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slowing down

January 17, 2015 - romanticpathofselfdestruction -

while I’m writing this post mother earth covers the neighbourhood under a white blanket of snow. the howling wind is chasing snowflakes around houses and into hidden back alleys and I’m working on my computer . . .

I feel like the snowflake, but this time I don’t romanticise myself in advance. in a few weeks I might think back to that day when I was stuck and nature was playing the frosty orchestra, but today I want to be aware of my actions.
my head keeps moving up looking out after the snow that keeps falling and unifies the environment under one single colour.
I can’t complain about this form of distraction, I planned on writing on something completely different and I keep looking up to find what?

oh right, slowness – peace, calm, rest quiet . . . but for how long?

fbfucker

it was this screen shot of that cursed crapbook that made me think,

again.

I keep falling in mental traps, even in this very moment.

focus! one step after another, don’t waste time, don’t waste energy, don’t waste time wasting energy.

how much sense it seems to make, how it hard it is to be – like that.

can I be blocked from using myself?

slowing down is not possible without movement. but if you keep running after yourself you barely stop, you never rest, you are the predator, your own prey.

slowing down is not an option – I can not rest, I don’t stop and keep running – I stick with the chaos, decline any structure and

ignore a beautiful power, that tries to get me out into the cold, fluffy disaster – what a wonderful approach,

I refuse.

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