The Beat

Not always things come together.

First of April is approaching, and it is four years ago now that I fell into an abyss of the unknown. Sometimes it seems as if it is a long and winding road. Not the easy way out, at all.

Love is trying to capture images that once moved. Love is trying to seep through. People move. They move. They move on. Only sometimes I freeze and access layers of the known unknown.

The Beat.

Is still coming through. It's still coming through. Breaking walls once shattered then rebuilt. Berlin is mixing with young Hollywood nights. My wife and Sean. You and then Him. Relationships break, transform, die and sometimes, people die but the relationships to them don't.

The Calling

B is playing the piano like the Goddess she has always been to me, in her vulnerability and soft strength. S is singing with her and I listen to a Seal song that takes me over the edge, its rhythm shaking the darkness and the cricket's choir. My body moves, following the pulse and I know: this is where I come alive. There is no denying it. Like when I dive into depths of human interaction and feel excitement of discoveries open my wings.
My mind flies swiftly, spanning thousands of miles and an entire continent to reach Moscow within a mili-second. Ruth comes to mind and her circus performance with this electro artist. The community of artists beckoning me strongly. I stand so strong and tall, when I fall I rise from the rubble, I see where I can learn. And I grow. But the itching inside doesn't become any quieter. The Soul Kitchen is just around the corner, we will come together and share, foster a community of sharing stories, music, dance and poetry. We will feast. And my mind will come back from Russia, it will shake off the longings and thirst and indulge in the evening. I will continue standing tall and take steps of courage and creating a pathway.

Moscow, your hidden jazz bar and the dark and the dirt and your circus and music artists will have to find me, down the road. Maybe it's not silk acrobatics, maybe it is just tight rope walking. More than that it is really creating stories incorporating your magic. I can't hide for much longer.

The Missing Link

For a moment I could see it unfolding - I could see myself walk that path, grow professionally, become that person, step into a certain kind of greatness, a path that feels incidental, random, chosen and destined all in the same time.

But there is more than that.

The moment I realized the need to sharpen the pencil, when what I want is paint with my hands, was when I saw it all transform in front of my eyes. I can't deny my artistic nature. I can't deny that I love to do things the way I want to do them. I can't deny, that polished is not my mark.

I have to step into more chaos, messy creativity, stormy action. Then I can refine and dive and use all the tools I have acquired here. But I can't keep on forever going only on that path. I don't see how I can channel all this through one needle's eye. It seems almost impossible.

There is way more open.