Now I see two strings running through me.
One is black, the string of pain and grief and hate.
One ist red, the string of love, growth and health.
They both reach into the past, through generations and generations.
They both run through my body, reaching into the unknown future, which always only becomes touchable as a piece of now, glowing up for a fraction in time, then lining itself up into a piece of past. Time, they say, does not exist, not the past, not the future, not even now is within our reach.
Nevertheless, I mostly hold onto the black string, always pulling, always hungry for more, always looking to harvest black tar from our lives, to resolve the question of suffering that runs through our family, back into the dark, unreachable past.
The red string is in there, aimlessly vibrating, waiting to feed, waiting to live and spread it’s power. I do not acknowledge it’s existence, yet I am hungry for it, looking elswhere for gratifications, red vibrations. They never stay, never feed enough.
But now I suddenly see the strings, vibrating around each other, inventing complex choreographies, telling stories. I just need to reach out to the red string, it’s right there in me, nowhere else. I can hold onto it and connect it to the other red strings whirling all around me, all around our bodies, waiting to be plugged onto each other, to weave a web of positivity in which we can recline.
They wait for you and me, they want you and me, you can touch them, you can feel them, hold them in your hand, feed on them and feed others with them!