From heaven to hell in a week. A week which seems like a month to my mind, which feels like a year to my body.
One week for the heart to fall in love and get itself broken to pieces.
I feel like I've been in a war, literally. So drained, not an ounce of anything left in my mind, heart or body. Just a knowledge that once again I've survived a hurricane.
What is left is silence. No opposites.
No desire.
No desperation.
No joy and no sadness. Pure emptiness.
Of course its so much nicer to get to the void by our own will, whether by letting go or meditation. But the madness that love and passion can be, the destruction it can do to us- will get you there as well. Crushed by my crush- but still ending up in the emptiness. Why not, I guess.
I also guess that the extreme passion I've just experienced perhaps has no other place to end. One extreme walks together with its counterpart. And the counterpart of passion is not heart-break- it's peace and complete stillness. From a point of view of how it feels- to be in love and to be in heart-break- doesn't really even have any difference. In its end it's still the same continuous heightened pulse, loss of appetite and sleep, obsessive thinking about only one person. Ok- so there is pain, where before was anticipation and longing- twins to my mind. Passion is perhaps just a form of pain, from beginning to end, and its certainly a type of madness. :) Where does it come from and why we have it from the first glances with some and thankfully very few... it's one of the great mysteries. I guess it has to exist in a world where the opposite also exists, in a world where most of the helloes already mean goodbyes. Passion is perhaps the epitome for this crazy world where we all drift by each other, rarely making connections.
Oh the hurricanes of the heart, the thunders of feeling!
When I sit right now on my balcony, and watch the sky, also silent at this moment, only one huge cloud suspended in stillness- I am at peace. I know that this is the true reality. Nothing is there to hurt us or to make us happy. We do this ourselves.
When for a change we are empty, our feelings silenced, our egos evaporated- everything is just there.
And its beautiful. It's all just there, we are just there.
Only a breathing.
Only some music.
And perhaps poetry...
Compensation- Emily Dickinson
For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy.
For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years,
Bitter contested farthings
And coffers heaped with tears.
For each ecstatic instant
We must an anguish pay
In keen and quivering ratio
To the ecstasy.
For each beloved hour
Sharp pittances of years,
Bitter contested farthings
And coffers heaped with tears.