Earth, water, air and fire
All present in a fleeing moment
Myself in the middle
Wandering, lost soul
Destined to search for the meaning
Why am I here?
The Spinner sings to me
He tells me: there is no end, no beginning
Just you, the Universe and endless continuum of life and death
Keep singing while the time is yours
There is nothing more to ponder
— 05/07/2019 DT —
Thought I would start from the night when something moved inside of me. It was the thing that was hidden quite deep inside my mind after I experienced a some kind of “revelation” a few months before.
I was spending time with my family and relatives on our cabin in Saimaa archipelago in Finland. It is The Place I call my Soul Landscape. Even in my darkest hours, it was a place that made me feel at least something. It is where I have been born and where my spirit belongs.
Everyone else was asleep already after we’ve spent some time together on a pier overlooking the calm lake. We had put up a campfire, laughed, eaten and drank together. And now I was sitting on the pier all alone, thinking of how lucky I am to have those people in my life and just to be here. My mind wandered somewhere as I gazed the serene scenery all around me and the lively campfire dancing in front of me.
You know how a Spinner sounds? It sounds eternal. Suddenly my ears were filled with its hypnotic loop which I didn’t notice before, not when I was busy socializing with my loved ones. I don’t know how long I sat there, but it felt like it was for an eternity and yet only for a blink of an eye. I used to make a “kind of poetry” in my adolescence: I wrote lyrics to the songs we composed and played with my buddies. The lyrics were as naive as I was and I really lacked content of life to properly write them, but I did them anyway and sang them on stage or in a studio with pride and unpolished anger of youth. When all that ended, the youth, the music and the carefree life, when life took a turn towards new goals unknown, I never sang again. I didn’t write anything, not when I fell in love nor when I was down and blue. That’s what made this night at the pier so special. After I woke up from the Spinner suggested trance I grabbed my phone with shaking hands and wrote: It came as a stream of words, a short stream, but nonetheless. I stared at the text incredulously. The Spinner was silent, there was only embers left in the campfire.
Maybe I should sing again?