Sunday, 19 October 2014

Det finns nu en Gurdjieff-grupp i Stockholm. 
Kontakta om du vill veta mer.

The direction of my efforts seems random. I find my self, come to, again and again. Again and again I find my self lost, at sea. Yet something keeps returning. 
Lost, found, lost, found, lost, found, lost. In that inhalation and exhalation, I see that my efforts, though seemingly determined by external circumstances, have a common direction. They come from many different angles, from the outside world, but find their way, again and again, to the same, invisible centre.
An unseen column of being inhabits my life. Upright. Straight. Hidden.
My efforts come from the world of accident. They are magnetized by my invisible column of being and drawn to the centre, magnifying it.
Like a thousand transparent darts my negligible Sisyphus efforts fill the void of my being. I am not, and from where I stand, in non-being, I begin to be.
I am something greater than what I am. I am and I am not. I stand in between.
This movement between being and non-being is where my life is. The living breath of eternal return. I fall forward. I am pulled back. I struggle to balance, to hold the discomfort.
In between is the interface between cosmoses. There, I am born.