On Anna or Why do we read?

“It's like Tolstoy said. Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.”

Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

So you read because so many have done it before you. It is a big read. Heavy. It is most comfortable to sit while reading it. The size doesn't make it, what could be considered - a comfortable read. Bed is out of the question. You rather sit in a big, soft chair, a sofa or your living room couch.

You have heard so much about it that the name gives you goose-bumps but so far you have no personal connection to her. Somehow, you feel the greatness of her image but you yourself haven't met her yet. And so, you do.

And it all goes well, when sweet or sour. You let go and are sucked in.

You see how it demands attention. It is impossible to let go. You give in.

You start wanting it when it's not close and you forget about your life, it is about her now.

And this whirlpool spins and spins, round and round. Like a big, shiny carousel on a hot summer night. Like cotton sugar, ice cream and melted chocolate that sticks to your finger which you then cover with your lips and just let it dissolve into your system. You close your eyes while you do that and celebrate the moment of pure beauty.

And then the train and you freeze but it is not the moment. She somehow ended up taking the train instead. And this is not what you have expected. But then you have no time to think your way out of this confusion when there she is, decision made and her neck so fragile.

The final blow is the moment when she changes her mind. And you follow.

The sudden realization brings her back to consciousness and presents the points of views that were not available before since she is who she is and any other way would be just wrong. And for that her life is taken away from her. By another's decision. Actually.

At the end of the day, it is only a work of fiction.

...that was read by so many.

“Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family are unhappy in it's own way.”

Lav Nikolajevič Tolstoj, Ana Karenjina

The seed of a peach three - A short story

There happened a moment in time and space that nobody could explain, not even the little boy that has been eating a ripe peach in the middle of the road on a snowy January afternoon.

As he was biting into the peach the boy thought about the break in time and space continuum and thought about relativity of it all - when all fell silent. He didn't give it a second thought - instead he took another bite and listened to the birds that were flying through the hot air of a sunny morning in the Central Park. He said hello! to the old lady that was feeding the birds with the old bread her husband tenderly stores for he knows how much she appreciates the moment of freedom she imagines the birds feel when they spread their wings and fly away, free, anonymous and

careless - after having eaten for the first time in what might have possibly been - years. She looked at him before he turned his head and took a couple of steps through the water. Biting into the peach he admired the view over the endless rice fields. There were men and women working in the fields under the heavy grey sky. The silence was caressing his ears. There were no birds here.

He closed his eyes and dived into the silence with his mind. In this state he could feel the change when it happened. He opened his eyes to see he was standing on a sand beach and that there is no end to the sea, the calm, deep, blue sea. Taking in all the beauty he bit into the core of the peach, which took him by surprise.

Looking down the road, he smiled - and ran home.

He was just in time for dinner.

On artistry or How to claim your space and time

“If you want him, come and claim him!”

Peter Jackson's Lord of the Rings, the Fellowship of the Ring

You come on stage and do something that nobody else can do. But more than that - finding it inside your self - what is it that I can do that no body else can do?

Technique is something all can achieve, one way or another, it “only” takes hard work and discipline. But then the big test comes. You use your technique for your artistry.

And what the fuck does that mean?!

I do understand the meaning of the words and the meaning of the whole sentence, but the focal point of my research here is the relationship between myself and myself, myself and the crowd, myself and my life, my life and my art.

These are all thoughts in process...

Because at this moment I gather the last couple of months of my life that will soon fulfill it's 21st year of existence which lead to this question -

WHAT - IS - MY - ART?!

And the answer to this question, how ever much I didn't really like to confess is

I - HAVE - NO - FUCKING - IDEA.

I have a lot of clues.

A lot of small opinions, small ideas that I would eventually like to realize, but not at all enough experience in the creative process of - creating - to be able to point at something and say - yes, this is mine. This is what I want to say.

Nothing that I have made so far has hit the point so clearly that I can bet my life on it - and this feels strange to say, for I did believe I made stuff I would be able to bet my life on...

There are traces of ideas that I can trace through basically all the work I have ever made.

And as I see how my work is developing, looking back like 7 years, I can see what I am interested in and I can also understand what I am interested in and why.

But I reacher a point of just waking up on a regular Wednesday and saying - ok, this has to stop. It's all or nothing as from now.

No compromises any longer.

No compromises as in I will not longer use the technique to practice technique but rather to search how do I want to use the technique to discover myself within something else that is not closed within walls of my mind.

And ok, it didn't just dawn upon me on a regular Wednesday. The thoughts have been gathering for a while now, but you think and you try to put the pieces together, then you “give up” and then you let them be - and puff, one day it makes sense.

The way of seeing the world started to change, I have to say.

Because it is no longer satisfying enough to make the yoga position happen, and then just because you can hold it that it makes you satisfied. Every asana becomes a whole different universe that turns your insides upside down.

And what a difference does it make in let's say holding a balance - for this balance is not only a balance of a dance step, it is a balance of your peace inside you that eventually makes it possible to stand on the demi point while doing God knows what with the rest of your body.

And yes, it is not this simple or banal.

It is then that you say - SHIT. I know so much. I have this ridiculous amount of facts stored within the grey mush we tend to call BRAIN but what am I doing with that?! How is it helping me - OR NOT - to live my life?

And this is the scary part I discovered.

It is not helping.

Or, if you look at it in a different way, it is.

It is helping me to hide and to fire back facts and technique whenever I feel compromised and not safe.

And I choose not to hide any longer.

In the end I choose to jump, whether I have a parachute - or not!

P.