03:19   05/01/2021

To my old…

To let the waters flow, or to fight the current. Sometimes I forget that those are the decisions I’m always facing. To let nature exist the way it will, or to let nature deal with what ‘I” will. Not that either is wrong. But then again, not that either is right. What does matter in these either/or decisions, is how my life force is affected. Should I spend such precious and limited life energy trying to control what I believe ‘should be’? Or should I use this precious and limited resource to embrace the reality before me? Like I said, neither is right or wrong. But one thing is certain. It sure is pleasant to float along where the waters want to take me, every once in a while.

Enough of these Contemplations! They’re not for you, my darling. These letters… They’re stories for you to enjoy before you sail the skies of slumber.

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The night before, if you remember, I gave counsel to a brother in need. Ears, he needed most. As usual. But, of course, as a master of spirit, I found a touch of guidance and reminding provided him the final nourishments he needed.

But we must accept there is a time when a strong captain is needed. And that every other time, we should accept that everybody else just wants to sail too.

He was troubled with the waters before him. The way other ships would sail. The way he manned his crew. The way we all used to manage our ships. Used to… And now, the way these seas were sailed. I’m not particularly fond of the way these seas are flooded with weak sailors, either. But we must accept there is a time when a strong captain is needed. And that every other time, we should accept that everybody else just wants to sail too.

Not exactly what I’d call a ‘solution’. ‘Desertion’ is its true essence.

Not many folk have strong enough character to confront matters. Not many at all. So, to folk like me and Felix, who’d rather rid of the ailments quickly, it’s strange to see how everybody else would just let the wounds fester. A feminine approach. To step aside and hope matters sort themselves. In which, they sort of do. Or rather. Everybody just accepts that what is rotten will remain rotten. Not exactly what I’d call a ‘solution’. ‘Desertion’ is its true essence. When pushing matters aside. If one refuses to take responsibility for something amiss when it occurs, then one has convinced themselves that they are not responsible once matters grow worse. Pathethic! And rather than actually take that responsibility, what is easier? Desertion. You should know all about that, shouldn’t you, my darling. If no farmers bother to water the plants, should they accept that they are poor farmers, or is it easier to blame the plants for not growing.

Those who were raised the way I was – not taken responsibility of – know all too much about desertion. It’s our one true fear. We know what it does to those left with the burden. We know what it does to the spirits that should have been nurtured. And we recognize, all too well, the scum who try to wash their hands off of all responsibility. Such facades wreak! What’s worse is that they can’t even sense their own stench. Revolting!

But these are the worlds we live in. These are the lambs we have to live with, regardless of what skin they wear today. And Felix needed reminding of what was worth controlling and what was worth accepting. Even dressed in a lion’s fur, a lamb is a lamb. And to expect a lamb to roar, is precious life energy wasted on what will never be. That energy can be used better on other matters, such a thriving amongst the flock. Thriving…

Matters such as accepting who and what my environment was, and that my environment would affect my nature.

Our contemplations were valuable. Felix helped to remind me about such matters, as well. Matters such as accepting who and what my environment was, and that my environment would affect my nature. No wonder I didn’t want to be at the cuphouse that night, surrounded by unscrupulous strangers. I could feel my nature was at stake.

This season, I’m embracing the good directions that Life is flowing me towards. And I must say, this calm acceptance of what Life has to offer is much sweeter than I remember.

Warren came to see me today. He brought little Tally with him. A joy to see them both. An even greater joy to see him being a part of his daughter’s life. He better be… Not that any of us should be worried about that. Our brother truly is a father. And he truly is a brother, bringing his little girl to come visit “Mean Uncle.” I wish she had a nicer title for me. But apparently that’s what she calls me. It’s not my fault that I’m so honest. Not my fault she doesn’t appreciate my honesty. Well, actually. I noticed something today. She was different towards me. She was talking to me. A lot. Constantly. Non-stop. All day. She had too much to say. I wonder why she still referred to me as “Mean Uncle”. Today it was clear how much she trusted me. Was it me that changed? Was it her? Or did our relationship finally fall into place? Oh well. I’ll still happily be Mean Uncle. And she can ask for all the brutal honesty she wants.

Afterwards. Even though I told myself to stop seeing her so often, it just felt so natural to go and see Valentina. Natural. As if Life was flowing us toward each other again. The thought of stopping myself to see her felt too resistive. Felt too unnatural. It didn’t feel like what Life was asking of us. And since I’d been accepting the flow of Life, I let the waters take me. Even if my mind was warning me that I’d already gotten too comfortable with her always by my side, it wasn’t fulfilling to deny us our time together. Whether she accepts this or not, I think we both knew we would see each other. We felt it. As soon as we were both free, just one call… Who even called who? Who knows? It didn’t matter.

Dinner was due, of course. And I had an idea of where I wanted to eat. A flatbread shop, close by. Only problem was that I heard the shop was forever closed. If you know me, you know I had to go see for myself, with my own eyes. So we made way. Sadly, the area looked void of any open businesses. The damned plague! Shops were not surviving its wrath. There was only one place that seemed open. Some what open. Its doors were wide open. I had to peek inside. And what I saw was the most strangely colourful place I’d ever seen in that part of the capital. It didn’t look like it was part of the grey concrete jungle.. It looked like an exotic tropical isle. It was so strange yet fascinating. Even Valentina was shocked at the abrupt change of atmosphere. All in one little shop. Too bad it was only a cuphouse. What we needed was food.

We asked about for any flatbread shops. Apparently, there was one not too far off. When we approached, this shop was much smaller than we expected. Only room for 4 guests. Somewhat disappointing. Luckily, such a feature was not a deterrent for me. I love experiencing anything new. And as I mentioned before, Life was asking for us to dine there. So we did.

Their flatbread was incredible. Not incredible in the extreme sense. But incredible in the perfection and balance. We could both tell. This was the way flatbread was supposed to be. Fresh dough, topped with suitable amounts of meat, vegetable, creams, and spice. Balance. Perfect for those born under the Scales. Just like Valentina and I.

And I know cups had been another matter I’d been meaning to restrict, especially together with her. For her sake. For my sake. For our sake. But it didn’t feel natural for us to not share a toast. We just both knew. Cups suited our mood. Joy. The right way to enjoy cups. And besides, we were both born under the Scales. I trusted we’d keep ourselves in order. I’m sure she trusted that as well.

One problem! With us two. And cups. To only have one cup never felt right. Not good… Sort of… And that weird and wonderful cuphouse was not something we were going to miss. Not a chance in hell! Life was asking for us to go there. And in all honesty, I’m not mad at Life at all.

This cuphouse. The music. The owners.  The effort they put to transform this place into an exotic, tropical, west isle resort. The cups… Valentina and I. We forgot we were just back at home in the capital. Every corner of this establishment was decorated with fun and spirit. Skulls, statues, flowers, creatures, colours, artworks, nonsense. Everything to take you away from the dull greyness of the capital, and far into another world. Even the cups here were decorated the same. I can’t say cups had ever looked so fun and adventurous to me before.

This place was a treasure. Me and Valentina both knew it so. We knew we had to keep it secret. Out of the mob’s sights. Lest they tarnish it with their greed and lack of appreciation. It’s for the best. We know what the mob will do. We know all too well.

There’s something sweet about understanding the waters and flowing with its current. There is always a time to enjoy its dew. And, of course, there is always a time when we must swim as hard as we can. But I can tell, that time is not now. It’s nice to have a break.

Love from yours truly

-Daniel Roy