Hagakure
He worked in weird ways to train himself. All his life he tried be ready in case he was needed. He followed the hagakure, the ancient way of the samurai, to stay hidden by the leafs. He trained for peace of mind in times of danger, he trained to loose fear of death, to be able to act in front of certain doom. He imagined himself vividly being killed in several ways always remembering: If by setting one's heart right every morning and evening, one is able to live as though his body were already dead, he gained freedom in this way. The Bushido had served him right till that night.
He couldn’t die at ease in his mind.
Two days with no sleep is something that no man can take.
Two days sweating love and day dreaming about a loved one is something that not even a mother can take.
Two days with love shining inside of you and the object of this love just a text message away not even a trained monk can handle.
He had training in handling actions above emotions.
He had to give up ownership, presence and companionship to be able to love his poet.
So he called her and asked her to meet in his space. But it was not the girl that cried the other night the one that arrived. It was his friend. The best friend that he had always had in her, and he rejoiced, he wanted to see the light he had felt, but she failed to show it. Maybe it was only friendship blurred by the liquorish aquosity of the other night what he had seen. Still he invited her in and showed her the musical excuse that had brought her there. Eventually that ran out and he began downloading karaoke videos for her. Just to pass the time. To keep her by his side. Trying to make her fall in his trap, he fell.
They began singing, just as they always did, but this time he wasn’t looking at the screen or at her, like he always did, he was looking inside. Listening to his heart.
It was all love. Everything inside, when they were together: It was all love (for him at least).
She noticed him strange and asked if he was ok. He nodded a yes, lying.
His code tortured him. The rose conditioning held him in place. He had to find a way to put a stop to this train of thoughts.
He squeezed his mind, heart and soul looking for the right thing to do.
She eventually left the premises and he digged his brain, he consulted books, movies and all sources of inspiration to find the right amount of love to put into her image.
He finally stumbled in something.
The ultimate love, the most selfless kind of love was the love that simply asked for the other one happiness.
Looking back he knew she was happy, he knew the story, he knew the life she lived and that she was proud of what she had built so far. (of course there where troubles and fights in her current relationship, but she worshipped it, and was happy about it)
So his love would not add any happiness to her life, hence it was stupid to approach her. What did he have to offer that she could want? Mr. Ego was in trouble again.
He really though he had found a way to behave around her. If he couldn’t add to her happiness, there would not be any reason to approach her.
Still he had to know. It was late, but a good night sleep was at his reach. He text her.
She answered and they talked.
“Are you ok?” – She asked sleepy, it was late after all. – “We never talk this late.”
“Sorry, I want to ask you a question.” – He said holding his pillow as tight as he could, he closed his eyes. –“Are you happy?”
She paused for a second. Thinking about it he sounded kind of sad when he asked that, so she was probably wondering if there was something wrong with him. His question was meant to dig in her soul and find out if he could add something to her life. He simply had messed up.
“Yes I am.” – She said calmly – “How about you, are you happy?”
“There is so much more that I want.” – He answered – “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He simply had to tell her. For his own sanity. To not be afraid of dying.
Every time he confronted dead with his mind, the last action he tried to do was contacting her, write her name in his blood or simply kiss her. No way to die, hence no way to live.
He couldn’t die at ease in his mind.
Two days with no sleep is something that no man can take.
Two days sweating love and day dreaming about a loved one is something that not even a mother can take.
Two days with love shining inside of you and the object of this love just a text message away not even a trained monk can handle.
He had training in handling actions above emotions.
He had to give up ownership, presence and companionship to be able to love his poet.
So he called her and asked her to meet in his space. But it was not the girl that cried the other night the one that arrived. It was his friend. The best friend that he had always had in her, and he rejoiced, he wanted to see the light he had felt, but she failed to show it. Maybe it was only friendship blurred by the liquorish aquosity of the other night what he had seen. Still he invited her in and showed her the musical excuse that had brought her there. Eventually that ran out and he began downloading karaoke videos for her. Just to pass the time. To keep her by his side. Trying to make her fall in his trap, he fell.
They began singing, just as they always did, but this time he wasn’t looking at the screen or at her, like he always did, he was looking inside. Listening to his heart.
It was all love. Everything inside, when they were together: It was all love (for him at least).
She noticed him strange and asked if he was ok. He nodded a yes, lying.
His code tortured him. The rose conditioning held him in place. He had to find a way to put a stop to this train of thoughts.
He squeezed his mind, heart and soul looking for the right thing to do.
She eventually left the premises and he digged his brain, he consulted books, movies and all sources of inspiration to find the right amount of love to put into her image.
He finally stumbled in something.
The ultimate love, the most selfless kind of love was the love that simply asked for the other one happiness.
Looking back he knew she was happy, he knew the story, he knew the life she lived and that she was proud of what she had built so far. (of course there where troubles and fights in her current relationship, but she worshipped it, and was happy about it)
So his love would not add any happiness to her life, hence it was stupid to approach her. What did he have to offer that she could want? Mr. Ego was in trouble again.
He really though he had found a way to behave around her. If he couldn’t add to her happiness, there would not be any reason to approach her.
Still he had to know. It was late, but a good night sleep was at his reach. He text her.
She answered and they talked.
“Are you ok?” – She asked sleepy, it was late after all. – “We never talk this late.”
“Sorry, I want to ask you a question.” – He said holding his pillow as tight as he could, he closed his eyes. –“Are you happy?”
She paused for a second. Thinking about it he sounded kind of sad when he asked that, so she was probably wondering if there was something wrong with him. His question was meant to dig in her soul and find out if he could add something to her life. He simply had messed up.
“Yes I am.” – She said calmly – “How about you, are you happy?”
“There is so much more that I want.” – He answered – “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
He simply had to tell her. For his own sanity. To not be afraid of dying.
Every time he confronted dead with his mind, the last action he tried to do was contacting her, write her name in his blood or simply kiss her. No way to die, hence no way to live.
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