Paul Auster, Travels in the scriptorium
There comes a moment in which you discover that you needn't do anything extra.
This moment, slowly but surely, leads into discovery of the amount of extra you actually perform.
Then you realize that you don't need to do a lot of stuff you THINK makes a difference but actually only makes it more complicated.
And then you become shit scared of this new thing - you don't really know how to approach it.
For a moment you feel super passive, almost as if you are not in CONTROL of your own life. (And one just HAS to be in control, no?)
And then, just about as you are ready to loose your mind and like totally freak out -
a moment of pure beauty unfolds right here and now.
A moment of clarity, like no other.
The answer, glowing like a genuine Holy Grail.
The next thing you know you are gliding.
All looks the same, but somehow sill just a little bit different.
Naturally, you do still see the echo of your habits resonating in the space. The new thing is that you find it very light to forgive yourself and continue gliding.
Possible side-effects:
- one becomes more attentive to people smiling.
- stress stops being a word one recognizes in one's vocabulary
- a general feeling of lightness tends to take over and happiness rests calmly on the bottom of the well, supporting, always there.
- light becomes sparkly
***
I wish to balance this text with a bit of pessimism.
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