A cage, a rib, a damn rib-cage

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Here it is beating. I don’t hear it though, neither feel it. Impossible. It’s becoming bigger and bigger and bigger than my own cage. A cage, a rib, a heart, an explosion. Way too big. Happiness knocking on the wall of my cage with no reasons… but a question… How come? The happiness list is there, most items unchecked… and happiness is here, definitely checked. What next? For the shards of my heart’s explosion, no available recipients! For the brain behind it, no available reasons! For the personalities of my multiple disorder, no sense to make of it! Bigger and bigger and bigger, and louder, stronger, challenging. Can’t keep it together, can I? This dialogue with the unknown and a rib-cage too small.

Too big for my own cage

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Here it is beating. I don’t hear it though, neither feel it. Impossible. It’s becoming bigger and bigger and bigger than my own cage. A cage, a rib, a heart, an explosion. Way too big. Happiness knocking on the wall of my cage with no reasons… but one request… surrender! Sadness never takes it all this way. Sadness is known territory, always content with a familiar light, a thread to hang onto… Thread of hope? Thread of despair? Thread of hanging there? But a known thread… Happiness takes it all. No prisoner. A decisive unknown asking for all you’ve got. All the trust you hold onto.

It’s about the breathing

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Another Thursday evening and I am heading to the lake. Last week it was -1˚C air temperature, and 6˚C water temperature, my body about 37˚C, hum… It’s not about the cold, it’s all about the breathing, about the listening of the rhythm of the heart and somewhere it’s all about connecting with my own heart, its own strength. Slowing down movement to strengthen it? Slowing down movement to give it some spring, like the horse collecting before a jump?

A heart beating

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A heart, beating slowly with the rhythm of the wind; a heart for my tired soul murmuring softly, still with the wind; A heart in a city, bathed in the smell of a pine tree, the leaves as thin as a caress. Time has stopped, but the moment is here very present and strong. It is now “the moment of the garden in the city”.