Like a sun burning from within shining through on the outside.
It was the routine of the day, years must have passed since I heard her voice inside my head. The weird going back and forth through all kinds of realities, that I thought she took me. Still can not explain what happend to me back then. Alternate realities, a female guide, with a unique temper of her own. At some point I was glad to be back here, in what I thought to be my true reality. There can be only one right? "Hey Coop, what are you wandering off to in your mind?" Coffee, on a late summers day, outside still warm, looks like the weather pattern is slowly changing. Warmer days to the end of summer, even way into october, good for the last of the harvest. "Sorry, you were saying...?", I replied and took another sip of my cappucino. But somehow I found it hard to keep my focus on the subject. Was even done a bit talking about blockchains and stuff.
Life in all has become a bit of blur, routine, repetition and I wondered a lot if this was all there was to it. My body already had told me that I had been living in this suit for half a century by now. And it had cleary started to disfunction, it degenerates slowly, more intense experienced that way each day. Kind of weird though, this whole proces of decay, as I had become aware of my consciousness being eternal. Well, in essence that is how I started to experience it, even though I am okay if others would call it their soul or spirit. Main thing that hit me was that it did not seem to age, the way my body did. My vision slowly becamed blurred, but that might be the plan, just like the nose and ears keep growing. Less able to see ones own wrinkled skin, while the loss of smell is compensated by the growth of ones sniffer, or kokkert as they call it overhere sometimes. The ears growing bigger shells to compensate for the loss of hearing. Somehow this made no sense to me. Because some organs become less sensitive too, but get no compensation in growth. Nope, they start failing at moments one does not want it too.
"So, what do you think, will the left win...?", my table mate and good friend was talking about politics. Long time since I gave it a thought, because I thought it was just part of the system. Rulers, believing that they ought to rule over us and constructed a paradigm with a so called left, middle and right. "Divide and rule, my good friend, that is what it is all about, you know I stopped voting last year, because I do not want to support the master-servant system in any way.", I replied and winked. My dear friend looked at me as if I just had landed from another planet. "But you have to take a stand in this.", he told me in a kind of worried tone. "Tell me, looking at the longer term history, what has really changed through our so called political system?" He just stared at me and I knew I was making no sense at all to him. "Forget it, let us talk about other subjects.", I quickly said and he nodded. "Is it too early for a special brew?", I asked, he smiled and said: "It is already beer o'clock mate, what is on the menu today?"
The light over the market square became soft, tones of warm yellow, orange-red. The sound of summer, it is hard to describe, it is in the air, the time when you know autumn is coming soon. People seem to be so more relaxed, somehow. As if going on a summer holiday is even more stressing than a day to day routine. Like: "Ah, finally the vacation is behind us, now we can return to a life style we know and love." Not the actuall holiday is the fun part, but the fact that it is a break. That it gives stress before even being on your way. And then all the things that have to be done when being far away from home: "Did you buy the gifts?" Sleeping in a bed that has been slept in by thousands of others. Or being cramped up in a small space, called a caravan for three weeks, no matter what the weather.
"You are drifting off again, are you not...?", my good friends started laughing outloud, he knows me very well, been mates for thirty something years already. Now and then we meet up and enjoy a beer. Special brew, not to get drunk as a skunk, just the "La joie de vivre" experience. When I enjoy that, the worldwide well known brand of Nederland comes out after. The one that makes ones breath smell like dung was for dinner. Even drinking one of those already gives me a headache. But their marketing machine is working wonders, I guess, yet I do appreciate myself a real quality brew. And so do most of my friends, while some do think it is a bit stiff upper lip and how is your mum. Frankly, I do not give a shait, that is one nice thing about being on this third rock from the sun for more than half a century.
Best friends just know.
"Come on Coop, what is your burden, spill it man, I know you, something is eating you from the inside." Another nice brew is placed on the table in front of me by my mate. "What kind is it?", I do my best to destract, by putting the focus on the special beer. "It is a la Trappe double, from the tap, not a bottle, so cheers and start spillin'..." Yes, some spirit loaded water might help me to start talking. On the other side it might not. Because I really do not want to share this, it is even weirder than the bizare experience I had years before. "Man, I really do want to keep this inside, I just need some time to come at peace with it." A soft warm summer evening breeze blows softly by. It is twilight time. And my mind starts to wander off again. Am I really able to manage this all by myself?
"You know the episode I told you about, that happened to me years ago? The thing were it almost looked like I was trapped in an ongoing hallucination?" Darn, did I just start to spill...? He smiled and just nodded. "For me it was on of the weirdest things that ever happened to me in my whole life, so far." He looked up with a little shock, as if going to full attention and repeated: "So far...!?" Now what I was about to share with my good friend suddently did seem way less of a shocker. To me it was not, but for him, a good story ruined, an anti-climax. And me being scared that I would give away too much detail, to soup it up a bit, at least. Adding a sniff of salt to it here and there. Also in need of some diversions. Why did I even think about sharing this.
"Hi, sorry to disturb you, but the lady at that table, over there, asked me to offer you a drink.", a waitress came to my temporary rescue with this question. We both looked at the table where the dame was seated. Blond hair, tall, white summer dress, sun browned tan and a big friendly smile to match. She raised her glass, looked like she had the same brew we had. "What is she lip-syncing?", my mate asked as he turned his head around at me. "Oh, never mind, I can not read lip anyway.", I lied through my teeth. After I raised my glass, nodded and lip-synced: "Cheers!, I hand signed quickly "i", "know" with the sign for "smile". And finished it with a stroke with the back of my hand to my cheek and pointing at her after that very briefly. "What on earth are you doing...!?", he started laughing and shook his head: "Don't even tell me."
"It is nothing, I met her and her husband at a hotel when I was on a cryptos business trip recently. We got to talk at the bar, about sign-language, blockchains and stuff." And while I was explaining it to him, her husband came out off the pub, waved and took up his beer and said loudly: "Cheers, this is indeed a very nice one!" It was in Amersfoort, a beautifull city with a very old middle age center and canals. Somewhere in the center of Nederland, province of Utrecht. It was where I had a meeting with some investors and developers who wanted to start a Social Media platform on a blockchain. To be launched for the Nederish people mainly. We already decided what blockchain technology we were going to use. And it looked like we were able to pull it off, 2018, the launch of our own Nederish blockchain platform.
When I go on these kind of trips I do my best to avoid travel by car as much as possible. Anything is better than getting carsick in a little tin can being stuck in yet another traffic jam. While some driver is bragging about how fast it can go. And then when I start to laugh, the chauffeur shows no sense of irony at all by looking angry in the rearview mirror. No, no, I prefer train, when ever I can, where ever I am. And like a man that refused to grow up, I also choose the upper level in the double decker train. Just about a two and a half hour trip by train, from Winschoten to Amersfoort. In the meantime I can do some preparations. And when I go to an interesting place I always take a one or two days extra stay. Everything that is TAO (The Path) has both a Yin-Yang aspect to it, balance is important, I learned that the hard way.
"How did it go in Amersfoort by the way, can I invest already?", he said while our new filled glasses were brought over. "Let's first raise our glasses to them for good luck.", I said and so we did. In the meantime my mind started to wander off again, it does that as long as I can remember, so I am used to it. About 7 years ago that I had that psychedelic episode where I went totally numb for a long time. And then there was her. First a voice, later an image and finally I thought I had reconized her. All in this what seemed to be a magical realistic mind trip. That apparantly had gone on for days. With me going in sleep mode for that time. One moment waking up in bed, the next on the coutch in the living room. While it ended as abrupt as it started. Still do not understand what happened back then.
Je te le dis quand même...
In this magical realistic experience there is a central role for a song, it played in my head for a while. Only parts, repeating itself, over and over again, while I was trying to get some sleep. There were nights where it almost drove me crazy, dead tired, but no sleep. Freely translated this French songtitle, by Patrick Bruell, means: "I will tell you anyway..." And the lyrics end with what it is: "Je 't aime", or in English "I love you.". You know the thing a woman will wait for a man to say and he does not really know when to say it? Or he says it and it is very bad timed. When she'll say things like:"Not while I at the loo!" It holds quite a heavy load. Sometimes it is being said like: "Would you pass me the butter please, love?" And sometimes it will be done on one knee and is followed by: "Will you marry me."
The song is about breaking up though, in a manner that the couple first laughed about when others did it. And now they have become their own cliche in the flesh. Breaking up, but still in the end, maybe with a lot of doubt of doing the right thing, saying: "I love you." The whole magic realistic happening inspired me to do a painting about it. Thanks to Vincent van Gogh for a setting somewhere in Arles, France. It really helped me getting back to life in a linear movement forward again. "So, what gives, you had a story." My friend pulled me out off my mind wandering, back at the summer evening setting. "You know, it is not that big a deal, can we not forget about it?" That way I tried to divert this into another direction.
"So, it is about a woman.", he said in a laughing voice, while he put down his empty glass. "You make it sound like it is with a double layer, and it is not, there is no funny stuff going on!", I said while I looked over to the nice couple I met in Amersfoort. They had finished their beer and I signed the waitress to get them and us another round of the same. It can be nice to be a regular customer. "Oh come on man, you know I do not mean it like that. Just goofin' about a bit." Guess he was right, I was quite tenced because it had struck me kind of hard inside. And I had been struggling, on and off, with it for almost three years now. Kept it to myself all that time, because, well, it was like I was the only one that could ever understand it. And even then I kept myself in doubt. Wondering again if I had lost it.
"It was about half a year after that magical realistic mind trip episode that made me think I had gone totally bonkers.", I started the story carefully. Then paused because our third round of La Trappe Double arrived, and we raised our glasses to the couple at the other table: "To life!", I said outloud. "Yes, half a year after, go on, you know your story telling can be a real drag sometimes...", guess he was right, I could fill books this way and shout: "Fjodr, eat your heart out, I beat your Karamazovs, hands down, 2017 pages!" That made me laught outloud, that book, oh man, talking about draging a story. Anyway, my good friend was also my confidant, so what would be the worst thing that could happen if I told him... Ah well, here goes nothing.
The sun from within.
It was just another ordinary saturday evening, at the end of summer, almost three years back from the current here and now. And I had regained my path, or maybe I should call it routine. Almost had forgotten how long it had been since I lived on my own. Counting years, that is only what one does when in a relationship, not when it has ended, right? Day in day out, it all started to look alike, with autumn closing in, too much darkness to my liking. Groceries, almost daily, after most people are somewhere at home. Sometimes means there is no bread left, but no shouting inside my head, like all these people are going at me. Looking, staring, shouting, I know, it is all inside my mind. So therefore I prefer shopping when there are almost no other people around. Same for this time.
Almost half past 7, the store will close at eight. No list, because I want to keep my brain at the edge of sharpness. Loads of shopping carts outside to choose from, meaning that the supermarket will be as good as empty. That does make me feel a bit better. It is no fun when I feel numb to be at a crowded place. Half a year of a pretty boring life cycle where I did start to wonder if this was it. Squeeky wheels, of all cars, I had to choose the one with the wheel that wanders off. Strange how synchronicity reveals itself sometimes. Do not mind the crooked wheel, move forward anyway. And just before I get to the entrance of the Hamburg supermarket I stop. Without knowing why, there is something, but there is no one here... Ah well, must have been mistaken, carry on, let me get this over with.
Then at the first auto opening gate I experiece it again. Even stronger now, but it is inside, at least, I guess. Then half way the first and second gate it gains in strength, whatever it is. After a few seconds I just shake my head and move to the second and last gate. When I finally passed this last one the strange impression is extremely present and I come to a halt again. Next moment my head is drawn to the left. And there I look into the smile of a young woman. But she is far away at the other side of the store, at cashregister one. The weird thing being that it is as if I am hovering in front of here face, looking in her eyes up close. Only able to see her enchanting smile, as all the rest seems to have disappeared, blurred out off focus. What is going on...!?
The second I think that, I am back where I entered the store, holding on the bar handle of the shopping cart. It does take me some time to realize where I am right now. What just happened? Not that again! And instantly I think to know who she is. Is it really her from the past when I got ill and had those space-time travel hallucinations? She got angry with me sometimes, though still seemed to care for me all the time. It is hard to describe what this is, maybe I am part crazy, maybe we all are as human beings. And experiencing magical realism is my way of dealing with that? It could be that I need this to be able to cope with life, knowing I will lose this battle of ages. Still knowing my consciousness, soul, spririt or essence is eternal. Just like that beautifull being that I just have seem to connected with on another level. Is this quantum entanglement on a consciousness level?
Do we really need another drink?
"Such a powerfull story deserves an even stronger drink!", my mate has planted a whiskey in front of me. "Ah, the Oaldamster finest single malt!", I shout. It is the only local whiskey we have around here, and it is sure worth the price of 43 euro per half liter bottle. Here a single glass is going for 8 euro. No ice, but chilled whiskey stones. "Oh man, this is too much, we are so getting blootered!", but it does not matter, tomorrow my agenda is still empty. "Here's to gettin' drunk as a skunk dude!", he is standing up while shouting it out from the top of his lungs. Loud cheers, whistling and the occasional "hear, hear!", and I guess, yes, we are kind of getting pissed right out off our skulls. Maybe I should even stop telling my story? But, as if he can read my mind he is whispering like someone with more spirit in him, than in the bottle it came from: "Pssssss, do tell, who is she, is she real, do I know her, did you and her, you know, do the wild thing...?"
See, that is why I did doubt to tell this story at all. Because when with mates and the tale does include a kind being of the other gender, well, we tend to go a bit more neanthertaler style. No drumming on our chests right away, but that depends on the amount of booze that already went down the hatch. "Hey Bro, give me a break man, you know me better than that!", and I finish my drink at once after I said that. And immidiately I shout out to the waitress: "Misses, we need another round here, would you be ever so kind!?" For a brief moment I am aware of my somehow wobly body movements. Fog, I am gettin' drunk... Now where am I in the tale? Ah yes, the rude question about the angel like woman figure.
"No, man, you are not doing her any honor, let me continue!", and I moved forth with my story.
Yes, she was not anything like real, still there to be seen as a real young female human being. But there was something about her. The connection that I was unable to explain. And while I went on getting the groceries for that day I had a hard time getting my focus back. "Should I know who she is?", "Maybe she is mistaking me for somebody else?", but no matter what, I was still unable to explain the magical experience part. That part of mystical spiritual connecting, so peacefull, that was why I though she was not from this place and time. She really could be the one from back then, from the crazy psychotic period. With one exception. Here I was not jumping through different realities. This was the one known to me as the one true reality. But now she looked like real, she was real, like flesh and blood.
"Man, I almost had too much to drink, this is my last one and then I'm off to get back home.", I had stopped telling the story and gave him a friendly tap on his shoulder. And while I looked around me I saw how the audience had grown in numbers. There was a summer evening silence, and some did turn away from our table, almost as they should not have listened in on the story. Maybe I had been talking to loud, as I do tend to do when I had enough to drink. "Hi, my name is Coop and I am a lover of beer and whiskey!", this made even more of my audience turn away. "Bro, I realy have to take a wizz, beer you know and then I am heading back home, while I still can control my feet.", I said as I got up in a very concentrated way. "Oh no man, you are not leaving me hanging on that cliff again, you have a bad habit of doing so dude!", and he face palmed...
"Well, it did trigger your inside story maker now, did I not? You can be creative, fill in the blanks and maybe next time you can finish the story...", and I laughed while I took a detour towards the toilets, that appeared to be gender neutral, that was new to me. Buy hey, where that is going it is all combined as one, so why even bother to have it split up in the first place? After I had finished, washed my hands and returned outside I saw that my good friend his better half had joined him. From the looks that I noticed between them I reconized a long night ahead kind of atmosphere. Phew, saved by the bell, no need to continue the story, he'd forget about it soon. It is too bizarre anyway, and maybe it is just in my imagination. Yes, all of that was not real, my life is just back on routine, like it was before. Being alone or being lonely are two different things, really, I know that for sure. With an imagination like mine, never a dull moment in my entire life.
Time to go.
"It is my treat, had some very good crypto deals lately.", I stated while giving a high five to my good buddy and the love of his life. Paid the bill, leaving a nice tip for the kind waitress. Greated the friendly couple and my friends goodbye. And as I did my best to walk as straight as possible, heading back home I suddently felt a warm soft hand on my shoulder. "Don't look around, only listen to me." My heart pumped like crazy all the way up to my throat. "Sorry if I scared you, did not mean to.", her soft kind voice continued. "Oh, I recognize you anywhere, my dear, what gives?", again, me, wrong step, at the wrong time. But I hear her laugh and say at a soft tone: "You're drunk as a skunk and I still like you." As I try to turn around, I can feel how she stops me from doing so: "Please, only listen."
"Do you remember what you said to me back then?", she asked me in a calm manner. And as I sigh I reply: "Yes, of course I do, I told you farewell and that hurt real bad." She strikes through the little hair I still have left and continues: "Before that, about that you know you really know how to love unconditional when you can let go of the one you love the most." As she repeats these words I almost had forgotten I told her, I feel warm water flowing over my cheeks. "Me eyes are leaking, do not know why.", I joke to lighten up the atmos. "It's okay, mine do that too, or it is raining tepid salty water.", she always knew what to say, right away, left me speechless on many occasions.
And I continued: "I whish you a long, healthy and happy life, in prosperity and abundance, but most of all filled with pure love, farewell." There was a silence, exept the noise of the summer rain that had started to fall straight down. "That French song, remember? Where they break up? Still saying it...?", she says while her soft warm hand is on my shoulder again. "I love you.", I whisper. And while I feel her hand moving away from me, I hear her sofly reply: "I love you..."
Don't know how long I have been standing there, soaked all the way through by the pouring rain. Then remembered my dog still had to go on her daily evening round. The clocktower stroke twelve and I started to laugh out loud, while still tasting the salty water on my lips. Twelve midnight, how cliche... Never looked back and went straight back home. Thinking about how I want to believe it is really true that the ones we love the most are the ones we are willing and able to let go, in the name of love.
And I still will say it...
Note: This is a story from "Children of the Moon - part two" by Oaldamster.
Any thought of a possible recognition of equalities with existing persons and/or situations are based solely on convergence of circumstances.
Edit: text corrections.