In the last five years, i digged down deep into the deepest depth of a human mind – my mind. I put my headlight on and went down – further and further – into a place, many people would consider to be the hell of life.
At least that's the only explanation i can think of, because everybody seems to be running away from it. Therefore it must be hell…
There i was:
No energy, no nothing. Only questions: What is this? Why is this? The only will there was, was the will to stay in bed – for ages.
After making no serious attempt to rush out of this part of life, hell and i became friends over the years. More and more often, hell and i just sat there…
Chilling.
In hell.
We were both super relaxed – as always.
Quiet … rarely speaking, only listening … observing life … enjoying this state of simply being inside that helly heat with all it's amazing fire. Dude! There was fire! All over the place!
So hell and i sat there … for ages … in the middle of the fire … like our ›uncivilized‹, wild and smelly ancestors, when they used to sit in circles around the fire … singing songs … or simply staring holes into the air…
Hell and i got to know eachother well over the years – we became close friends. Noone usually stayed as long as i did. All the other people who came in for a visit, where only screaming nervously, struggling like insane people, got some pills or distracting mental input from the the matrix outside – and rushed out without having a closer look. Neither did they close the door…
Tsss … Humans.
This place is beautiful!
It is always warm – there is always fire.
Hand auf's Herz! Isn't that what we all are looking for, if we are honest to ourselves?
Now – looking with some distance – i can resume, that we have been pretty lonesome down there, most of the time. The adored ones, whom i wanted to show the beauty of this place and share it with, didn't want to come along.
They were not ready yet – or already over it.
It seams, as if they were afraid for some reason. At least i can not explain otherwise… Should i ask them, to break the silence? Hmm… well … For some reason they rejected, fought against this gift of life, and – sooner or later – told me to stop.
This made me sad. Every single time. So i returned to hell … every single time … all by myself.
Then hell and i sat there again:
Hell was sad – and i was sad.
No one wanted to be with us, no one wanted to spend time with us, as if we were sick or something. One day hell was so sad, that it asked me – bursting over with tears – if i could give it a hug:
Yeah, sure!
Then we hugged … hell and i … and cried … and cried … no one wanted to accept us just how we were. Everybody was running away or brought some mental input into the game, that was not really supportive – looking from distance.
Like Andreas, who once wrote, that »Du willst ja, denke ich, aus der Scheiße auch wieder raus. Das musst du dann auch überlegt und konstruktiv angehen und Kunden nicht vernachlässigen bzw. potenzielle Kunden nicht erschrecken.«
He called my friend hell:
Scheiße.
How mean is that?!
I replied, that, before judging, i would first take a closer look of that thing, everybody seemed to be running away from so desperately…
Hell is such a precious, special and rarely visited part of life.
It contains so much beauty – so much warmth – so much fire – as soon as you are able to accept its invitation and open your eyes and senses wide – inside.
All these churches and other fellows used my friend hell to manipulate their neighbours by turning hell into something bad and evil
— by telling people to be afraid of it
— by telling people, this would be the worst and the exact opposite
of that strange heaven image, they created
They created a phantasy lacking image, in which an old, beardy (?) man (?) was supposed to be sitting and waiting for us behind a huuuuuuge wooooden portal (?) if we were kind and nice threwout our lifetime.
I mean …
Hello?
Anybody home?
Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the sickest of them all?
For quite some millenniums, we continuously, stoicly worked hand in hand on the mission of dragging ourselves further and further away from half of our lifes – half of our truth – by manipulating us into some strange desire-addicted beings running after that »i-want-happiness«.
On one hand, we are all so desperately running, yearning and searching for fire.
For example: check out these two versions of Selah Sue's »Fyah, Fyah«:
… and … on the other hand – as soon as the fire, we all yearn and so desperately cry for, comes around in its very own shape – we are afraid as hell (?) and fight it, run away from it, and scream, and cry, and cry … as if there was no tomorrow!