Enemies to lovers

“I dance among skeletons. I swirl around them with pride, I jump above their skulls as if I had no body of my own, I take their hands and hips and throw them around. I dance to this cacophonous composition of death and life with melancholic euphoria. I twirl in an ecstatic crescendo, exploding  as I stomp and stumble on the bones. I fall to the rhythm of the cello as high as I flew to the symphony of the violins. I keep dancing in this graveyard of memories and regrets, tears and despair, nostalgia of the lost and longing for the past. I spring forward  with light and smile at brief instances of joy, to then capitulate again  into my  dark ossuary. My formless body tip toes in the empty white cage, dancing on the bones of my old self.” - Poems from a Broken heart

I turned 23 today (this section and the newsletter that follows  were written on the second of November, the rest took a while between writing, editing and discarding). I am not the man I wish to be. I see  my life like a dance among the skeletons of the men I once was. I move  my feet to the rhythm of a dichotomy:  the longing for an unreachable version of my past self, full  of vitality, and falling all too easily into my old self, of mayhem. I am coming to the realization, in a more felt way, rather than mere intellectual understanding, of the transitory nature of life. I am experiencing the disillusionment of my youthful aspirations and dreams. An intense nostalgia has emerged from/ or has been embedded in my heart. Degenerative habits, crippling mental narratives, destructive desires thought once dead, crawl in and out of my life. Such are my brittle bones.

VALSE DE L’ADIEU

"Observe, in short, how transient and trivial is all mortal life; yesterday a drop of semen, tomorrow a handful of spice or ashes." - Meditations, Marcus Aurelius

At the beginning of the semester in September I started my last year of masters, my conclusive year of studies. A rather scary thought. I am not forever 20, with years ahead of me before I start working and am an actual adult. At the same time, I’ve worked so hard. I’ve spent countless hours  dedicated  to studying, serving my church in many capacities. I at times wish I had a bit more fun and allowed myself to be youthful and insouciant. 

Juxtaposed resides another deep dissatisfaction in my heart. In full awareness of my graceless crushing expectations, I can’t prevent myself from gazing at my sacrifice, at all that life, that I gave away for my many pursuits, to then be possessed by a spirit of disappointment. My efforts bear so little fruit, the return of my labor is little. It feels all too vain. From my academic endeavors, to my spiritual sowing and watering, to my physical training, and to this very newsletter. Perhaps from an external glance laudable, but from the eyes of its own maker, no content is there to be found. Never feel enough.

My grandma passed away in September. It was an expected and almost welcomed death as her suffering had burdened her for years. We had a complicated relationship, but I still loved her. My heart cries remembering her radiant smile and bronze skin as we bathed in the sea during the summer. Now both my grandmas are dead. They are not coming back. I miss them. They remain a reminder of our mortality. A thought exacerbated recently between a weeklong trip to Oslo, both my parents going to the ER, and sent home as if crippled and barely capable of moving. My dad’s misfortune frightened my entire being. In many moments I thought his soul could  leave his body sooner rather than later (after a month and a half of fighting he is finally much better).

It’s been quite some time since I’ve pursued a romantic relationship, or since I’ve gone on a date or even been genuinely interested in somebody. This all too quiet peace is disturbed by all the romantic residue I need to deal with. Regret and nostalgia hover in my mind, as I look back at the moments of great joy, the life giving feeling of infatuation, and ponder what could have been if I had been better, a greater man, more in control of my emotions and my tongue, if I had followed the advice I was given, if … . At times I slip into a spiral of self pity evoking a deep pain of feeling unlovable. It’s hard not to believe these voices, as I’m 23 and feel like I’ve been only trashed, exploited, discarded, and frowned upon by girls I was infatuated with, since my early youth. 

My city never felt as much like home, yet, I’ve never experienced such a strong desire to leave it. Partly because I feel there is no future for me to embrace enthusiastically, career wise, romantically or ecclesiastically. Yet, my family, closest friends, my culture, my safe place are here. Recently, a door to move to Oslo partly opened, even if as time passes by, it seems more unlikely. However, for a few weeks, I actually thought I was going to move next year to Norway for a couple of years. Now, I know I want to move, but I have no idea where to land, for what reason, with which community and when.

Lastly, I gasp as I desperately chase what the love of my closest friends, who I dare call family, once felt like. I’ve never witnessed such a sharp shift in my relational landscape. Marriage, dating, different stages of life, moving away, have destabilized the structure and experience of friendship and family in which I delighted, unconscious of its preciousness. Now their hugs aren’t as warm. Their smiles don’t  generate the same joy in my heart. Their love isn't as life-giving.

Reminiscencias

"You cannot step twice into the same river, for other waters are continually flowing on. And you cannot touch a mortal substance twice in the same state, but because of the swiftness and speed of change, it scatters and gathers, it comes and goes." - Eraklito

I don’t seek to only provide an update on my life, but I wish to attempt to grasp the opportunity to tackle two very important, seemingly unrelated, struggles rising from a nihilistic existential malaise. As described  in the previous newsletter, the main focus of the upcoming Newsletters, entitled “the quest for meaning”, will regard the struggle against the brutal appearance of life as meaningless. There are many sources that refurbish such experience, with even more interesting consequences and, hopefully, remedies. Here I present one. Twas a pair initially, yet for the sake of simplicity and length, I will split the newsletter in two. The next one will tackle the concept of akrasia, or inner dissonance. Back to now:

The transitory nature of life resides at the beginning of our journey. Anxiety, a restless unsettlement of the heart, burning regret, tearful nostalgia stir in our heart as the ground upon which our identity and meaning is founded trembles. Curiously, friends and lifestyles, dreams and places, foods and stories, looks and routines which conjure our sense of who we are and why we are. When a sudden reassessment of our source of value and meaning occurs, the inevitable perceived experience is of unsettlement, confusion and existential malaise. 

Classic examples could be, a midlife crisis or the adolescent rupture of infantile naïveté. Yet, we can group,  this name, many other phenomena, just in different intensities, such as what I’m experiencing now; for example  the end of a big project, an exam session, a relationship, or a trip. Once, we could experience the same feelings when as children we would finish saga’s like Harry Potter or the Lord of the Rings (am I the only one?) …  we were so invested in the story that its end drove a swift and gentle existential malaise.

During these life transients, our whole being, in relation to all that is around us, seeks to acquire a new balance, a new story to write, from which a new sense of purpose will arise. Unfortunately, these tumultuous emotions can discombobulate us greatly, inflicting hurts that can scar, or developing coping mechanisms that cripple us, or simply dim our vital light whilst we seek a new balance, if we ever manage to not succumb to our existential malaise.

I thought of not mentioning it, but as I am about to publish this writing, I feel compelled to. Lately my relationship with God serves more as a reminiscences than this life ordering principle and a relational being present in my life. I’ve found no consolation in Him or my faith so far, just a distant bitterness and disappointment. Our relationship with the divine too mutates and our spiritual walk has its stages and transitioning wilderness moments. There is no better image to embody the existential malaise. 

I found that the emotional turbulence we experience, stirred by the transitory nature of life, is an allusion of a darker and more treacherous problem: our mortality. Ceasing to exist is quite a terrifying idea. I lack the courage to express my true thoughts, perhaps I shall attempt it in another newsletter. What I know to be true is that everything good must come to an end, so too bad. Indeed, ‘panta rei’ said the ancient Greeks, everything changes, and we will eventually die. God or no God. 

La Danse Magique 

“In life I’ve learnt that few things matter, peace, love and happiness. And we have to hold on to them, especially love, because what is life without love?” - Tristen, a dear friend

Enough of this sad melody reeking of death. Light ought to fill this inescapable ossuary. I choose strings of hope and a rhythm of cheer to accompany my next steps. Requiem chants are not a cacophony, but sounds of balance in the incomplete harmony of our lives. As I wrestle with my mortality and the very restless change of everything that I hold dear, I appeal to gratitude and love. May it revitalize my hindered spirit! 

Over the past  two months, I have struggled to embrace love for others and life itself. I’ve failed at embracing a wholehearted gratitude for the miscellaneous gifts of life, for the people near me, all whilst knowing they are a vital blessing, for the very breath that flows through my lungs. The air in the latter feels heavy and old. Breathing in a vital spirit through gratitude and love feels so difficult. Despite my shortcomings, fortune has smiled at me in many unexpected ways, providing me with many new friendships, reigniting old ones, offering momentary consolation in novel pursuits, and reminding me of the beauty of being alive.
Fortunately, in the whirlwind of contrasting emotions, patience, curiosity and gratitude rise to my aid in these moments of change. 

Learning to flow in the magical dance, in terms of acceptance of our powerlessness over the transitory nature of everything and the dynamicity of our very identity and sense of purpose, seems essential to live out a meaningful human condition.
I came to better grasp this last reflection whilst coming back from a party with a stranger, who now I can call a friend, talking about an unbelievable life experience. My takeaway from that conversation is that we can’t just “go with the flow”, we should  set aside a proper time, of quietness and reflection, in gratitude and nostalgic acceptance, to “grieve” the passage of a stage in life, relationships, and more, followed by a reassessment and a sort of initiation, a welcoming of and orientation towards the new that is to come. Doing this helps letting go of what has passed, and while orienting ourselves toward what we would like in the new that is in front of us. 

Live, laugh, love to the Max

UPDATES

Next month I will offer a reflection on the existential malaise rising from our inner dissonance.

The last week and a half of November have been truly wonderful. My brother and his girlfriend visited for Thanksgiving, infusing such laughter and love in my heart, offsetting my  struggle with many dark emotions. I also wish to salute you. I am truly grateful for your relationships.
November closed grandly, hosting some friends from Latvia, Croatia, and England whose smiles and hugs brought joy and rest to my soul. The month ended with the birthday/Thanksgiving party of my dear friend, Tristen. His words from his festive inauguration speech shall serve as the conclusion for this Newsletter: “In life I’ve learnt that few things matter, peace, love and happiness. And we have to hold on to them, especially love, because what is life without love?”

BIBLIOGRAPHY

A Holy Longing - Ronald Rolheiser

DISCOGRAPHY

Reminiscencias - Claudio Costantini

Valse De L’adieu - Eric Christian

Enemies to lovers - Joshua Aalampour