Epigraph
A genuinely curious man once asked me: “How come you believe in the sacred and the mystical your stories tell about?” To which, with an honesty equalying his, I answered: “I do not believe. I experience.” Soon, the man had an “aha” moment, and a tiny bit of the connection between him and his spirit was regained.
I
Orca spots that cover my body…
Oh, black and white symphony, I am losing myself in thee!
I am swimming!
Different… How was I born? Myself. Orca. Me.
Orca spots that cover my body,
And orca head that is but my head.
Orca’s trunk and orca’s tail
Attached to my own orca-like head.
Orca spots that cover my body…
Black and white symphony of profoundly natural ways.
Unseen my true skin remains
To the eyes of so many a man on most of my wonderful days.
II
My story begins in a kindergarten. I suppose everybody’s story begins in some kindergarten. The time when one faces other ones. The time one is prohibited to do quite a lot, quite often, and is forced to do unwanted things when the time to do so clearly isn’t right. Like sleeping time. I don’t know if you carry similar experiences, but sleeping time was a bit of a torture for me. And so were all the other activities set to please the almighty master–the almighty Clock. Indoctrination, some call it. Surely an unpleasant thing being forced into following the ticking master rather than giving in to the omnipresent whispers of the natural flow. Conditioning, some call it also. A kind of implementation of mutually oppressing cogs into a being of freedom–a child. A way to lose innocence, I remember I gathered that quite quickly. I also recall my actions that followed. The way I remember it, I rebelled early. And I was a fascinating rebel, I conclude today. I had the strength to dream. And I owed this strength to my ever-present smile. This smile I inherited from my grandfather, and it came to fruition even before I could walk. Each of my dreams was no common daydream at all, but a shared dream of all life that participated in it. Or at least so I intuited. For, how could one be in a state of dreaming, alone, yet embraced by most everything? A river. And a flow that takes with it everything that does not oppose, but without an effort travels. A magical current of sorts. In my heart, completely sacred. With such experiences of humanity, destiny offered me no other but a rebellious path. A mystical warrior. A crusader without a sword or a gold-crazed look dwelling within his spiritless eyes. A ferryman bringing the dead to the land of the living–with a peaceful touch and a stubborn attitude towards his only two goals: freedom, and the divine that hides most everywhere.
At this young, post-toddler age of mine I remember one scene. One amongst many scenes of my life’s first act, no doubt. A playroom. Children–angry, sad, confused, and bored. For hours away from their parental angels and gods; stigmatized so early. And noise. And the desire to get out of there, whispered to me by my genius. I recall an exit beyond the walls and shelves of oily toys and dead trees unbarked preserving childish tales. A light out of the darkness. A dark away from the electric suns. Standing in my way–two pillars, with too much fat tissue for their own health and well-being, that commanded me from above.
”You are not going nowhere, mister.”
Thus, my body had no choice but to comply, while my spirit dreamed myself away from this madness. It was the first time I felt this way. To resist, to fight; in peace and silence. It felt reassuringly good. Until a special kind of pain knocked on my inner gates. It was the sign of a disturbance of harmony. My body and my spirit were no longer singing the same song in unison. For the first time in my life they were divided. And I felt a pain, like a needle underneath my physical skin. It tried to tear me apart, and left me confused. Why would anyone build himself a world like this? What brute would forcibly awaken what eternally in spirals sleeps? Two siblings interwoven, now separate threads. An experience that was but a violent interruption of an eternal dream.
From this moment on, my life was never meant to be the same. The first layer of innocence was taken away and lost, and I was offered nothing in return.... (continue...)
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