Crucial is that happiness arises of our brokening. It must grow from the low. Of the fallen.

Longest time of my time I tried to be happy, to escape from it. Most people are trying that. Most development I see is escaping. A way to deceive.

Of course, too. We want to escape the pain. The what was.

A painful constitution even? How absurd. To fix life in its pain. As torture.

Who wants that? Pain and trauma, okay. But only to heal from it, to start a life after the pain.

But that pain always remained, for a lifetime? And more even, that this pain was something like an initial pain, and that the much greater one, a regionality, a topography of pain, was yet to disclose itself to us – how improbable.

But it is so. We arise of the craters. They are real. And in them we can exist.

If we are aware of our pain, our laughter shines fuller.

We don’t have to do anything. Life is completed and begins anew. We have arrived. No cycle, no change. And in this stasis, time bursts. All the colors of the past come to us. Life is richer.

For when so much of life is pain, life without it is thin. Shallow. It bounces on the surface. And it is frail. It must always move. Must never look, must never fall. Must secure itself. Does not like the quiet, the standstill.

There was something to achieve. That we never achieve. Because we are always there. We cannot escape time. Can influence too little. We can only surrender to the world. And in this surrender we have full control.

I cannot explain it. I thought, all thinking and being arises only at and through people. But they are far away. They made me, make up my fabric. But I don’t need their reference. Don’t need to haunt them.

The world is so rich, if I fall onto myself alone.

And so it is with brokenness. If I give myself to it, strength flows through me. Power pumps through time. I stand – for the first time. I stand as an apparition, a forest scene – as light falls through the firs, and dust and insects flicker through the glow, across the path, dry and warm in summer. An apparition – unchangeable. Whole in its own apprehension. And so we stand there, as incident light, as the presence of what we see – so we stand the world. We stand the world as an event, as an addition. We happen to it as children happen to us. As problems happen to us. This is how we happen to the world. And in this happening we are indivisible, hardly analyzable. Not resolvable. We form a whole body, a scene. Nothing can shift us in this brokenness. No pondering and no doubts. No questions – only answers. The answers of standing aside, of standing by. Of supporting ourselves.

Else, reality is frayed. The personal is frayed. We as a couple are frayed. But when everything is at stake, we are one.