, then how I make that journey is important. How I walk through life matters. 

Fill up my lungs...

Can't decide if I should let go...

It's in my blood, 

you got me drifting.

Fill up my lungs, 

a new beginning.

Feel so alive inside your echo.

I lose my mind,

you got me falling so deep,

we stop the time,

now you're all I see.

Inside your echo...

Sometimes it's not what you do differently it's what you do consistently. In recent weeks I approached solving my life's problems from many different angles. I used to try to make everything perfect, wanting everything in its place, life proper and justified. That was my desire. It did not happen though, yet that desire did not die. Ironically, as I fell into deeper adversity, it grew. And in some ways suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds a meaning, such as the meaning of a sacrifice. I felt the meaning for my self imposed suffering was the honorable character I would later possess; it had to be.

Don't have it all, but I sure have it made...

Come on and change my mind...

Maybe. Who knows. It still might happen, right? But I'll tell you something: I think he's a magician. The way he spins reality around himself, and transforms it into something beautiful. He is strong because he feels pain. He feels the difference between what the world is and what he would make of it. Or what did you think that stuff in your chest was? He is strong because he hurts more than others. His wound is his strength.

Most people carry that pain around inside them their whole lives, until they kill the pain by other means, or until it kills them. But maybe I can find another way. A way to use the pain. To burn it as fuel, for light and warmth. To allow my imagination to open doors that don't actually exist. To phantom an existence based on good, and fair and justice. To surround myself with people that fan my flames, not dim them. To learn how to break the world that so adamantly tries to break me.

If I go, I'm going...

Healing was the spark in a wildfire...

I don't want your garden,

I don't like the cold, 

we don't see it coming,

but we know how this goes.

Maybe it's just something,

something that you say.

Everything means nothing,

until it goes away.

This is what I hear in my head...

It felt like I was stopped dead in my tracks. That I had fallen, or maybe even tripped, and maybe even kicked while I was down. I cannot say for certain, all I know is that I was unable to get back up. Stuck in a rut and wading in the muck. Paralysis set in. I was in deep inertia, disempowering and disabling. I wondered what was it going to take for me to restart my engines and get moving again? What exactly needs to happen? And what do I do while I'm at the mercy of the universe? I guess I'll wait. It's the only thing I'm really good at. 

Died on this hill...

I'm still not quite sure why things had to happen this way. What specifically I did to cause such an intense reckoning with myself. I don't understand the reasons for causing each other pain. But mere understanding wouldn't chase away the hurt. It does not call upon the sun when dark clouds have loomed over me. Let the rain come then if it must come. And let it wash away the dust that hurt my eyes.

No matter how hard he tried to maintain his calm and collected persona, he knew it was all a ruse. All he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide. Hide from the world. Hide from her memories and this awful, dreadful year that he is leaving behind. If only he could enter a shell and never leave. But his would always be a broken shell, with all her cracks and holes exposed for the world to see. The veneer he had carefully painted to protect and hold himself together was peeling away. There's nowhere left to go.

But you learned to survive...

It was a very ordinary day, the day he realised that his becoming is his life and his home and that he doesn't have to do anything but trust the process, trust his story and enjoy the journey. It doesn't really matter who he's become by the finish line, the important things are the changes from this morning to when he falls asleep again, and how they happened, and who they happened with. The day he saw flowers and learned how to turn his daily struggles into the most extraordinary moments. Moments worth writing about. For so long he let his life slip through his fingers, like water. He's holding on to it now, and he's not letting go.

Losing self control...

So it goes, so it goes, so it goes...

Poison spreading to my lungs,

I'm not holding my breath, 

not holding any faith at all.

And I'll pray for you, 

be in pain for you.

I'll leave the porch light on,

heartbroken, each morning,

when it's me that turns it off.

Only do what pain allows...

The waiting. The wanting. Something inside me snaps. And I hate myself for it. And I hate those around me who contributed to it. And I hate how I've failed, and how others have failed me. I hate that I have to deal with this. And I hate how I can't count on anyone to be completely there when I need them, exactly the way I need them to be. And then I can't even sleep, because of my noisy brain. No matter how tired I am. It's impossible to accomplish anything but lying here in bed. Frustrated and victimized at three in the morning.

The world has changed his heart...

But it all adds up to nothing...

It's that feeling I get somehow knowing that something great is about to happen. While every passing day nothing great really does happen. I wake up, go to work, exercise, play my games, sleep and wait for another monotonous day. I know the great day is not tomorrow, not even the day after, not even in a week or a month's time. 

But it will come soon, the way you meet someone without expecting or knowing that you are going to have so much fun together. It will come soon, the way dreams come true overnight, demanding years of perspiration, ironically. It will come soon like a gush of cold air in a hot afternoon. It will come soon like a stranger you feel you have already met. It will come like a guest who would be here to stay. It will come like an eternity, a serendipity, an irony. It will come when it is time for it to come, the way you fall asleep and dreams arrive from a distant land, surely but stealthily.

If I stay the course, I could get it right...

A river doesn't hold a grudge against a rock in its path. A leaf doesn't refuse to blow in the breeze. It allows itself to be spun around and then lands gently, once the storm has passed. A plant doesn't deny water or sunshine. I know all this, yet here I am, struggling to keep myself afloat. I have been given the gift of self-awareness, but it is quickly turning into self-destruction. Here is what I must accept: I have appeared from nowhere, I will disappear into nowhere, and on the way I am madly running, not really enjoying what is now and here. I must let whatever comes, come. Let whatever goes, go. I will stop demanding. I won't regret. Won't cling. Won't control. I will simply flow. I will let it go.