den schlüssel in der hand

wo immer auch
die gabe blüht
sie muß bewußtheit werden

die hand in des
geliebten schoß
himmel im aug
auf erden

nun blicke auf
mein scheues du
mach tore auf und türen

lasse auf tod und teufel dich
komm raus
lasse dich führen

Sitzen

nach Liebe mit Dir
obwohl Du nicht da warst

und ein trockener Qualitätswein aus Baden
auf meinem Tisch
leer

Zufriedenheit, und ein unendlicher Lebenshunger
Es tut gut, mit Dir zu sprechen
auch wenn Du nicht ruhig bist

Wir haben uns doch gefunden
irgendwo

Es ist ein süßes Attentat, den eigenen Willen als Zugabe zum Unvermeidbaren zu tarnen.

Eigentlich fühlen wir nunmehr, was wirklich uns beseelt, und wie untrennbar unsere Selbstständigkeit in einer bisher kaum unselbstständigen Welt sich regt, bewegt, um bald aktiv zu sein ohne Vergleich auf der logarithmisch steigenden Kurve.

Eine Kapitulation gegenüber den Kompromissen, die keine gewesen wären: Eine Hingabe an die Liebe, die sich nun nicht mehr verstecken muß.

Ich gebe auf.
Auch ich schaue aber auf Dein Ziel.
Wir werden uns gewahr, und uns.

Mein Freund und Helfer in diesem Fall: Die Bundeszentrale für Politische Bildung.

Es ist so schwer, sich wirklich zu entspannen. Die Entscheidung, sich zu entspannen, ist als sozial-bewußte Entscheidung noch kaum aufmerksamkeitserfahren oder möglichkeitsbewußt.

Mir ist fast unwohl dabei, mich bei anderen Dingen zu entspannen, als ich mir unter Entspannung vorstelle. Gestern am Tisch, Brot, Käse, Wein, Musik und Albereien. Die südländische Zukunft meines Deutschlands. Was mich an ein Gespräch erinnert über die freundliche Nichtganzsodisziplin der Schweden.

Aber wie nun komme ich zu meinem Seelenurlaub?

Wieder und wieder möchte ich Listen schreiben, der Dinge die ich gern tue. Und eigentlich tue ich eine Menge Dinge gern, kann sie wahrhscheinlich, aha, das scheint es zu sein, aber nicht (oder kaum) genießen, weil einem schon das kleine Zeitteufelchen im Nacken sitzt, das sagt "Ja, genieß es noch, du hast noch 23 Minuten Zeit dafür!".

Da möchte ich also festhalten, daß es auf die mir wohltuenden Tätigkeiten genauso ankommt wie auf die Erlaubnis an die freie Zeit, sich als solche auszuteilen und fühlbar zu machen. Das ist eigentlich eine Meditation werden.

Ach, und übrigens; Dies hier schreiben ist inhaltlich und in der Art und Weise schon eine valide Form des Seelenurlaubs, finde ich; Wenn auch eher auf dem Wege als "am Rastplatz".

If I had money, I could fly to Romania.

Now, that I have no money, let's spend a lifetime to get some.

How to sell myself, getting money?

In a way I even can appreciate?

How to do what I want?

What do I want?

I wanna fly to Romania.

Those truly spiritually successful did have a mindal capacity and a social understanding of their people.

It is beautiful to believe that the american president, Barack Obama, is acting in those thoughts that are practically necessary in order to stand for spiritually wise politics. Bush, Cheney and Associates are in inner anticipation of such wisdom, I guess.

So, this gives me the feeling of how difficult and how official (officially necessary) it is to "stand up" for (act in) "the right kind of philosophy", convergent in (spiritually) evolutional truth.

For me, it is not easy to express what I want to make clear to myself here, I want to try again: The Interface of the spiritual world with (towards) the actual self-perception(s) of whole nations and people is maybe the real stage on which to play our play on.

So, developing spiritual ideas in meditation and contemplation - finding the Self in God - is only one part of "bringing together Heaven and heaven". The Course helps the feeling to truly accept and sense this world as the place of our heavenly activity.

Woran liegt es, wenn ich nach all den Jahren noch immer den suche, der in mir zu den "Anderen" durchdringen will.

Was für eine Art von "Farce" ist es, wenn ich den stillen Vorwurf - die beginnende Einsicht - daß meine Mitmenschen sich den inneren / höheren Wahrheiten nicht stellen können - einfach nicht überwinde ... ? Mit etwas Phantasie ist es doch die starke innere Stimme, die mich zu den ersten, einzigen und wenigen zählt, die für "die Welt, die kommt" werben, weil sie ihre Realität erkennen, nicht weil sie einem blinden Religionismus unterworfen sind.

Mama ruft an und erklärt mir die Welt.

Die Gesellen sind nach und nach abgezogen. Ich mochte Almuth und Ana Lysa sehr.

Filigree re-repercussions upon love-echoes, original voices.

Original voice.

Claim I to be you?

The depth of inner communication does not seem to be able to be shared with those fellows available here. Do I call out into the depths of the net to enhance my vision of friends as able (inside) communicators?

I do seriously know those beings present as the Seraphim guiding me and the Father fragment indwelling me. Here, I experience sight that I with all hope search for in my honest fellows. But how can they (not) know? Oh, what a desaster has the rebellion brought to us!

Now, when I try to find lovers and a partnership, one lover, and a being together, hardly anything of these true realms can be shared. A fascinating phenomenon; that I, even on request, cannot give up what is existential.

So, my natural reaction is just to "give up" those sweet ones that cannot / do not share. To be left with these inside worlds only? Well, that it feels hard does not feel so bad, because at least, it feels true. But it is a struggle indeed.

Now, when I hope for a lover that cannot give clear signals by nature (you cannot truly mate to something that you feel is beyond your borders - because you feel that you cannot share what "is not present") - I have to draw back into the superposition of equality; the equivalent act of co-feeling brotherhood. Silent, with some help for the curious.

What is this action like that strives to come up: to express the limits of the circumcised world view in that I am estimated and so very carefully judged? Oh, drama, what patience do you need! Not exchange is possible, it is the new work of Sisyphos: the Stone will not come down, but the speed is as slow as a series of lifetimes not to count in but one lifetime.

Now, in this lifetime, we will have a culmination of understanding; something unjudgeable for us, the less-experienced. Something hardly judgeable for those fellows active in the higher realms. Even the understanders, knowing "the material", hardly have those deeper inner insights; and I still miss much of that, but I love it, very very deeply. It is my lifesign in a world of potential life.

How not to become cynical and sarcastic in a world of so much spiritual disorientation? How to be sharing with those that want to convince you of what you already believe in, even deeper than them? How?

Just so, like Sisyphos, the New Sisyphos: slowly, very slowly - in their pace.

This is, what allows us, maybe, by respect, to follow our own pace, inside: a sign of liberation, of true self-awareness. I have my own pace... too ;-)

Phew!

What occupied me - occupies me - ... is a wonderful relationship that could not go on evolving, from a certain point. Seems that it "can not" go on evolving, from where we are now? I try to be clear here. Always I have loved, looooved the form of diary to get to know my issues here. We had so much special moments and a beautiful time, even if we saw so little, and even if there was... no talk. There was no boredom with her, and no bothering. We both felt gentle, and it was... a relief... to give up many of our hesitations in a way that the other could comfort.

Now, a feeling comes up in me: it is called "but". I don't like "but"-sentences, but :) I have to speak them. I like buds more, rosebuds. But...

[ She did not answer my questions. Some I posed repeatedly. The word evasive relates to her. This hurt me, it really hurt me.

She could reply: I don't intend to hurt you. I could believe her. But ... she still did not answer my questions. I posed another question ... ]

In here, without irony, you find the vicious circle that I made myself being in. I do not want to decline responsibility. I don't want to say "but". I want to find a way.

I am finding a way. I try to understand how things happen, to decide how I can coordinate me and them, and initiate new rections, concepts, actions, to our dialogue, to my dialogue with others, and maybe, to new dialogues.

By the way, how should I be using commas in written English?

Certainly, this is just a very low level, compared to what I want to talk about. And what to do, if talking is not the medium. What to do, if not even writing may be the medium. What, if English is not even... our true language?

I am getting too philosophic. Let's get back to the two. The couple. The maybe-couple. Me. How can I help us?

If I see that she possibly cannot be the person that I do want to "get old" with, I should not feed her hopes. If she does not react to the offers I can give out, repeatedly, my repetition would become force - not the basis for a relationship.

At a certain point, my interest in her might not be (or have been) on the basis of a (possible) relationship anymore. In a (even in a healthy) withdrawing from the couple-ness of us, I must see this as a possible action, even if it is not my "wish of hope".

But is hope just the simple yearning of a baby boy for everything to be perfect? Or is hope the sincere faith, the inner knowledge, that her spirit is autonomous enough to join "our" way of communication, which could be "ours" for both sides... in a certain time, however, not "in the long term"? I have to be critical about myself. I easily paint things a way they cannot be; it is not my competency to co-illustrate the views of others more than in fair and functioning mutual conversation.

Again: If I am critical now, what kind of a chance does our relationship have?

When you made me interested in you, you suddenly withdrew. The basic unhappiness about you is that I "am not allowed by you" to communicate to you. This leads to frustration. And you never say "why", when you must feel that you act in an ununderstandable way to me. You say sorry, eventually, or attack me "back" when I just stated my view, without wanting to attack you. But there is no change in the substance.

Now: If I am critical, what chance does our relationship have? I am beating about the bush. It is not useful to say: You do this, you do that. Why did you do that? There are no answers. There - we have nothing in common. You maybe said nothing, because there is no communication between us, there (where it was important to me), And if there's no communication where it was important to me, there may have been "only" communication being important to you, or, maybe, in some phases, no communication at all.

Then, where did we have communication?
When did it feel like we're together? When you gave me books you liked. When you gave me a picture you made. When I could decipher one of your non-talking symbols (and still, more riddles where to come at this point: so, a little happiness followed by a little pain, again, already). It felt good to feel you're opening. It felt good how we both were shy togeher. It felt good to see your eyes before I looked down. It felt good when you admitted things you would do next time, to prevent a crash: to talk to me. It felt good when you said you would sing that song for me. It felt good to feel some presence in your absence.

Now... where do we go?
You?
Me?

What feels good... feels good for the moment. It feels good because it is close to coming out. If it would stay this way all the time.. I could not endure it. If it would open up ... continuously ... I'd be in the boat. So, if it would stay good. If I felt that a certain level of openness is reached continuously - and I also mean, an openness of you towards yourself (because this is what I also bear with myself, and also all my joy with you cames from here) - then, I can imagine us to be together. Then, I am ready to have not the faith of a weak boy, wanting a relationship with you, but the faith of a man, wanting to be at the side of his wonderfully creative, consistently open woman.

What must you see in me, when you do not keep stick to my inner eyes, to continuously dive into me, pervade me, enjoy me, like I want to do with you? What alternative sight do you have, where I ask this? You will never answer.. this is, what even kills my hope. A brutal way of non-reaction. It makes me helpless. Here, I have to say: I don't understand you. How can this feeling of mine be part of a relationship... yet, I feel it. Should I dissociate - or embrace what hurts me, even if it would burn my arms to the bones? You do not know me here. You have not loved me here. Otherwise, you would have been ready to give up your fear, too, as I am ready to give up my fear for my faith in you.

My tummy is warm while I talk so to you. I hope noone reads this but you, and only the eyes of love and mercy .. even if we should split, for the sake of the both of us... I want you to be happy. To carry in you, what you truly need, if it is not what I had to give.

Should you forget me? Should we evolve together, when you now know how to face my position as I helplessly tried to describe here?

I have learned much...
... je ne regrette rien.

Ça va?
Where are you today?