Tuesday, November 13, 2007

From the diary of Anaïs Woolf

I woke up in the middle of the night. For me this is very strange. I never ever have trouble with sleep, only rarely when I have something on my mind that troubles me. But now I wasn´t weighed down by anything anymore, I felt so clear. I was looking with different eyes. And not metaphorically, it was how it felt, the skin around my eyes tingled with a new sensation. My brain felt different, the thoughts were not clouded by emotion, I was just silky clear and crisp. I don´t think I have ever felt that clear in my entire life. I was reborn from a painful birth of an existencialistic crisis, coming out in the other end with new eyes.

It didn´t even frighten me, this new existence, as it maybe should have. I felt like I had grown up to a different level. Maybe going where I had before feared, loosing a part of my childhood in the steps. Laying the old tears behind me flooding my footprints, then slowly dispursing into the sand. And while seeing this, I relaized that none of the child in me was lost, just more of the adult gained, no actually found again - but from where I don´t know.

It was like being on a desolate island, looking over the ocean, for miles and miles watching the sea stretch out, sensing its loneliness, yet not being alone. I was in peace with myself. Clear, alone, strong. Not a strength called upon from outside to fill within. A strength that just shone through me. A stillness as the bottom of the sea, dancing softly in tangerine and silvery fish. So dark, so warm, so, so, so still and tender this silent strength of mine. It must be something I have always carried.
Don´t misunderstand me, I have felt many kinds of strenghts within myself...but only once this one, and then just in a flash.
It was patience, endurance for anything, stillness in the mind and emotion. it was observation, acceptance of it all.
Where did it come from?
It answered itself out of nothingness.
Strangely as it may sound - I was reborn within myself.

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