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Of the will

Modifié le : 2016/09/18

The uni­verse of pos­si­bil­i­ties is more than vast, it bends, frac­tures, twists into inti­mate or gar­gan­tu­an dimen­sions. I have, so to speak, lost my foot­ing in the qui­et every­day life of my four walls. I come home with a dif­fer­ent look as if the place no longer belongs to me. Every­thing is still the same dis­or­der of peo­ple who live too long in their four walls. That will have to change.

Every­thing is still to be done, I guess. Noth­ing is acquired except the cer­tain­ty that to change, when one wants, it can be done. For a few days, I had felt the impor­tance of the ges­ture, that of sub­mit­ting to some­one else’s sched­ule, of aban­don­ing the com­fort, even the con­fus­ing com­fort, of the estab­lished clien­tele. And in the weeks that fol­lowed, I grad­u­al­ly mourned the loss of some projects I was respon­si­ble for, and found that, from a handy­man, I became an expe­ri­enced inte­gra­tor, cer­tain­ly, but only that. My for­mer clients tell me they are look­ing else­where and that is obvi­ous­ly what they have to do. I still feel a lit­tle pinch in my heart to leave them. Leav­ing to start a new life in anoth­er city or coun­try is a bit like that.

Morn­ing is more reg­u­lat­ed. I get up at the same time, I have break­fast, I wash, I still take thir­ty min­utes to walk to my cubi­cle. I bought boots today, invest­ed $350 in some­thing that will with­stand the win­ter walk. I still avoid the too big crowd, the one that reg­i­ments itself to get on the bus­es, the one that clumps into the veins of the subway.

I need to con­tin­ue, in oth­er words, the walk. I still con­sid­er myself an out­sider in every­day life. At the office, I inter­act with my team­mates, smiles set­tle in, every­one’s codes are grad­u­al­ly digest­ed. Since there are many of us, I will know only a few of them. It is a uni­verse of geeks, 80% male for pro­gram­ming, 90% (?) female for design, 40% m / 60% f for man­age­ment, 100% m for IT support.

It is a grow­ing com­pa­ny. You can feel it in the com­ings and goings, the announce­ments, the projects. I’ve already changed places because we had to reor­ga­nize for the new ones. It changes me from a cer­tain decrease, start­ing with mine. I will be able to bud­get, fill the bal­last tanks to rebal­ance the ship.

It is not yet clear what will be done tomor­row. I’ve tak­en up singing again, the choir, I’ll be pub­lished in a year. I have to give myself a place, a time slot for cre­ativ­i­ty. Keep­ing qui­et in a too peace­ful a state of secu­ri­ty is not my style. I don’t wor­ry about it too much.

How­ev­er, at the moment, I have only one desire. That of sit­ting on the floor, in a room devoid of arti­fice. Redis­cov­er my breath­ing, my tow­er of fire.

Dur­ing one of my class­es, my teacher told me again to stop want­i­ng to get too much air, as if I was about to dive deep under­wa­ter. Singing is impos­si­ble under­wa­ter. Since that remark, I have been try­ing very hard and very eas­i­ly to do every­thing by just speak­ing my mind.

The body knows what to do. If I want, it can. So I have to sit down, soak up the the­o­log­i­cal silence of the present moment, see in oth­ers the man­i­fes­ta­tion of ener­gy sim­i­lar to mine, lis­ten to the same exis­ten­tial melody in them.

To pray, cer­tain­ly, as only the lay­man can will and do.

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