NEVER IN MY LIFETIME WILL THERE BE any other place to go. This world is supposed to be a place where there is room for all of us but sometimes I feel as if there is not enough room for me alone. The mind during these periods is darkened by shadowed thoughts. Single words may then linger in my consciousness and repeat itself until I normally would be on the verge of insanity but I have been there so many times that I honestly miss that state of mind when I am not in it anymore.  How can that be so? Because once in there I feel undoubtedly secure and very isolated from the other souls around me. I do not see them. I do not feel their presence if they are around me. My tongue might very well speak to living beings in my surrounding but my thoughts are sheltered by the roaming dusk within my beings mind and I do not hear their words, yet I answer them… 

It is as if there were two personalities in one vessel fighting over the one soul housing in this being but the other one can have it because then – during these periods when everything is so black and the contrast between darkness and light is so tangible – I feel I have no use of a soul anyway. My thoughts are so black. Yet often my hands manage to find their way to my book shelves, picking out books with poetry of the really dark things in life experienced by man since long before the birth of our civilized minds; from times when words were not yet shaped; from times when natures powers held its inhabitants in its firm grip making them believe that it was fearsome gods and goddesses that ruled the weather system and the ecosystem. From a time when man hunted their dinner by killing fearsome prey with rough, male hands, belonging to men with minds not able to communicate with us today – but not to be underestimated at all – they knew how to live in this wild world before the filthy human population grew so large that we had to interact with other groups of people. Staggering. Impressive. It is with the pieces from these times and these humans that still lives in my soul but mostly lay dormant but sometimes they certainly shake my life with a bitter fear from which I cannot locate its origin but it comes from these “dark” times…


My Surroundings


The poetry, yes… my hands manage to get hold of poetry that goes so deep that I normally do not understand it fully. But when these periods appear and seizes my entire being – body, mind, and consciousness altogether, and my eyes are being widely opened in a way not possible between these periods and which makes me able to interpret the words that hit my retinas as an interface between this world and some weird metaphysical existence, making it possible for me to fully understand what I am reading about, as if I had written it myself.

Of course, this knowledge disappears whenever these periods dissipates. But I try to write down as much as possible during these times when I hide from humanity and civilization and I only exit my home between 01:00 and 03:30 during the nights. Going out during these periods can be compared with a Boeing 747 stopping to fill its bizarre tanks with aircraft fuel. I mean that when I come out at pitch black winter – or autumn nights and I enter the woods – which I do almost immediately since I live in it more or less – my entire being is sucking energy from my surroundings like a dry sponge thrown into the water. It is as if nature wants to fill me with knowledge and power. It’s definitely a ritualistic experience but it is totally passive from my part but I experience the surroundings communicating with every tiny piece of my brain and the fascinating, unknown and mysterious thing we call consciousness and I become another being.

I can stand still completely blind in the blackness but with other senses like smell and super hearing and I feel the movement around me… not only is it animals circling around me curious about who and what I am but also other presences, other forces. I find myself standing still for maybe an hour – time is of no essence anymore but it lasts a long while – and I can hear how a vortex is beginning to take form around me, circling from the trees far away to the ones close by, from the living beasts, from the essence of the past, all the knowledge that is gathered from the minds that have existed throughout time from humans that has lived and walked, on this very place where I stand, through thousands of years, even tens of thousands of years back, all their thoughts and knowledge starts to whirl around me on this very spot where I stand – and the vortex is growing and it is rotating faster and faster and it gets closer and tighter to me until it all pushes toward the very center, which is me, and where I get fueled by knowledge from the past history… the thoughts of all those who died upon this spot or within about 500 meters in every direction. The experience is overwhelming and even though it gives one kind of energy it takes my physical strength at the time until I nearly pass out and fall ’till my knees hit the ground like the leaf from one of the trees around me… I am tired, and I need to get home to my shelter because this place no longer feels secure. I feel as if there are invisible eyes staring from every corner or behind every tree. A weird and in a way a wicked state of mind enters my being after these experiences. It feels as if the place that is so very desolated suddenly is populated with thousands of living beings very close upon me and I do not like that feeling and I hurry to get back inside.

These periods do appear with intervals but there is no periodicity in it so it can come twice in six months or once every other year so it is never predictable but I welcome it by heart when it arrives.I wonder when it will arrive next… Those are the moments when I feel alive. Those are the moments when I feel I am dying.