An encounter with oneself and with the world
Idyll is a state of mind that can be described as a head full of sparrows, a hyper-concentration that makes one feel immortal. It is a mimetic alchemy, an abstraction from the world and an encounter with oneself. In this state, the womb stirs a thirst and a hunger that neither water nor food can fully satisfy. Everything that brings calm is the same thing that brings turmoil. Dancing between excitement and agony, the butterflies of romantic love can become a burden. What makes you sigh today may be what suffocates you tomorrow. Love attacks the core of the paradox and turns everything into an antagonistic mirror.
The other as a computer axis
In this state of idyll, the other becomes an organizing axis. It is the desire we have on the other, what we project on him. Between submissive ambition and ambitious submission, we find the balance. But we never know to what extent our balance is in the hands of the other. Moral structures become soft when losing the path seems the most understandable path. Losing the reason that makes us human makes us even more human. The tug-of-war of antagonists has the power to silently ensnare.
The eternity of love
This perennial state makes us understand eternity in more detail. Everything makes sense in this illogical puzzle. Sometimes, it seems that the only thing I can decide is whether to cross the tightrope, whether to let myself be swallowed up by the maelstrom of opposition. If I am predisposed to allow myself to be hurt again, if I have put enough will into resignifying the wounds of life or if each scar brings me a little closer to death. It is worth pondering if the joy is worth it, if I want to make this umpteenth generous gesture or if I have already let my peace be made of protectionism and the will to survive. It’s worth loving life or learning to get rid of it.
The inevitable idyll
When the idyll seems inevitable, all measured considerations lose strength and meaning. This is the spirit behind Shakespeare’s sonnets, the man who invented it all. There is a time when we want to fly and that’s why we let ourselves fall. We risk losing our balance walking the tightrope because, on behalf of the other, rushing to one side or the other always seems desirable. With the senses asleep, we live the moment more awake. It’s all so overwhelmingly exciting that, on the other side of the imitation, the mirror, we wish it had never happened. There are days when the dominance we give to the other is so great that we would prefer it didn’t exist, but love does. We would give everything, play everything, because when we have tasted it, we realize that it is one of the few things that make us accept life.
Condemnation and salvation
This perennial state is what makes us understand eternity in more detail. Chance and fate, everything takes on logic in this illogical puzzle. Sometimes it seems that the only thing I really decide is whether I cross the tightrope, whether I take the risk of letting myself be swallowed up by this maelstrom of opposites. If I prepare my soul to allow myself to be hurt again, if I have put enough will to resignify the wounds as a result of life or if I think that each wound brings me a little closer to death. If it’s worth it, which in this case is the same as pondering if the joy is worth it. If I want to make this umpteenth generous gesture or if I have already let my peace be made of protectionism, of the will to survive. If loving life is loving this man or learning to get rid of him. All measured consideration loses strength and meaning when the idyll already seems inevitable. This is the spirit behind each and every one of Shakespeare’s sonnets, the man who invented them all. There is a moment when I want to fly, and that’s why I let myself fall. I risk losing my balance by walking the tightrope because, in the name of the other, rushing to one side or the other always becomes desirable to me. Love is well blessed; you can go on: he never thinks badly of your actions. With numb senses, I live my most awake moment. It’s all so overexcitingly overwhelming that on the other side of the imitation, the mirror, I think I wish it had never happened to me. There are days when the domain I give him is such that I would prefer it not to exist, but love exists; you would give everything, gamble everything, because when you’ve tasted it you realize it’s one of the few things that make you accept life.
