Mon ami m'a suggéré les Nuits de Manouche de Paris ...

.. something else..:

I believe, us men, we're quite egocentric. Well, maybe, you and you, or him and even him are an exception, but in general? I mean, in the western general man...?

Well, however, even if you guys out there are all quite nice, I consider myself to be quite egocentric. Well, that is not necessarily bad, I agree. There's also some strengh in being able to know ones ideals. Or in separating what otherwise might be touched by someone that maybe could not share. Also, this is what I maybe don't know, borders - limits - are said to be important.

Still, just now, I had a second of relief in admitting that I like to be adored. That I have no own approaching of quality in life but trying to mean something. Not because I have an own appreciation, but "meaning something" is (seems to) be worth all appreciation. Quite an empty consideration, this, don't you think? And not quite egocentric, hum?

It's not easy, at least, for such a man, like me, to admit what he was striving for. To be a man that stops, maybe, even, if he can, with wanting to be hero of other such men, hunting for some kind of appreciation. Why can we not - easily - be appreciated for and in what really is interesting for us? I still struggle in finding this real interest, so being-"convinced" the hunters made me of hunting.

Now, what, maybe whom to care for?

I think, if we become true fathers, we have known more, because I think true fathers even know how to care for those that are beyond their true family. There's no outside, then, no?

However, the egocentric man has borders.
So, let's begin here. I admit ...

Die vielfältigen Nichtfehden meiner Sprache erregen keinen Anstoß unter den Gleich-Sinnigen.

*Hust*

Man kann sich an Sprache regelrecht verschlucken, wohl nicht aber an wohlfeilen Inhalten.

Kurz: Zum Text.

Am Ende des Tages wieder Suchend im 2.0, und in der Meinung "Menschen zu fischen". Man könnte eine Unzahl von Menschen mit Impulsen versorgen, wobei Sie einen an Ihre Aha-Erlebnisse hin-assoziieren, als hätten Sie keine eigene Gegenwart (hier).

Das erinnert mich an mich selbst, wo ich mir die Arme einer Liebsten um meinetwillen herwünschte. Die Wahrheit? Ich bin lieber alleine.

Wer's glaubt...

Tja, manchmal muß man nur an sich selber glauben!

Die Brüderlichkeit des Kurs in Wundern schlägt zu und wird persönlichkeitlicher. Ich kann viel leichter auch Enttäuschungen und Desinteresse als "legitime" Äußerung einer kollegial-anerkennbaren Person annehmen. "It's part of the play".

Meditationen, segenbringende, immer zwischendurch. Morgen bitte nicht zu spät auf Arbeit kommen. Heute bitte noch einmal Liebe machen.

Visionen der Einfachheit (Sichselbstzeigen), Unverfälschtheit, Tiefe. Das Anerkennen dessen, was mein Durchschnittsfellow hier noch nicht in mir erkennen kann - Souveränität auf den meisten geistigen Ebenen, gemessen an der Spiritualitäts-Awareness der Fellows. So verspeecht übrigens nur, weil ich gerade spielerisch herausfinde, wieviel (mehr) Sinn in einer eigen-bewußten Verwendung von Sprache transportiert werden kann...

Mehr Einfachheit - so beschließen wir, weiterzugehen ... wir müssen schließlich mit der Komplexität in Abwesenheit systemtreuer Lanonandeks klarkommen... ich habe ja das Gefühl, sie werden in nicht ganz unnaher Zeit auf den Plan treten ... :-)

Aber warten wir's ab, überlegen wir, was in unserem Leben ("bis dahin?") wichtig ist. Ugh! Diese Begeisterung für Dinge jenseits der (volleren) Realität. (Diese Fellows! Was soll man bloß mit ihnen anfangen!) Noch fünf Stunden Schlaf. Ich sollte zugreifen, bevor der Hammer fällt!

What to write if all "the old things" are hardly digested? My tummy is warm. I think of R. Strange, I think of her the day in that she might possibly have turned around from me.

(The same procedure as every two years... [That is the time of an average relationship with me, so it seems])

Today, I hardly feel like writing. Feelings are thick, like fluid. Creativity needs to be aligned, settled down. The water is clear after the sand has sunk.

Things get more logical in the purest ease of intution, the mental grasp of the over-absolute truth of love; grasping something without love does now know what it missed previously...

Hardly any energy "left" at the end of the day. A "short day", I was home at 5 p.m. Uh, where's time? Anyway, I must have used it. I just woke up in the bath tub (cool song title, by the way).

When I was away with the women, again, in my mind, to find some place for my lonely heart, Mum called. We had a very rich talking, when I would not have expected it. She sent me back to meditation after all the years and I was incredibly happy to find such original steps of development in her. Incomparable.

R. sent pictures she drew herself. Still trying to make / keep me bound. Not easy for her. No way of true reply, anyway. She feels that it is exactly her honesty that would make her lose me. So, she wants it the very slow way. Nothing I can do; The more I try, The more she drinks my effectless trying. But she's already sick of soaking my blood. Difficult situation. Still, some true love there, while the only way out is being true to our different natures, I guess, for both of us.

Some other women-thoughts: Loving someone so much (S.), that I allow to let go the idea of a partnership, when it would be lower than a friendship.

Saw a couple making love in true favour of each other. Wow!

Again I think of - patting on my back - one of the more important thoughts of the last hours. The hygiene of the spirit, and of that place, and the care for that place, where I think to feel that the adjuster comes in.

I do think that the Urantia-Fellowship largely seems to consist of people "also" less aware of the inner equivalents of terms such as Indweller or Mystery Monitor. Honestly observing myselv, however, I have to admit that my understanding is vague, while my intuition of my correctness seems to be very high. I still wonder about this difference between "knowing of the adjuster" and "knowing of the adjuster". I'd like to talk with people being sure about him (possibly "Adjuster-Fusion-Candidates"), and at the same time I have a funny kind of fear that this might destroy something of the (non-)illusive world with the help of which I could create my picture of a being that knows "how to see beyond rebellion as a loner".

A young, but somehow experienced mother came to ask who's so agressively using the vacuum cleaner at 10 p.m. The only thing making noise at my floor is the computer. I imagine the natural noise level of the computer to be that of a hoover (well, to appear completely, I'd have to add that some people think that sometimes there might not be a difference). However, the lady does not deserve even only one of these noises. When a baby gets awake at that precious moment where the mother could need some rest, my jokes are fully out of place. I wish I had even more understanding of how to support young mothers, but I am trying to achieve it. I suggested her to knock at the neighbours wall (after I was not the right neighbour) to fight for her rights. Maybe I am too soft, when every young mother makes me want to hug her. Maybe I should imagine more of those myths of snarling and baring-their-teeth-husbands. Ah, friends, in modern european language, excuse me, boyfriends. Well, no, sorry again. Her husband is really sweet. I think that they are a really fine couple. I like them, actually, and I feel some sort of relief in the feeling that I do not only like her *phew* ...! :-)

There it was again, the other miracle I was thinking about.
A relationship!

S. stopped by at my place, while I was sitting outside in the early evening, we had a little talk until her son came. Sometimes I need to take care to really listen to her, when I look into her face. Also funny, how the person I really am would take much more time to be with her eyes, while the person I "appear to be like" nods and says some almost-intelligent thing. Hehe.. here I try to laugh about myself, a little more even trying not to hurt me with laughing :-)

*Sigh*

A diary is sooo healthy. And its ears are so sensitive. Sometimes I could imagine how it would be, if I tried to be so sensitive to a friend like a diary is to me. Is there something like over-adapting? I mean, do I not risk much of that I adapt so much like noone is turning adapting back to me? Or is this a matter of beginning?

I want to wander off the topic another time...

(After telling that, because of being too lazy (joyful), I had the feeling of having dry skin, hands, helping myself with some tea :-) ..)

... well, I just wanted to write some words of that this warm feeling in my tummy is something asking me to "follow its antennas" ... where are its sensors?

The positive of the Job today was that I could really begin and end in time, almost. I had some "true free resources" (wow: TFR's) by just beginning in time. Hehe, however, there's a new EU-stress factor (EU referring to stress-streams in the context of globalization, har har): All these meticulous just-on-time patients are also already sitting there, when I come out. So, no time won? I love translating idioms seemingly not-so-very-correctly: The devil is sitting (very comfortably) in the detail ... ;-)

Something negative was that I just forgot to send an email to the boss when I returned home, while I promised to do so.

When I disposed the waste late in the evening, there was still light at S. and A.'s flat. I even thought I could recognize a female voice telling a story. Yesterday I discovered that on the east side, at night, one can hear the crickets...

Nothing is so secure like the own inner place to think, to process.

What's "on the screen" tonight? Coming over an illness, feeling what it could mean to really (!) .... (!!).... have a partner :-)

The well meant pat on the back of my father to take time makes, at least, some more sense.

I feel words to become the fastes tools for expression, almost adequate expression (the expressed becoming as equivalent as possible to what it is aiming to refer to).

Careful family thoughts. Not yet in that boat that can swim, but healingly well, somehow.

What was I learning the last days?

• Something about how good it feels to work (live) for the things you really want
• Something about that family is the circle of loved ones among that I actually MAY (have to) be myself
• About that copying behaviours has (may have) a limited use
• Something about sociophobia
• Something about that it can feel good to be honest to "past persons" in my life
• About how good it feels to give up everything that costs to much power to uphold (the funny sentence to add..: "...when you're ill" :-) ...)
• ... and more

Feels good to write again. Need to find the CD for Anne. Thinking of my grandfather and his writing of diary. I send out a quick prayer to be healthy tomorrow morning... ugh! :-)

A lovely chaos in my room. A long day tomorrow! Starting at 9.00, having to leave at 7.30, that makes getting up at 5.30 to latest 6.00 ...Good night, fellow!

wie ich gesehen werde
wie ich bin
wie ich mich sehe

dies sei eines

Nun, es ist keine Kunst, sich schnappen zu lassen, als legärer und vorgegebenerweise gutsichkleidender Mann, von einer Frau mit eigenem Dünkel.

In einer solchen Beziehung aber Glück zu suchen, ist wahrlich nicht nur eine Kunst, sondern auch eine Glaubenssache.

Man muß mit etwas Vorliebe feststellen, daß es Menschen gibt, denen daran liegt, andere an sich glauben zu lassen: Dies bedeutet ihnen etwas wie Nahrung, Seelenunterhalt. Ein Glücksucher, wohlgemerkt, kein Glückfinder, ist gerade das rechte Opfertier, über das so eine Beute sich freut.

Gesetzt nun dem Fall, daß auch der Mann, oder, wie man will, die Frau, sei's an ihrer Beute oder dem heimlichen eigenen Suchen und Leiden eine Freude empfindet, eine masochistische, unrealistische, verzweifelte und eigentlich gar keine rechte Freude - scheint diese Freude fast als das noch einzige, was so eine leidige Beziehung and die leidige Hoffnung des anderen koppelt. Möge sich einer öffnen, sich entwickeln, möge der andere nicht gehen? Nun, wer weiß? Am Zuge ist wohl doch stets der Andere?

Wie auch immer, die beiden Helden der beiden eigenen Geschichten, die sich ergeben, wo beide gesunde Wege gehen, scheint beleuchtet: Der eine läßt sich ausbeuten, der andere nimmt ihn als Ersatz für eine Ehrlichkeit gegenüber der eigenen Pein. Der eine ist dumm genug, im Leiden sein Wohl auf diese zartschmerzliche Weise zu suchen, der andere hofft, daß stets Blut genug zu saugen bleibt und ermuntert jenen noch bei seiner Suche, kommt er sich selbst dabei nicht zu nahe; da werden auch einmal Fährten gelegt, wenn nicht gar eigene, heimliche Hoffnungen gehegt, die einen Schatten vorwegwerfen, auf eben die eigene heimlich sich gerade schon einsehende Täuschung.

Fragt einer danach: Der große Rückzug. Das große Verleugnen, das Prinzipienwinken, die Fahne, das Reich der Herrlichkeit, sei's drum!

Nur selbst nicht zu sich stehen: Zu seinem eigenen Wunsche, zu seiner eigenen Verletzlichkeit; Zu jenen Orten, die da eigentlich der Liebe bedürfen, und niemand sieht sie, weiß, auf sie zuzugehen, sie zu trösten, anzunehmen, ihnen ihr Licht zu erhellen.

Aber, aber!

Wer sich hier abwendet, vom anderen, das ist der Ausgenutzte, wann immer auch beide sich in eine Symbiose der Opfer begeben haben, der eine Opfer seiner selbst, der andere Opfer des anderen, und sogar auch noch Opfer seiner selbst, denn er ließ dies ja zu.

Denn der Ausnutzende wird schwerlich die innere Reumut ergreifen und voller Hurra sich in den Dialog begeben, gestehen und nach Herzenskraft das Verletzliche Lieben, was die Ausnutze und das Blutgesauge erst möglich machte.

Der Ausgenutzte ist es, der geht. Seine Unabhängigkeit - der einz'ge Lehrer der Opfer ihrer selbst, der einzige. Mit Worten kann man keine Brücke bauen, wenn sie nicht gedankenlos gesprochen sind, vom Längstüberwundenhabenden - glaubt man's.