Something like the sound of jelly hitting the ground

In the shade of an oak

A l’ombre d’un chêne, in the shade of an oak. This painting was finished in 2013. Desperate, stressful times. I thought I’d die, collapsing in a garden of Ostende, that year but I just ended up running away from a ‘bande de connards’, or something like that, that were generally giving me a hard time. That’s how one remembers some, sometimes, when it goes too far in the line of trauma and it’s left to get worse, for reasons beyond one’s comprehension. When time goes by and one manages to lessen a grip on certain emotions, one can sometimes remember other things, like nice smiles and friendly faces. It gets more difficult to happen with a je-ne-sais-quoi of a waiting ordeal to come on top of trauma, a begging keyboard instead of a bowl, but still, one can perceive better that fellow human beings aren’t basically careless monsters. Maybe just as lost as oneself. Lost in other conditions. A lot of quiet stories in 2013 and after I’d avoid now if I could go back in time, other ones that probably should have happened that didn’t. I don’t regret some of it because some experiences teach what it’s like to be loved and to love, other ones what it’s like not to be loved and not to love, but it’s all experiences having the taste of life – if one is alive, maybe even more so if one didn’t die. It can also be part of a process involving patience and generosity – very good for the heart (as in loving-kindness and mattering matter mattering, caring). All in all, an actual amnesia might have been a better choice than painfully trying to remember, if it were ‘consciously’ feasible, but it still worked for a while to ‘freeze’ my memory function after waking up, not dead, to keep on going. Problem (on top of having to put up with sentient beings perceived as pretenders and cowards) about loosing memory is, as Luis Buñuel put it:

“You have to begin to loose your memory, 
if only in bits and pieces, 
to realize that memory is what makes our lives. 
Life without memory is no life at all… 
Our memory is our coherence, our reason, our feeling, 
even our action. 
Without it, we are nothing…”

Letting go, how nice when it happens in the fields of samsara. Keeping every sentient being’s innocent mistake in mind as a useful possibility for avoiding any of it again and for friendship to happen. Then, if it was a mistake or not is the other’s choice and business that never was ours, to start with. One does need friends and good impressions, heart-warming ubuntu, and that’s no joke on this planet.

Maybe that it’s a gardener who said:

‘If I keep a green bough in my heart, the singing bird will come’.

Maybe that it’s Lao-Tzu, who also said, seemingly, that:
‘New beginnings are often disguised as painful ends’.