Life is too short for boring stories

If I were not firmly on the ground with both legs, then, I thought, and I think to a certain extent still, then, yes, I cannot determine in which direction it goes and I have no more control. And to give up the control, that means giving the book out of hand. To give up the book is inevitable that I lose my life, the determination and the orientation. At least the part that I can determine and align. It is hard to guess how big this is, I was ready to defend him to the last. Not only that, I would defend the very beginnings. It is only the approach of an idea to take such a direction that I already looked completely. And what would become of my independence, of my self-determination? Would not it be a betrayal of feminism, and all the ancestors to whom I owed it, because they made it possible, through their engagement and struggle, to have these possibilities? Would not it mean to betray them? Betrayed a comfort that I cannot afford.

When I turn away from the self and leave it in its place, letting it in, leave it, let it go, let it stand, I leave the power of action to someone else outside of me, I thought, and I think to a certain extent still, then, yes, then I am lost and without rescue. I have nothing more to say, I can no longer interfere, and the happenings will be unaffected by me, any. The responsibility and the burden which I carry, because I am surrendered without them, surrendered to arbitrariness and dominion. I prefer to wear it before I let someone determine me and my life. And would it not be a betrayal of myself, since I had worked this position for all these years, until I was taken seriously, also in my own being, and in it, to realize my desires, goals, hopes, and dreams? Would not it be a vendetta against my own development? I should have told you not even to suggest. And if you take hold of me, I will wriggle for so long, until you have to release me, free to myself.

If I, I always thought automatically, and I think to a certain extent still, if I, then, yes then. But instead of finding that again, you found me and offered to keep me, just like that. And I was tired, so tirelessly tired of being strong and independent and also feeling responsible for everyone, even for those who do not have this strength. That’s why, and only for this reason was I able to penetrate myself for the first time. Or it was easy, because I could not do anything else. At that moment, so you picked me up, on your arms. For a moment I tried to defend myself, but it was barely perceptible. And you actually steered your steps to where you wanted them. I felt the uncertainty, but also the pain that fell from me as you left, and I caught myself with my arms around your neck and closed my eyes to make you easy. Let me in on whatever it may bring, allow me to hold and protect and forfend me, leaving you to be mindful. And when you left me, again, I looked around, in a place I would not have found without you, since my field of vision alone was too restricted, and it was worth to be visited. I realized that I was still so tightly attached to the ground as before, without losing control, only that I made my steps easier. I felt relieved and strengthened, because you took and accepted me, and re-earthed in letting go.

If, as I now know, I am taught to let myself be held, I strengthen my own hold in myself, for through you I will be more and more ever more than I ever could be.


2 Gedanken zu “Hold me

  1. robertomuffoletto sagt:

    The struggle for self, to find ones self and to know it. How do we know what and who we are? How to be “me” and at time “us”. Life is a voyage, a path, with many forks in the road with no direction signs. We never give up ourselves, for what we do is our self.

    1. novels4utoo sagt:

      That’s the interesting and dangerous thing in life

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