Sweden

When I woke up I started to pull my peanut butter out of my backpack and fumbled a little bit with the bread. When I was doing it a bird suddenly decided that he was going to land on my head. He sat there for a second and it filled me with tender joy. The silence of the forest rested it’s surrounding in tenderness. After an hour or more of eating and thinking I got up and walked. Walking was quite a job for me during my travels if I didn’t spend my time thinking. Sometimes walking for hours straight to get somewhere. The highway was not quite far this time and I got a ride easily. It was beautiful to walk in Sweden. Everything was surrounded with forests. The first man who picked me up was a flower and a bird seeker. The second man was an old hippy with an old jeep carrying a caravan. Every time a truck passed, we swayed like a leave. He dropped me off at a place where I waited for two hours. The place where I stood was full of big eating opportunities and parking lots. I hurried from one parking lot to the next to ask people if they could pick me up. A teacher decided in the end to take me. He was very kind and took me under his wing. He drove me all the way to the address what was written in my book. He must have liked the poem I gave him.

I checked the piece of paper again that Michaela gave me and reassured that I was at the right address I knocked on the door but nobody answered so I went around the back. A man was sleeping there and I woke him up.
( he was a very muscular American who appeared to be in his sixties with a deep soft voice and you felt it in his voice that he was lay back)
 

“hello, hello, "

“what are you doing here?”

“I am looking for Michaela.”

“Yeah, and.”

“Is she living here.”

“Maybe, what do you want from her.”

“I have met her in Copenhagen, and she said that I could visit her.”

“Ah, well, come inside, I can look if she is in the house, leave your stuff here.”

He gave me food and told me “well yeah, actually, I remember, her mother is sleeping right now. I don't know where Michaela is. She must come here and take care of us but she always has her phone out of battery.”

After this weird talk the mother woke up. She heard sounds in the living room and was shocked to see me standing there. A big man with long hair.
“Who are you?”
“I am the poet your daughter met in Copenhagen, she said that I could come by.”
Hearing these simple words the mother melted and turned from a shocked almost fearful woman into a charming helpful one. The table was soon piling from all the food put on. “Come in. come in. make yourself at home. You must be starving!? I am Elisabeth and this is Rocky. Don’t mind him. Michaela is not here at the moment but you can sleep in the guestroom of course.”
I could not believe the sincerity in which I was greeted. Happiness was easily laid down and given to the weary.
How amazing it was to see such a huge bed and have the possibility to shower. As I sat down again at the kitchen table and ate to my heart’s content I listened to the answers my questions gave me.
“We met in Israel. It is a long while back.”
“You are a poet Cestmir? Tell us a poem!”
I just finished a short story about a man and a dog and that there was no time. So I told them that one.
When I was done Rocky looked at me with clear eyes. “Cestmir, that story is quite similar to my story. You could even say that you wrote about me.”
and he told me why and I listened in awe.
“I was hitchhiking in America during a snowstorm, with a dog. There was no car anywhere. When the dog ran away, there came a car but I had to catch the dog so I could not get in. The second car that turned up drove past me. I had no hope left and I would die right there. Suddenly a car approached me from the opposite direction and turned. It stopped before me and a woman appeared with a pale face saying: “I never pick up hitchhikers but I heard a voice in my head commanding me to pick you up.”

That was the moment he began to feel Jezus with him.

He was a wonderful story teller and excellent man. I heard that he was a poet in his early days and he was now a teacher of a special class. This man had adorned my heart with tingling’s of adventure. I could not believe that I had stumbled about and found the existence of this man.

After dinner we walked the dog together and we shared some words about life and love. He inspired me. Never before had I met such a man who entrusted his heart to a young boy who came out of nowhere and gave him the old knowledge that laid around in his mind. I wished my dad could have walked the dog with me every evening to spend words with me. With every step that I took towards discovery and dreams I opened yet another doorway where pain could be heard and understood. My life had given me enough bravery to follow the choices of peace. To give way to my hopes of having a dad and a mom who love me for who I am. Of course they loved me but I did not love them.
“How can I love them if they never speak about love with each other.”
“Cestmir, you are searching for peace for who you are. An understanding of where you come from. And that road will take you to many desolate places. You are doing what most men are too scared to do. You are inspiring us Cestmir, never forget that. You are inspiring us.”
Rocky had adopted me as his own son in a few hours and gave me the love of a father.
When it was time to sleep they arranged all the bedding and made sure that I had everything I needed. Family always confronts you the most with who you think you are. Maybe no father or mother can really give a child what it wants. Maybe. Maybe they give exactly what you want but you are not respecting the outcome enough to see it.
“So, tell me Cestmir about your father.”
“Well, what is there to tell?”
“I would love to hear about the pain that you carry inside.”
“Oh, that is easy. I was four when my dad left the family. He left four kids and my mom behind and started another family with four kids and a mom.”
I looked at Rocky but he didn’t say anything.
The memory had left scars behind. It was as if he had traded us for a second chance in life.
“I wanted more attention than that he gave me. For me, it felt as if he never looked back and my childhood was one big plea for my dad. This made me unable to see or give awareness to the other aspects of my life. My brothers and mother and stepdad were casual people who I shared a bond with but I didn’t felt loved.”
“So, you closed yourself off for other opportunities to develop relationships.”
“Yes, I stayed in my room for years and wrote about the world inside of me. Luckily my mom could finally get me out of my room.”
“What did she do?”
“She said that I should experience the world and told me about a festival where I could be a volunteer. My mom had always a way to infiltrate your feelings and push. So I went to the festival and realized that I loved adventure. But what about you?”
“Oh, you don’t want to hear about me. I have lived many life’s and then eventually ended up with my true love in Sweden. That’s the most important to know.”


When I overheard Rocky and Elisabeth arguing the next morning about who was going to mow the lawn I stepped in and did it for them. “No, you should not have to do that!”
“That is the least I can do for all the kindness that you brought me.”
I enjoyed it immensely. Afterwards I found enough food on the table to bring me to heaven.
Elisabeth was pushing Rocky around to finally paint the house but Rocky had no interest in beginning and did everything he could to prolong the decision. “ Rocky, go and find a lift, so you can paint the house.”
“Cestmir, let’s go. We will do what my wife wants…”
So he and I went driving around the countryside in search of a lift so he could reach the top of the house but we were ‘lost’ in the wilderness. When I offered to paint the house for him he said:
 “When you fall off the ladder then I destroy the most promising poet of Holland and I do not want that people from Holland got to know that I was the one.”
We saw Buffalo’s on a farm and went to a friend of his who held hundreds of chickens and then returned home in the evening.

“ Have you bought a lift?”
“No, we saw one but it was expensive.”

I loved to discover and observe Elisabeth and Rocky. They forgave each other very quickly for all the jokes and preferences that they had. Their connection surrounded them and that made me blessed to have found them. So I could learn from their love and take a few more steps towards forgiving myself for who I was. I was amazed that such a big story could lay behind a random meeting on the streets in a different country. I had to thank Michaela for approaching me there in Copenhagen because I really felt that I had to meet Rocky and Elisabeth. They were filling the trust between me and my parents with their ‘adoption’ of me in their family. Elisabeth reminded me of my mother who had a finger in everyone’s business but forgave them for who they were. And Rocky was teaching me how it felt like to have a father looking over my shoulder for my wellbeing.

Rocky got a phone call later on that day from his son who needed help with making a parking spot in his garden. Rocky said yes without even asking his wife. After Rocky gave his wife the news, we all got into the car and drove to the next town where he lived. Michaela and her boyfriend Alexander joined us there. It was strange to meet Michaela there. I wanted to spend time with her and get to know her but I actually felt a stronger bond now with her parents. I could figure out later who I was going spend time with. For now, I was blessed to be surrounded by a family who accepted a stranger in their midst. All of them were helping Rocky’s son with his driveway. There was already a start of the project and we were the muscle who could help dig and pull some more.
“Hello Cestmir, I am Emanuel. I am very pleased to meet you.”
“Very pleased to meet you too. So you need our help?”
Yes, we just want to clear the space so that my car can stand next to my house.”
“Where can I begin?”
He had a son of four who really reminded me of my two youngest brothers and I could not help but take a picture of him. His eyes reminded me of clear skies and he had a personality that was . Together with the men of the family we pulled and dug for some hours and it was fun to be there. It felt good to help them and return the kindness of taking me along. Soon it was time for dinner. It was amazing to see that the whole family was so joyful and happy to be together. I missed that a little bit with my own family. I regretted that I did not spend time with them as much and laughed and shared memories. Maybe I was being a teenager back then but being alone on the road was the best way to realize how special all these brothers were and I hoped they would experience the same kind of openness in their hearts as I did when I sat down at the table in this home after a hard days work. I grew up with three brothers and now my dad had eight sons with two wife’s. There had been a lot a masculine energy growing up but through the puberty of boys, there was always my mother who had been there, not backing up her energy to please us but she made us feel empowered with our own choices. I think it is easy to take things for granted and it was wonderful to see that you could realize how important the small details were.
.
After the dinner I went with Alexander and Michaela to their house. I was curious to stay with them and I hoped to get to know them but in my heart I was still thinking of Rocky. We ate ice-cream and watched Into the wild. ‘Happiness is only real if shared with others.’
It was a line of the movie and I found it resonating with me.

I came to Sweden to give an answer to the kindness of a girl and I had met a whole family who shared their story with me.

The boy who reminded me of my brothers:



Michaela and the whole family went to church on Sunday and so I was going with them. I was really sad to see Rocky leave my life yesterday but now I got another chance to see the great man.
A woman of the family who grew up in Africa ( the mother in law of Emanuel) was holding a speech about what she did in Africa for the homeless children. Emanuel sat next to me and translated it. I could not believe how generous this family was and how patient. After the speech there was a friend of Emanuel who was being Baptized.
And then it happened. A spark of inspiration moved through my body. It felt it way up my spine and I was left with surprise. Suddenly I felt the love that this great family had for each other grasp my heart and this urge of becoming one with them fueled my desire. It made me decide, nearly, that I was going to be Baptized as well. I had this feeling of freedom that burned inside my chest. It was as if the holy ghost was there. And I felt suspended in hope. It was a strong feeling of commitment. It left me with a feeling of melancholy. Ever since I was little, faith had intrigued me. I took interest in God and went to a church group when I was fourteen. I listened to the presentations presented to me and asked whatever came to my mind. I asked anything and rambled on about my perspectives on God and they were not upset. Instead they listened without judging my idea’s. It amazed me that everybody listened gracefully and with care.
“You are blindly following a leader into love. You are like the Nazi’s but then opposite.”
My interest was so great because I wanted know why so many people believed in Jesus and in that church in Sweden I felt the beginning of it. It was the love around me that solidified. Belief inspired me to look at these people who gave their goodness to each other and cared for nothing more than the love that created itself. I felt in that church in Sweden that love was the foundation of belief. It did not matter if Jesus was really the son of god or that he had lived. What matters was that people could be inspired by this tale and live closer to love by believing in him. I did not really know what I had to think about the whole ordeal of religion but I certainly could see the beauty of having faith in something. It made you part of a community and therefore could support you in your search for connection.

After the church was over we all went to Emanuel’s house. He was celebrating the Baptism of his friend and I was invited to eat along.
I was grateful that I could be a part of this family. I felt truly one with them and I never had experienced such an acceptance of freedom. By stepping out of the desire to be close with my pain I could open up and experience the freedom of love. The piece of me that was hiding in the shadow of his desires laughed at me and wanted to learn how to trust. Not only my father but also my oldest brother ‘left’ me when I needed him. The police dragged him out of the house and brought him to a mental hospital when I was fourteen because society said that he had Schizophrenia and he could not live with us anymore. My mom made the call and it was a tragic day in all our lives as a family. It was a tragic way to see my best friend go with so much force and decisiveness. I never had forgiven my brother for that. I thought that he would know better after our dad left. That was one of the reasons that I wanted to leave. Rocky and Michaela and Emanuel and Elisabeth were reminding me of the love that a family had for each other and seeing them taking me from the streets and giving me a home for a few days gave me a gratitude for my own family.
The food and companionship was delicious. And I shared some interesting topics with the family. About god mostly but as long as there is more Love and Happiness than you can sign me in for the ride.

Ice-cream and movies:



The blog post around that time:
Right here, I got a strange sense of goodness wash over me. I was taught to believe that religion was nonsense but I was experiencing a wonderful feeling that took away my negative emblems about God in this church. I was really overthrown with the people who got baptized, and the feeling of all the people singing along and standing up and do what the heck they must do! for this was a wonderful place, and all of a sudden, I began to realize that I was ready to stand up and say. I want to get Baptized, I want to pray, in front of the whole church in hope that my relationship with my brother will get healed. I was ready to take a leap of faith and I was ready to embrace the holy spirit. For I am searching, and doubting that there is something out there. A feeling took over, I felt it fluttering my belly, it was saying, Rise up! Rise up from the ashes!

But I did not do it.

And then suddenly it was time for me to go. I thanked Michaela so much for this expansion of connection and wished her all the best with all of her life. I left Sweden with the train. I tried to hitchhike at first but after hours of walking and waiting I understood that it was maybe better to take the train.

\

so that subject was out of the order, i could look to my own path again. i was street performing again with Peter jones, and that was the time a little group of friends took my attention, i wrote them a poem, in the meantime Tess was in the picture and she was there when i performed my poem to the group, it was very good and they gave more than 100 kroons,





Than i began to walk with Tess for a long while until we finally took a place to rest, and it was wonderful, to get to know Tess and talk about our family's and such. I was going to visit her family in Spain when i was there.

copenhagen

It was time for me to leave the Gardens of Odense and set foot again in the blank painting of discovery. Christina had made me a lunch box and she wished me good luck. As I left the green area of my newfound friends I wondered if I was ever going to see them again. I had really enjoyed my visit with them and surely I berated myself a little bit, wishing I could have enjoyed more, but as my feet guided me further towards the unknown I grudgingly accepted that I did not want to go back or change the past. My sustenance laid elsewhere. I had hope that I would return again after a few years and mingle with them more. For now, I wanted some impossible things and I could only rest if I had obtained these impossible things. A fairytale of love should be enough to keep me satisfied and I should be able to acquire this wish if I would only follow the road onwards, to new highways and the adventures that promised to wash over me in splendor and riches. Piet stopped with his car when he saw me hitchhiking. It was crazy to jump from one adventure into the next but that was what I did. I was going to Copenhagen this time. “I am not from the Netherlands kid, my parents just liked Piet as a name. But I have a Dutch boat! Oh. I know. Why don’t you name the boat? I just bought it and I could not come up with a name so far.”
It was fascinating to see how fast experiences could vary, the more I went deeper into my journey.
“Oh..! what about Wise Man?”
“Mmm…I like that Cestmir. Let’s go with that, although I will change it to Wise Woman. It is better that way I think.”
With every new stranger I met, I acquired new information about the mindset of the world. Even if people were different, they were all shaped by the same standards and mindset, Ideals and boundaries. Even countries don’t differ so much from each other. Internet has made us one big web of connection and I reaped the harvest by interacting with the people that I met and learning the trades of their personalities and perceptions. Their dreams and hopes and fears and worries were soaked in every word and gesture they inhabited and I loved to discover the pieces of their puzzle. It was honoring to see how they opened up and shared these intimate windows into their behavioral system. So many things could inflict change and growth into minds and souls. The world of boats could teach you a different array of tools and knowledge than the world of animals. Each having their own distinctive lessons and bearings. It was the beauty of aligning these worlds and letting them blend that gave me a spectrum of insight and I absolutely adored the capacity to jump from one lesson to the next, bringing along the loss and gain of forgetfulness and remembrance.
“You know Cestmir, saying goodbye has nothing to do with your incapability to stay. It just is a natural process of experimenting and failing and doing it again. As the world turns, we turn with it and experience the rising and falling of gravity.” As Piet explained to me, we were another piece of the cycle of nature. Another phenomenon that just procured a brain to calculate with but it was nothing more than a skill to monitor the world, humanity just thought they had gotten the power to change everything. Civilizations have come and wiped out the previous owner of the land time and time again. We disrupted nature and had damaged the earth. A constant wave of expression guided us through the ages and we interacted with the wave and history was forged out of the clash, but what if we use our ability to make history and create a constant wave of strive with it. To procure the knowledge that is needed to forge an alliance with experience. Life would be a classroom. A constant discovery of information about the adequacy of human. I would like that.
“The most humble thing you can do is to pass on the strength and the knowledge that you have obtained.”

My journey brought me to Copenhagen. Piet drove all the way and wished me good luck when I stepped out of the car. Fresh and peaceful were the display of emotions inside of me. I just discovered a new city! The mysteries and the secrets that lay still in the unknown future were immense. I had some adventure plans that I could do in the city but they could wait for the right time to be acknowledged. As I chose a direction and began to follow my footsteps a bridge came into view. This was some fine vantage point in which I could linger for a moment. I stood there. Life was presented to me as timeless moments that came by and left again. Who knew what my family was doing and if they missed me. I stood there, viewing a horizon that could be viewed upon by me. A dot in an endless sea of motions. Maybe adventure just needed some courage to stand still.
A girl with Dreadlocks and a basket full of food came to stand next to me. I felt a tingling of my senses wanting to speak to the girl. I tried to glance every so often without being noticed.  I felt a great adoration for her that made me silent. After a few minutes she turned to me and asked: “Would you like some fruit?”
“Yes. Do you want a poem?”

Our eyes met each other and a connection was made.
“My name is Emma.”
A hand was given to me.
“My name is Cestmir”

As she gave me some fruit she asked me where I was going.
“I just arrived, I have no idea where I am going.”
“Well then, you can come with me. I know which place you should visit.”

It seemed like adventure had taken me in her arms and rocked me as a little child as if she knew what I wanted. She gave me a guide and I was more than happy to move with the motion. Emma and I sat down in Christiania and started sharing stories. Christiania was a village inside Copenhagen. Full of hippies and weed. It was a nice place for the people who wanted to escape from the world. Emma told me she was a traveler for almost 5 years. A hitchhiker who came from America. She ate only raw food and followed lessons of making raw food. This was the first contact I made with a fellow traveler and to be honest I felt a little overwhelmed to meet her. I guess it was like meeting my old time hero. it made me feel alive and strong and I just wanted to say how my heart wielded for the connection that I felt between us. I wanted to shout out: “We are the same!”
It was most interesting to be able to talk to her.
She was the very first comrade in my travelling escapade that I met so of course I was excited to spend time with her. My senses caught a whim of her experience throughout those five years and I was wondering to myself how I could extract it, to learn from it and hear stories about the many wanderings that engraved her heart with knowledge. Unfortunately I still had not figured out how attraction worked and what it meant for me. This gave me a shyness in which I hid my longings. It was difficult for me to bypass my learning process of life and get out of my head. And it did not help that any question that remotely asked her to give me detailed secrets of her loneness was being refused gently. I felt that she didn’t know what to do with my curiosity and I began to write her poem instead. I asked her three words and it was nice to fall back on my writing and sit there with her. And then we heard a ruffle.
Our presence became noticeable: We saw a little girl coming from in between the trees. This little girl had colorful silken ornaments around her body. Her hair was brown as were her eyes and she graced herself with the bare footprints she left behind.
 With a charming smile she asked:
 “Can I sit with you? you two look nice.”

As she came closer I felt a strange feeling of respect come over me.
With a childish attitude she sat in front of us and mesmerized herself about my backpack. I smiled foolishly. I asked if could make her a poem also. The two lady’s had a good time talking to each other while I was writing the poems. Inspiration flowed again as I was dancing with the feelings that surrounded me. This eerie sense of respect dwelled in my head as I wrote the poem of the little girl. It pushed words on paper that wanted to express. I soon stopped writing when I heard the girl speak her story. My hand stopped it’s movement and I came back to what my surroundings gave me.
“I walked for two years and then came here…”
my mind expanded and I had to take the bait.
“Wait? You walked for two years?”
“Yes.”

The little girl was a story. Immediately I felt confronted with myself. Emma and I were both shocked and a little taken aback by the brazenness of what she revealed. It was a story wherein this little girl left on a journey.
“I was living with my parents but then I got put in a mental hospital because I was acting weird but I escaped and now I am here.”
She left and walked. In the way she said it, it was as if she did not think twice about it and her home was nothing more than an experience that had given her freedom. She had qualities that were powered by bravery and strength to accept elegantly the limitations of choice and she never made a fuss about it. She had felt an inevitable push towards being free from society, from her predestinate life and she followed it. For six months she travelled, hitchhiked: barefoot. The choice somehow wasn’t hers. It was decided from every experience she had been a part of, forming this longing for wildness within her. That her surroundings put her into a mental hospital was only the last drop of entanglement she couldn’t take. She was fourteen years old. I felt the world giving me a revelation: I had a natural arrogance that was blunt and It had no idea what it did but it wanted to be unpredictable. The residue of traumatic pain pulled my impulses to react with enthusiastic bursts of energy that startled the people I was most fond of. Seeing this little girl, going about so gently and self-contained gave me the challenge to seethe through the understanding I had of myself and ask myself If I stood for what I saw. For the first time I was confronted by the madness of freedom: This little girl had grown up in a world of restrictions and slowly obtained the resilience that made her rebel.
As it grew inside of her, pieces of her old self were chipped away bit by bit as if the acknowledgment that you did not want to be stuck in their opinion shattered the way you were. Revelations and epiphanies scoured the chances to attain new awareness. Yes! This is why I travelled! I had been stuck in a rhythm of expressing myself that I did not agree on. Stagnated I had gone through life! And I did it all because I wanted to believe in their values. I had my own dreams and  didn’t know why I was unpredictable or acting sad. I only knew that I wanted to change. And this little girl gave me the reflection of understanding again that I had a responsibility towards all the people that I left. It wouldn’t be fair to them if I did not do what I intended to do when I made the choice to abandon them. It was a sacrifice to begin again and it was only fair to discover fully what my new beginning was all about. Only a few people can get a second change in life and so I would better make the most of it. This desire to make the most out of it consumed and terrified me and pushed me to ascertain certain revelations that came suddenly and blew my old self away. To trust on your instinct to let go of all life and begin again. This was a fine example of death and rebirth; The world is changing and we change with it. There comes a time when you have to give up: there is a different wind now and you have no influence in its course. Change comes with a song and a tale and a painful lesson about humility and probably someone meeting his demise. But I believed I had a responsibility to leave sorrow behind and free myself from bad vibes. It was a belief in the fairytale of life. In the utmost density that love could wrap around my skin and make me fall in love with the sign of ocean like sceneries. I had a vague hope that life could be like this. And that hope grew stronger as I watched the little girl. How could this small girl exist? Why do I have the privilege to know her? All these questions were rippling on the surface of my mind. I was stupefied and suspended in awe and air. Before I could contemplate these questions though,  two men with bicycles arrived who asked us if we wanted to come with them to their sleeping place. I needed a moment to acclimatize that the world was bigger than us three and I felt disrupted from the start with the appearance of the boys. The two lady’s had met them earlier apparently.
The girls were quicker to respond to the new arrivals and agreed so I went along with them. During our walk across Christiania we stopped once by a beach. The water was shallow and riffled gently in the wind. Much to my fascination I saw the little girl stepping into the water and at once my questions were fading into a desire to go after her. I contemplated on it for a short time but could not resist the impulse that wanted to.  And the whole world stood still.

 My pants became wet and I walked barefoot after her and I was lost in the moment. I felt the little fish eating away at my feet, the wind through my hair, the stillness of the water around me and it was just a measure of the peace that rolled through the veins. The little girl who was lost in her stare. Lost from the world. A world on her own. A world with no horizon. Where the wind chased dreams and we just experimented with experiences. It made me happy beyond believe to feel the stillness of her. As if looking back was a fool’s errand. There was only that moment and in that moment of fish biting my toes there was a little girl who taught me what it meant to step into a world without time or expectations.



When we came back to the world again it was a short while until we got to the camping place. They had made a little community along the riverbed. A fire was made and as the evening came upon us I felt that the story of that day was ending. I was at a loss. I didn’t know what was expected of me or if I should go. The truth was that I did not want to of course. I wanted to spend time with my newfound stories. But as soon as we arrived they followed their own footsteps and I had lost track of the little girl. Emma went inside the tent of one of the boys and I even felt jealous because of it. The poems that I would give them were not done yet so I finished them while I was waiting for them to reappear. The fire crackled onwards as I discussed silently with myself what I should do. Doubt made me ponder. I waited until Emma reemerged from the tent and she came to me.
“Hey Cestmir, you already have a place to sleep? I have to say that you cannot stay here. The boys want you to go.”
A flare of anger rose inside. They want me to go!? How  could I be so stupid! Of course they want me to leave. I had nothing to give them and I was a fool by thinking otherwise. I had not the resilience then to protect my own. Steadfast I tumbled into their energy and overwhelmed myself with their opinions. It was clear how easily doubts justified themselves. Bravery I had not so I choose compliance. If I had bravery by my side that day I would have stormed off to the tents of these boys and tell them that to my face. But I wanted to belief in my own pity so I agreed and even forgot my own ability to fight back.
“Yes, of course I will go. I just have the poem that I wrote for you. And I wanted to ask ‘you mentioned a Swedish festival going on in one month?’ Do you want to go with me to that festival?”
This was a last hope. A straw, grasping to be
“I am going with the boy here.”
“Oh. Okay, yeah, that is fine.”
It was not really fine. I felt betrayed somehow. It was the first time that I experienced the impact my expectations could have on my mood. I thought that she liked me and I took this as a rejection. After I recited the poem I went on my way.
I left the fire place with a feeling of regret. Somehow It seemed as if my hope had been taken away from me. I felt sorry for myself. It was a weird feeling. My existence was laying expectations on people and if they were not reached my hope was affected and changed. I had no idea why because I should realize that anything she said was nothing more than the perception of her reality. Emma had her own life with other goals and I could not expect her to commit to my inner journey of peace or even that she comprehended what I wanted and react on it, so why should I feel affected by her words and decisions. It seems that we all grow up with a strong belief about everything around us. And the process of losing faith in these beliefs made us vulnerable to doubt. It was attraction that interacted with my heart and had power over me. I gave her this power by being attracted to her so it was my fault. Attraction was a dangerous game of crashing perceptions. Expectations came up that gave me doubts about my right to live. It went deep.

Apparently, the guys who invited us didn’t expect my arrival and they wanted me to leave and I made myself comply to their request. I had been confronted once again with my fear of attraction and I used this request as an escape goat to run away. My secret attraction towards Emma had prolonged my stay there and I should have known that I was not welcome. I should leave. I took all the blame for my preposterous outbreak of feelings. I was still a beginner in the attraction game of life. I wanted to feel pushed aside and I did.

I took the blame easily. never was good in standing up for myself. I rather just shrugged my shoulders if I felt bad and ignored the chance of defending. I was born with a slow mind. An infection that my mom got when she was giving birth to me killed some of my smaller brain cells which meant I needed some more time to talk and explain myself than, let’s say, my older brother who would always end my sentences for me. This made my heart find the time needed for expression in poetry rather than giving myself time in conversations. I was just a young man who forgot that he could take the time that he needed to express. And even if I had the balls to take my time to express, I knew than that an endless stream of stories would escape my lips and someone had to shut my mouth for me. I would rather wait until I knew for sure that I had something interesting to say. Emma had enough strength to decide her own fate. I did not think it was necessary to tell her about my heart. I did not want to contaminate the free will of the persons I met by influencing them. During my traveling about I began to learn that free will was not something given or taken away but it was difficult to accept that I was worthy of expressing myself.











The little girl observing my backpack:


Did you wander?” the little girl asked.
“Yes. I wandered.”
“Did you see the world?” the little girl asked.
“Yes. I saw the world.”
“And what did it say?”
“It told me that there was a little girl sitting inside of me.”
“Oh, did it speak about me?”
Yes. It spoke about you.”
“And what did it say about me?”
“it said that I have to remember you.”
“And how do you remember me?” the little girl asked.
“The world said that I have to write down stories, and through the stories I would find the little girl.”
“And have you found me.”
“Not yet little girl, not yet.”


I tried to forget about Emma or the little girl. Copenhagen was the city that surrounded me and there had to be other stories out there, waiting for me. I slept in numerous places around Christiania in the following days, walking and sitting on benches. Being free of protection or friends who wanted to give me tea gave me the possibility to feel how life felt all alone. I could focus on my primal needs and nothing else could distract me from myself. It was a never-ending experiment of loneliness and aloneness. The idea of happiness was fighting inside of me. I wanted to know if I could sit still and be happy. I wanted to know if life could accept someone who sat still most of the days. Mostly I was scared, but that was the whole experiment of going. To reach in the abyss of my thoughts and answer those questions that wanted to know what commitment meant and to who I wanted to be committed to. I loved to sit on benches and dwell on lingering thoughts. I found myself thinking and observing most of the time. My mind would deal with all the impulses that it never followed. Ideas came about the creative ways in which I could express myself and I fantasized about the consequences of imaginary actions. I let all ideas pass by until I found an instinct of balance that forced me to act. A balance where desire and expectation met an agreement. I took the time to digest time as it went by and interact swiftly by the time I felt ready to interact. It was hard to wait for an escape out of my mind but that was what I needed to do. I needed to think about the silence of everything in order to throw myself out again into the chaos of everything. I didn’t want to express anything just to fill the void of nothing.
It was fascinating to discover and explore the wideness and the range in which a mind could express itself. The fulfillment was lacking. The Happiness was still lacking, but I had hope that I could find gratitude one day for living. It was wonderful to be able to relax amidst all the fuss of human kind. I saw stories tumbling over each other and I could not join them with their celebration. They did a good job without me and I didn’t want to ruin their independency of me by making them aware of my existence. I think I was scared to become an individual.
As I was sitting on a bench one day I saw a lovely attractive girl looking at me. She turned away when I was looking. Somehow I decided that it was a good day to begin exercising my impulses.  I decided to be bold and make her a poem. It turned out to be a love poem and I scared myself. My boldness had exposed my feelings a little too much and I could feel that she felt awkward. I didn’t know how to ease myself into comfortable situations. Desire weaved its way onto the paper and I loved to just give all of me in the first moment. That is what I loved about the stage. I had been entertaining people since I was ten. I loved going on stage and being seen because it gave me the ability to express who I was but all the emotions I had inside of me were not confident enough to explain the expression. If people would have questions about the performance I would stutter and be uncomfortable. I would say things that made no sense. I was scared of commitment. So I rather left as soon as I made my poem and wished them a good day. Poetry was a way to maneuver words around and confuse myself. I liked to be confused. It gave me the opportunity to run away from clarity. So I excused myself quickly and went my own way again. I didn’t want to confront myself with situations where I felt awkward. But this life was still a discovery of stories so I had to keep trying and there was another chance a few days later. A girl with a guitar on her back was seen walking in the center of town. I tried to talk her.
 She didn’t see me following her footsteps at first. She walked slowly and seemed lost. I trailed her from behind and tried to keep my distance. For a couple of seconds I walked a couple of meters beside her when she suddenly turned around and looked at me. I was caught! Instantly I stood still, trying to blend in with my surroundings.
My efforts to hide were in vein as I saw how she walked towards me. I smiled as she came closer. She moved with freedom and a familiar stride of reassurance.
“Hello, I am Michaela and I want to have a nice time here in Copenhagen. Do you know a good place?”
Her voice spoke of friendship and I liked it.
It seemed that life had granted me a gift to interact. This girl carried some magic with her and I was intrigued and honored by her arrival.
“Nice to meet you Michaela, I am Cestmir and I know a perfect spot! Let’s go there now.”
She accepted with gratitude and surprise.
“I have a few hours of exploring that I can do and then I will take the train back to Sweden. But I always wanted to see Copenhagen.”
She was a lovely girl. Very friendly and open.
I decided to stay with her until she went back to Sweden and she didn’t mind.
Whenever I met someone I would have huge expectations about the development of our bond. I was constantly thinking about the possible futures that could happen and develop over time. Afraid of the unknown.
"Throughout the day we shared chatter and laughter and I realized that it was not so difficult to meet a girl on the streets. It just took some time to open up and be comfortable about the attention I was getting. As the hours went by we found ourselves back in the city center and I had an idea.
“What if we performed together on the streets?”
She thought about it for a second but agreed.
We picked a spot and as she played, I tried to recite some of my poetry. Everything was a haze of adventure and it was bold and brave.
 Afterwards she had to go to her home in Sweden.
“If you ever find yourself in Sweden, come and look for me”
She gave me her address and off she went.

Attraction was fascinating to me.

The next day I decided that I wanted to meet the singer songwriter friend of Koen Brouwer. Koen was a friend of mine back in the Netherlands. We used to write poems together and he gave me an album of his band. He wanted me to deliver it to a singer songwriter he met in Copenhagen. Of course I delivered it. It turned out that the friend was a family man. A great man with stories full of magic. When he sang I could feel his emotions swiveling about and through me. I got goose bumps. He was a street artist for 28 years and in the last year he made a song about two other street artists who were in love but could not be together. This was the first song he wrote in five years. The song was called ‘Never play with hearts.’ The memory of his voice reminds me still of my younger self who listened to it for the first time and felt amazed. He invited me to eat as many sandwiches as I wanted. When I stopped he asked me: “Do you really want to stop?”
“No.”
He gave me the sandwiches back and I followed his instructions to eat what I truly wanted.  When the sandwiches were all in my belly we began to go to the streets of Copenhagen and I was guided into a world of street performers who stood on the streets daily to express their art. It was beautiful to see that they all had their own intricate ways of showing emotion and vulnerability. A heart had so many ways to make itself known. The world was one big discovery of never ending surprises. Street performers were gathered around the fountain in the center of Copenhagen and they all were unique in their attributes and capabilities but all seemingly tied together in a play of humanity. Their music explored by their own understanding of themselves and who they wanted to be. And I watched as they performed, one by one, as the people in the city passed them by, as some of them stood still and listened. It was beautiful to see how these street performers had made their own stage and were placing their gift in the hands of freedom. People could stop and listen or they could ignore them and pretend they never existed. It was a trail of bravery. It took guts to show your heart and let yourself be judged by all these people. The property of human dignity that all men had was not seen so often. It took time to stand still and actually see past the expectations of your own heart. People got carried away easily by their own greed. Humankind always competed against each other and did their best to stand out but dignity could always be found beneath the layers of self-protection. When I stood amidst the street performers I felt this greed to rush over and let my excitement blow everyone away. That was so natural for a young kid to have. I walked into a world where fascination triggered me. Performing on the street was a normal thing to do for them but I felt like a fresh wind, still in need of understanding that it took a controlled version of excitement to touch people. To lay your passion into a gentle river of peace. I did not want to think about peace. Surely I wanted to learn how to control the facets of freedom that I was given but first I had to let loose and dive in expressing. If I did not learn how to express my forceful confronting soul that was dying for attention, how could I ever expect that I could attain the opposite? There was a mic and together with a man who played the djembe I performed my poems on the streets for the first time. I used the change to experiment to the fullest. This new experience was a world of limitless fields and in those fields I played. I was all about sharing my happiness. There was no border. I shared my energy, my expression, my words with nothing holding me back. People got scared and ignored me. I was an exploding ball of passion and I was everywhere. It was definitely something I wanted to do more often. The beauty of experimenting and showing yourself in all your colors is the ability to reflect on it. We have the means to confront ourselves with our desires. It was amazing to feel able to say and do what you really wanted to. Without confrontation there was no growth possible. It took me a time to realize that there was nothing more beautiful that I could do than expressing my heart even if it was terrible at self-control or respecting boundaries. I just had to trust that I did not do it because I was a bad person but because nobody showed me the ropes of existence. It was quite early in my life that I came to know that nobody really knew what or who I was. It was obvious that my family could not help me to become happier with myself or answer the many questions I had about my own heart. When I figured out that nobody knew who I really was and therefore nobody could really help me or give me the expectations that I wanted them to give me, I started to help myself. When I was ten I came up to a girl I loved and improvised a story for her. In high school I started to dance in the cantina after I was bullied. It was surprisingly easy to entertain people and I felt that I inspired myself in the process. People had a tendency to pick up on the waves of bravery. Beauty never got old. It only changed form. The street performers in Copenhagen really inspired me and a tear escaped my eye when I heard Koen’s friend sing his song. ‘Never play with Hearts.’ I wanted to seek the existence of love in the depths of me and I gladly took the liberty to change my destiny. I did not want to get stuck at a certain age and fall into a systematic pattern of limitations. No! I wanted to evaluate all the options constantly and bring about change when all hope seemed lost. I had still some fire inside of me that wanted to find a place where it could express without hurting anyone. There were some couple incidents in the past where I had been berated for the fire that expressed without thinking and I took it very personal so I didn’t do it anymore. But it was actually weird to stop doing something you love because it seemed to hurt certain people. It was far more interesting to gather the people around me who would not find it hurtful and who could handle the fire that wanted to seize and sizzle with the flick of a hand. We were seemingly tied to desires and destined to find the places where these desires came true. So if I were you, I would watch carefully which desires you choose.

It led me to Michael. Michael was a man who got introduced by me via the street performer scene and he was the one recording my extravagant first performance on the streets. He was an audience member who liked to see all the rich vibrant voices and instruments joining forces.
“Cestmir, you should calm down.”
And so it began.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that you are scaring people away. How can you inspire them if you scare them away? If I were you I would learn how to interact with peace before I throw myself of the cliff of expression.”
“oh, Really?”
“Yes.”
I could count on Michael to confront me with my own insecurities. Therefore I liked him very much.
“You should do Poetry slams.  That is a good way to learn how you could express with peace.”
I almost wanted to tell him that I did a lot of Poetry slams in the Netherlands but I did not want to berate his kindness.
“oh yes, I was looking for those!”
“You ever did some poetry slams in your country?”
“Yes! I even competed in a competition with one of my stories and won the third price of all the Netherlands.”
“That’s good.”
He didn’t seem too surprised to hear that news. How fun it is indeed to have a conversation with people! You never knew how a person would react and this scared me to celebrate life. You could give the same piece of information to several people and they could all give you a different response. How did that work? The uniquely gifted attributes bestowed upon us by nature were all the same but somehow they adapted to the circumstances and created different personalities. It was fascinating to receive multiple perceptions and contemplate on the origin of these differences. The beauty of interaction is the ability to transcend these differences and find the peak in which we understand once again that we are equal in our range to feel. Most people just don’t give others the opportunity to be aware of that. Maybe the way in which we expressed could agitate us or it could form an awkward silence but we all had the same capacity to explore and teach each other how to fulfill our hearts. I loved the idea of sharing feelings. To listen to what the other had to say and forgive each other for the words you exchanged. Whatever you mentioned or said, it was never going to be the exact verbal representation of who you are. Sometimes I wonder if discovery is all what we have. It is a constant struggle to remind ourselves that there is always more to learn. For me anyway. I always think that I am the wisest that I will ever be. I also think that I am the fool all the time. It is so abstract and weird to know that so many personalities live inside of us with so many different feelings and angles in which their thoughts affect our behavior. Can we ever express our pure behavior to someone? To let them see who we are? I don’t think so. We can only give them our personalities and it is up to them to decide if they want to engage and investigate how they could stick with us. Gratefully listen to the emotions that rise and fall and decide what to do with them. Falling in love with someone is an act of surrender. The question is, What kind of love do you want to create? I would rather create happiness and fulfillment than that I would scare people but that was what I did according to Michael. I don’t think he was trying to take away my happiness and fulfillment, he was just trying to point out a possible consequence that love could bring. And I was happy to agree.


When love comes like storm, when love comes like caress, be strong and smooth. Cautious like the snake, innocent like the dove. Be the bee that stings and the fly that flies.


“Cestmir, I like you. I have looked on the internet and have found three poetry slams that are going to happen in one week here in Copenhagen. Let’s go to all three and see how you do.”
“Okay. Let’s do that.”
Michael went away in the evening after we spend the day together and when he left I felt alone. The day had been full of people that I had admired and listened to and  the strange feeling of being alone confessed it’s emptiness to me. It had felt like a family left me. As a child I always had brothers around and parents who influenced me and made me feel part of a family. This was a feeling that I began to resent, that’s why I left. I wanted to be alone but I had still a lingering desire to be part of something. I was struggling to grasp what I wanted. As I stepped into a new world where I relinquished the title of brother, son or nephew I felt better but I did not escape the feeling of resentment. I blamed myself for seeking family while I was at the same time blaming myself for being alone. I adopted loneliness as my safe heaven to crawl back into while I was not sure about what I wanted or why. Resentment followed me around and did not let go of me. Borders of limitations were trying to break at my command but it would not budge as long as I did not really know why I did not want to be a part of a community. My desire to break the chains of connection brought me the opportunities to answer these questions.
The poetry slams were all in the same week and they were all a week away.
I Slept in Christiania every day since I got in Copenhagen and now it was time to move again. I did not want to wait until the poetry slams were over. I had spent one month in Copenhagen and I needed to break away from the city. That was the first feeling I got when I woke up. that I needed to get out of Copenhagen. Fortunately I had the address of Michaela still and so my path was chosen. But first I was about to meet Tess.

I was writing poems on the streets when I met Tess. Tess was the second in line most beautiful girl who I ever saw. Tess was a daughter of Samantha, and Samantha was one of the best friends of my Mother back In the day. Tess and I played together when we were little kids and Samantha said that we were both really quit and played together all the time. Tess met me when I was just finishing the poem for some people. I recited it and everyone loved what I wrote. Secretly I found it delicious that Tess met me while I was making this poem. Seeing Tess as a grown woman made me realize that the bond we had as children was still there. a spark of memories who just needed to be awoken. It took me only a second to fall in love with her. Tess was a star sign person who was really into the energy that the stars and planets gave us. I made her a poem and she said that it explained exactly who she was. Her family lived in Barcelona but came from Denmark. She had three younger siblings who lived with her mother and their father in Barcelona. His name was Mads. Tess had another father. Family weaved into each other as stories that held the keys to freedom. Mads and Samantha had lived in the Netherlands in the past and we were molded into one family back then. For me, Samantha had always stayed a second mother to me and the children were brothers and sisters who I loved immensely.

Together with Cristina they shared a history. Long lost friends as you may call them. Back in those days it seemed that freedom was just everywhere. I had this great sense of wildness and comfort that I carried in my bones from that time. I wanted to meet and visit all of these friends to see if my bones were mistaken or if they told of some dynasty of love that did not carry its teachings into the change of time. Back when I was a child there were huge celebrations of friendship and freedom in my backyard. Or this is how I fantasized it. All of these long lost friends scattered across the lands when time passed and I was curious if the puzzle that they had created could be fixed again.  My greatest wish was to redesign my childhood and what better way was there but to visit the past. so I followed footsteps my parents left behind and learned a little bit more about them along the way.
Tess was a mind-blowingly good looking female, but I could not say that to her because I was foolish. She explained that she was really getting annoyed, by all the men who saw her only as pretty and did not look further. Tess was a woman who had such a good heart that I wanted to dance with her and be there for her(not because she was spring captured in a rainbow.)
As I saw her walking towards me for the first time I felt like there was a long lost sister of mine walking towards me. The grace and the memories that she embodied were endless. As she walked towards me I felt destiny opening up and a puzzle piece of history gave itself freely to the foolish boy who dreamed of miracles. We decided that we had to see each other again.
The poem I gave her was really accurate so she wondered how I could write it all down.
“ I don’t know. Somehow I feel the words and they create a pattern.”
“Well, it is very special Cestmir. I never met anyone who could write my essence down and do it so effortlessly.”

Tess dropped me off at the train into Sweden and I hoped everything was going to be all right. I used the train because I needed to be back in time for the Poetry slams. it was late and when I got off the first train in Malmo I did not see the bus that was planning on taking me further. I followed a group of strangers for a while and saw a forest where I laid down.







Tess:
 

Angels eyes silenced.

Whisps of smoke gathered
That was the history of a girl who lived willingly

Songbirds hears the stories she speaks softly

As if dreams of childlike wishes consume the time with their kisses
And if we might follow these obscure streets of wonder,
than timeless halls of paradise could meet us in the world where love resided

And her song, whisped in the wind
around the corners we sing.
opening the eyes of angels

---

We meet and meet again
discover new greetings to find a renewal of art in the life that we give ourselves

I am a pilgrim
meeting the silence that god gives me
to trust the love that we give and the life that we life

we meet and meet again
on the road that leads nowhere
it is already there where we thought it was supposed to be

My first perfomance in Denmark

I lived another couple of days,

In the beginning I was wondering, if it was good to settle down for a couple of days and now i know that it was all worth it, every single bit, every second was another journey that destiny has settled out for me.

I had to do something so i started to walk towards the city of Odense, to sell my poems.
I realised soon after that Odense people are not fond of poems, so i started to sit and read a book. Then all of a sudden two Americans came to me because they wanted to know about the lives of Denmark people. I said, i am not a Danish man but i can make you a poem. and so i started to write them a poem, and , they liked it.

That was a break throught for me,
I had giving up, there and then for a short moment.
But this meeting was giving me the answer that i had to make poems and i had to fight again and again. So i did , but not one would let me. then i found myself  in a park where i met three lovely girls, i could feel the positive energy so i started to walk to them, i said: "Do you like poems." And they said yes and i said: "Do you like experiences you always remember for the rest of your live." and they said yes. So i said: "than i'm your man."

They really liked the poem, and they gave me an invite, to a open mic for poets and spoken word artist and people like that. So i knew i had a performance, and i knew that this is why i keep fighting.

Eventually it pays off.

Friday was the day. The day that my dream would be a little closer to becoming reality.
But first i ran into the Americans again, and they had a whole gang of Americans today and they shared the poem with them and they were like, we want a picture with you, because , one day you will become famous.
Always dream and one day you can share your dream with other people. Never under estimate your power.

When i came into the room where the open mic was i was feeling good vibes, so i said to myself . I will blow their minds , one girl, from the park was also performing there but it was all in Danish. It was a shame she didn't do a english one, just for me. The presentor was really looking forward to my share because the girl talked about me. and i gave them something of my style, a fairy tale, a dutch poem, and a couple of spoken word pieces i made along the way. The dutch poem was to get revenge. and the fairy tale was because i was in Odense, where hans christian andersen himself lived. and the spoken word pieces because i grew tired of poems and i liked this style better.

Afterwards they were saying that i was the high light of the night. The Dutch Spoken Word Artist. My first performance in Denmark, and it was very good, i think i made a couple of fans.... and friends.

It is strange that you can talk with a stranger as if you have known each other for quite some while, just connect with a person as if it was destined to meet each other. it made me feel delighted. i became, myself, without the spoken word artist inside me, with that red headed girl, i wanted to share the night, but i was to afraid of reacting to my feelings. it was a flash of lighting, that lightend me up inside and made me realised that i can make a person feel good , without my poems, just be the one , who is feeling what other people are feeling , and just speaking about problems, as if i can make them go away.

I had a very good time, i lived these days in a smal paradise here in Odense, sleeping in the garden of Raka, long lost friends of my parents, finding myself, finding another way to make me feel free.
 This is a paradise of people who are living the Rastafara life, and tomorrow i will leave to Copenhagen. But today , we are celebrating Christina's birthday, and there are cakes everywhere.

I got a small recording, from my performance, and i will upload it on youtube

Odense

The father had a toolshed. One of the items he created in this toolshed were knifes. He melted their blades and made them handles out of different trees. He loved to show me around and I  fascinated myself over the times he must have spent there. As I learned more and more about the tales of strangers I felt not only privileged to be listening to their tales but I gained some insight in the generosity of these worlds.
Out of nowhere I could find adventures where different values and ideas were established. Another day filled with something new. The amount of myriad knowledge ways scattered around these diverse adventurous paths of interest were humongous. And as an explorer of choices I often lost myself in the endless possibilities that could occur and who would never happen. A choice is always made in the end and then another stream of endless possibilities flow themselves in my brain and so go I forth. ‘A friend of wisdom’ is what a friend of mine called this affliction. Also known as a philosopher. But I just wanted to enjoy without giving names to the things I did.
When I ate breakfast, the light came through the windows and it illuminated the house and the faces of everyone in it. That is when I realized that I came to a house of Hobbits.
They lived far away, in between the lands of men and I was a guest to write about their hospitality and friendliness. A story was written and as I gave it to them on a piece of paper they smiled and hugged me like family. Adventures hides in plain sight. And as we glide in them we lose touch of fear and unhappiness. It is as if we entertain ourselves with the presence of splendor. And for how long can we enjoy it before we have to slip back into states of distress? Be someone again? Maybe, but maybe we might glide for as long as we choose…..

I expected that I would leave on foot that day but they had a surprise.
“We are going to take you to the train station.”
It was a simple offer and a welcoming surprise but it surprised me. Emotions began to rise. And sadness fell over me once again. Damn it! I could not go through a single day without the rising of strange feelings. The offer was met with a hostility in me: A reaction spun from old wounds of abandonment. Distress wanted to know why they would offer such a thing. Have they not done enough for this traveler? But It was I who did not do enough; A burden passed down from childhood. I always felt privileged to receive attention. Why should anyone give me attention? That was what a burden could do if it was locked in your heart for a while. It could spin stories. And with the passing of time you begin to believe them. You begin to identify with them. But I was not afraid to fight against the shame that held this burden in place.  
 I entered the car of the family with a burst of bravery and tried not to think about myself while they drove me to the train station. My mind thought of every single scenario that could happen if we arrived at the train station. It was my tendency to be in control of my own possibilities. I didn’t like scenario’s where people cared for my wellbeing. I found that I created many expectations if I stepped into these kind of happenings. Probably trying to protect the little child inside who got hurt to often.
When we had arrived the woman got out and gave me 200 crones. “Here, than you have money to go to Odense.”
I was relieved when felt gratitude. I wanted to thank her but I could not find the words. I was too busy trying to talk with my mind about the implications of what she did. I sure was a boy who had a lot of thoughts.
Grateful and at ease once again I stepped into the train and forgot that I was ever worried.
The hobbit family earned my unforgivable define love and I could only respect the time they had given me.


Odense was a town where my parents had friends. Long ago, my parents were together still and they roamed a little bit across Europe travelling with their children. Odense was one of the places in Europe where they stopped and got acquitted with some of its inhabitants. They spend a lot of time here just enjoying life. As a young boy I used to come here with my family to enjoy the freedom that these friends gave us. But as time moved on these relations faded from our lives. When my parents broke up that era had come to an end. They didn’t like to talk to each other afterwards and the past was something that remained a mystery to me. They never really talked about the time they had spent together. Years went by as I grew up and I came to a point where I needed to build my own path. I had no idea. The only thing I knew was that I somehow wanted to be free. I did not know how to establish this. I had only a vague wish to find peace. As life pasted by I listened to my surroundings to explore my path. I went to volunteer for a festival when my mother told me to. I danced on stage when my emotions could not hide their excitement anymore. I was jumping from experience to experience. Joy came over me when I surrendered to the expression of peace. For I felt at peace when I could do what I wanted to do. As school asked me to focus I could not ascertain to their wishes. Distraction was keeping me from fulfilling their dreams. I did not really know what I wanted to do. But then suddenly life gave me another experience and when I heard the words that I dreamed of all my life coming out of the mouth of the Psychiatrist I wanted to hug her. I wanted to be free. How could I have forgotten? I was so silly! And life expanded from there. Just like that, my whole future was painted in blue and I did not care a damn thing anymore. In the past there was a hitchhiker in our house because my mother picked him up that day. That memory came to live inside of me and I was going to be that hitchhiker. My parents supported the decision. My plans were made and a backpack and a sleeping bag were given to me. They appeared and wanted to keep me warm and safe. But freedom needed some rules otherwise there was no freedom. So I made up my mind that I would not pay for any of my nights while on the road. That was it. Oh! One small thing. I was going to be making poetry to everyone! I had high hoped of myself.
But then it was a question where should I go?
And an answer came quickly. The lost friends of my parents! When I grew up I just wanted to be free. Nothing else. But I could not really do that because I was a human and not a ghost who could go without food and water. I had all these needs tying me to a place and time. These feelings and emotions who wanted to be expressed. This young kid who wanted to be seen. And these years of history wherein I never really got the wish of a perfect family who speaks about love all day long. If I were to be free, I better solve these unfulfilled wishes. So that was why I decided to find the lost friends of my parents. To recreate my parents footsteps and make friends with their old friends. To reconcile with the past and forgive my wishes for being so romantic. What better way to reconcile with your past than to step into it and admit that you knew nothing about the reality of breakups? I wanted to find out who my parents where when they were still together. I was very lucky. Even though my parents broke up they had this wide range of strangers who knew the answers to the questions I was looking for. I just had to travel to them and ask whatever I wanted to ask.
I was going to take advantage of this opportunity and hopefully discover dreams that were left unseen.
So I walked around Odense waiting for my mom to give me the address of her lost friends. I tried to interact with my surroundings but I was shy and not able to gather enough courage to speak to anyone. Fortunately the universe gave me a break after hours of self-neglecting myself.
“Hello, can we ask you a couple of questions about how the people in Odense live?”
I looked up from the bench where I was sitting on and saw two persons standing next to me with their eyes full of hope.
“I don't live here sorry.”
By the look of their sad faces I felt a spark of my old self and said.
“But, I can make you a poem, just give me three words.”

Surprised they happily obliged and gave me three words. I was more than happy to begin writing. Inspiration flowed outwards upon the paper and it felt like I was on fire. After I had written the poem I told them about me. Introducing myself to people really took some skill. You don’t want to scare them off or make them feel too comfortable because you want them interested as well. So mystery had to go in there. But you had to be direct as well. Ha! This would be fun.
“ Let me introduce myself first. I am Cestmir Bergsma. I am from the Netherlands and I am a traveling storyteller who goes around without money in search of love and kindness. I am planning on publishing books about my discoveries and by making poetry for people I celebrate the connection that we have. You can also give me a donation.”
This was the version that took me five years to perfect. It shows a softness in the beginning because you connect yourself to a place and a title. That is cute. Then In the middle you have the master plan and In the end you have the end goal well hidden because the people will be still busy processing the title and place and master plan to be offended by your plea for money if they wanted to. But it is just enough to get the attention out there and no one can argue about your goal. After the introduction I would recite the poem. In this way, people would forget their last attempts of bargaining. Or sometimes if you do the money donation sentence afterwards they fall silent and they wait until you go away. But if you put the poem afterwards, then it is what they shall remember more vividly and that is really the end goal. But you have to eat as well.
 So as I had introduced myself I was about to recite the poem with eagerness and temptation. As the two people listened, their eyes came alive again. And smiles appeared. As I spoke the final sentence I felt myself washed by their happiness. I enjoyed it very much to surprise people with joy.
“Can we get your autograph!? One day you will be famous!”
I smiled at their compliments and gave them exactly what they wanted.


I strolled around Odense for a while longer and then noticed that It was almost dark.
It was time to find a place to sleep. Let’s ask strangers again! I went to different houses and knocked on their doors. My request of sleeping in their gardens was mostly met with a weird look and so they turned themselves away from me. On my third try a young fellow opened the door.
“Hello, can I sleep in your backyard.”
“Ooh, wait a minute, I must ask my dad.”
 A few seconds later he returned.
“Yes, you can, shall I open the gate?”
I was guided to the gate and it opened before me. A world of kindness lay behind.
The backyard was beautiful, full of flowers, and enough space to put up my tent. The boy who had opened left me alone and I went to work. There was a river flowing next to me and as I settled myself I felt humble towards the gratefulness of rushing veins. There was a weird power present that beseeched me in a secluded euphoric state. I was overwhelmed by the hospitality that lay behind a door. It made me joyful and calm.



I slept like an angel and when I woke up the mother of the family came to me when she saw that I was up and about.
“Hello young man. I am very happy to meet you. Yesterday I tried to come but you were already asleep. I work till late. Are you hungry? Do you need a shower? Please, come and refresh yourself.”
I followed her in the house.
“Give me your clothes and I wash them for you. And also, if you want to stay another night you are welcome. Then you can enjoy Odense without having to carry everything.”
 She washed my clothes and waved me good bye as I went into the town without my backpack and sleeping bag. I could not believe that just happened. Quick as a fox she was. She had me tied to her kindness before I could say anything. It struck me as odd that I had accepted this as just another adventure. Because the manner in which her generosity came to life was without a doubt. Merciful and complete.

 As the day passed I found myself sitting on the grass in the park for hours. Observing the people playing ball games while I wrote stuff down. I saw also three girls talking amongst themselves. A conversation with my mind began.
“Cestmir. You should go to these girls and make a poem for them.”
“No! that is impossible.”
“Come on…. You can do it. They are not so scary you know.”
Perhaps the fortune of having a house with a shower gave me a new found stubbornness. That is the only explanation I can think of. Anyway, I picked up hope and walked over to the three girls who were sitting there on the grass. My heart was racing and my mind paced back and forth waiting for some plan to help me approach them. But as I walked further, they started to notice me. Slowly their conversation faded as they wondered why I approached them. My heart wanted to express. So, I expressed.
"Do you like poems?"
“Yes.”
 "Do you like experiences you always remember for the rest of your live?"
“Yes.”
"then I’m your man."
they looked at each other and agreed.
I sat down and asked them for words.
“You can give me three words. Each one. And I can make you a poem.”


The three girls were excited about the poem so with no further delay I wrote and performed it.
I loved sharing my words and diving in the moment. I could see that the girls liked it too. They were smiling and filled with silence. When I was finished they gave me a donation and a surprise.
“In a couple of days we have a poetry reading ourselves and we would like to invite you.”
“That sounds amazing. Yes. I will be there.”
It was my very first time talking to a group of beautiful girls. I thought I handled that quite well. Maybe next time, if I want to spend the day with them, then I would not ask them for a donation. After the poem I felt that I needed to leave. I had made of them my customers and that made me uneasy to interact with them some more. I could not yet balance attraction and reality. Damn! It was hard to talk to girls.
After exchanging our contacts I stood up and wished them the best.
I returned to the family who took me in. The family was like a warm bath of hospitality. I could not dismiss the trail of growing up that they put me in. Receiving hospitality must be met with a decent amount of growing up. At least the notion that you learned something while under their roof. As I was invited to seat myself in the big dining hall and eat along I was almost stupefied of the gentleness with which they eased my strains. All the distress of living was met with a loyalty towards the loveliness that was proclaimed. and I ate with them. It was a luxurious home and my belly was quite happy that I was there. The mother and father had a daughter and a son. A few years back some other travelers had knocked on their door, asking if they could spend the night. This was why they knew exactly how to host me and give me the necessary ingredients to go further. With eagerness I attempted to grasp an idea. I wanted to give them the loveliness that I felt. And it came to me! My escapade with the three girls inspired me and I began to make each member of the family a poem. I was thrilled that they seemed to enjoy it very much. It was a blessing to be able to give back what I received. I dare say that it is a responsibility to equal the amount of attention amongst family. A family would not worry about such fuss but it is exactly therefore that a family would favor such active communal chances of bonding. To share an equal burden of taking care of each other. What you have is easily mistreated as something common and can turn into animosity quickly so I was grateful that this family gave me the urge to return the willingness of joy. I had granted myself the arrogance to exclude myself from this play of Humanity. But it was my fear of not being accepted as who I was that made me dance along the sidelines.

My blog post around that time:
I came across several houses with big gardens but each and every one said no. Until I knocked at a door where a Young man was opening the door. He said that, after consulting with his dad, it was no problem.
and this was a nice garden by the river bend but I slept early and I did not meet the parents of the boy.

After a good night sleep, the mother came to me when I was already breaking down my tent.

I could sleep another night there.

and you could not believe how gentle they were, it was like a restaurant. My clothes got washed, I could take a shower, I could have breakfast. I could have gotten any thing my heart
desired.


A family had given me shelter, love , acceptation and above all else a grown version of who I was. A streak of experiences born out of bravery and new found awareness. This journey told of a blank future and I was going to try to enjoy the outcome of its painting. It was time to say goodbye. My life wanted to move and find so let’s entertain the movement that it gifted us with.
My mom had given me the address of her lost friends so there I went. I was kind of exited: I was five when I was last seen in their midst. The friends lived in a communal area with their own dirt roads and gardens. On the side of a big street there was a little gravel path surrounded by bushes that went sliding of somewhere. A little supermarket was here, marking the end of civilization. From now on, little blocks of green and gravel guided me to self-build houses. Each had their own garden and natural fences around it.
“Hello. I am looking for Raka and Christina.”
There was a customer in the supermarket and he smiled as I asked him.
“Yeah. I know them. Follow me. I am going back now.”
I could not silence the expectations that came when I walked after him. It disrupted my confidence a bit. I had no clear idea how my parents lost friends would treat me and especially how I needed to treat them. I didn’t really remember anything about them and would they know that? Or would they expect me to.
As I approached the gardens I watched with fascination how my guide was greeted by all the people we came across and we were met with smiles that did not elude the friendship that resided here. “Christina! I brought you a visitor.”
It was a woman, dressed in silk garments and white cotton pants.
Her hair was braided and her face told of many challenging years. A wise grandma looked at me and I could sense wisdom that knew how to cover the elegant excuses of life. As peace gathered around her I saw that she was Christina. I remembered her from photo’s.
“Cestmir! Welcome. We are most happy to receive you. You have grown a lot. I am pleased to see you. Come and feel at home.””
A queen like energy she had around her. I could feel that I wanted to be strong but I was not yet ready to defend my honour. So I let my soft side take over and I was left feeling overwhelmed before her presence. I gave her a hug and stepped back.
“Yes. Hey, Christina. I am happy to be here. Thank you for the invitation.”
And so my story began. The story wherein I met the lost friends and gained a little bit more insight on the past. My awkwardness rose when I admitted to myself that I did not really know what I was doing here. I had just followed a dream and suddenly I arrived at the place where my dream was alive and talkative. Reality did not seem to have prepared me to stumble into an ocean of peace and communication. Christina looked like the queen that ruled the struggles of life. And I had too many struggles to count. Therefore I didn’t really want to embarrass myself by explaining that I wanted to get to know them and therefore acknowledging that I did not know them. In short. I didn’t really talk to anyone or showed interest in getting to know the community. My mind was preoccupied with the suspense of being there. Everybody knew my parents. They were famous people around here. And I was therefore a famous child. I didn’t want to ruin the image they had of me. Of course, later I realized that it was just a fear and an excuse that held me back from talking and getting to know the people. But children tend to be preoccupied with themselves and their own problems. I want to blame myself but I cannot really. Christina led me to the house of Raka.
I was going to spend my time in this oasis of peace in his garden. Raka was a very gentle and laid back man. He had dreads as well and he used to be great friends with my parents. So I found myself a guest of a man who could give me rest of the turmoil inside of me by being friends. He was working on a marble statue of a woman and was quite frankly very talented.
I set up my tent and tried to arrange my wishes. I wanted to make poetry in the town. I wanted to get to know Raka and Christina and I wanted to learn more about the love that my parents had shared. My dad had been a freedom fighter of rock and roll and my mom was remembered as a strong willful woman. I was finally on the grounds where my parents lived once while they were still in love.
I don’t know what I expected but it had something to do with rainbows and fairy dust. To enter the lands where my parents were once in love and that it may expel unanswered questions and give me the answers that I need to move on from the past. This had to be the biggest wish I had around that time. To be free from any reluctant belief that my parents were once in love. To be once again a child in the midst of parental love. My wish to have a mom and dad who never separated, who kiss and make love and share a togetherness that is heard in stories of lovely mischief. Conclusion: I wanted a fairytale that could never be. But I searched for it. Oh. I did my best to find that loop of time where I could erase the separation of my parents and it never took place. Oh. How I searched for it and got lost in the process.

I tried to find peace in the gardens of lost friends.
“Cestmir! Your tent can stay in my garden, we will have a nice time.”
 Raka invited me in his home and his comfortable life style was likeable and without questions. From the start, I was a part of his home and I could do whatever I wanted. I think he had a lot of respect for my parents and he was easy on me because of it. The days were adventures. As I strolled through these sand lanes and self-made houses I forgot the vanity of the working class outside these gardens. It was like a park inside a city where the stress of living amongst granite and cold stones was faded in a lost memory. I could not yet open up to the moments of timeless endeavor where I could rest my sorrows and enjoy but I did what I could in order to join hands with this timeless space. I was trying to forget that I was on a quest and the people here tried to indulge me in any curiosity I might have. Most of the time I spend with Raka. He taught me that easiness was a gift of life. “Cestmir. You can either stress or calm yourself down. You have these two options. Which one do you choose? Let the world hear your answer.”

I asked the world if he wanted to go easy on me but he didn’t listen. Or I didn’t choose. The past still haunted me. Every day I went through a period of denial and self-loathing. Then I would drink tea with Raka and bless myself with peace. And then in the evening I tried to connect and listen to stories. Every day was a ritual of growing up. Slowly I felt that the gardens taught me that the past was nothing more than a sequences of choices. Made by those who went before me. My desire to blame my parent for breaking up came to a rest as I ventured forward in life. As a young boy I missed the union of parenthood. I missed having respect for my parents. Because in my idea they broke one value that I held dear and that was love. The forgiveness of love. Raka and the others taught me that maybe my parents did the best they could. That they just followed a sequence of choices that led them to believe they were on a good and prosperous path. I could hardly blame them for not seeing what the best future would be. I could hardly blame them to be washed away in the accumulated knowledge that life presents. It is hard to figure out where you want to belief in and what values you go for.  There were so many angles that created so many different outcomes. But was there not a way to go forward in life while keeping love intact? Change should not come as a surprise and you should not destroy the beauty of what you have established by blaming circumstances. Every time I went to my mother with news about my father she would value the news negatively based on some pain that my father left her with. And my father would not ever come to spend time with us because he did not believe that was important. Happenings of a personality that did not want to change drastically. An identity is shaped from the simplification of our mind. And it is rather easy and systematic if we prolong the identity that occurred. Then we don’t have to change all the time. Than we can identify ourselves by naming our actions, putting it into a form and use the outcome to say: That is who we are! But change is coming and it will neglect all this fuss. It does not bother itself with well-educated self-development so much. It is the chaos of living. It is like a video game. We try to die as best as possible. Heroic scoundrels are constantly on the verge of rescuing Maidens of love. Yin en Yang energy balances inside our body. Female and male spirits speak the language wherein we convert knowledge into wise consequences. My parents consequence was a kid who wanted to die and die again. To sustain the art of living in a constant survival nomadic life who brought me to the far reaches of my mind. To exploit the art of living by challenging my instincts.  Here I was. A kid who just wanted to trust, in the joy that human instincts were capable of.
The days with Raka went by and we gathered stories. About each other and our past. Every Friday he organized a chess evening with some friends and I was looking forward to it. Chess was a game that I started to love from an early age. It told me many things. It taught me to self-reflect in a most elegant way. Stretching my mind to see the patterns arise. I loved to watch how moves influenced each other. To see the response of a mistake and how you could mend it afterwards by tying the strains of insecurity to a peaceful mastery of movement. I began to understand that reality was something made. Past stories lingered in my mind vaguely as if I held on to them.  But I could also let them go. Give them the expression that they want of me. Unchaining the capabilities that may have no idea what they want or where they come from but at least the stories that my mind made up could be expressed. I was too tired to maintain these stories in my mind waiting for perfectness to show me the way.
Every day was a blur of emotions who tried to teach me something. And in the midst of this whirlwind I found myself occupied with this strange feeling of loneliness.

I was excited again when I recalled that I had an appointment with three girls. On the day of the poetry reading I said goodbye to Raka as I happily made my way to the town. All confusion at once stopped when I left the gardens. Strange, as the world guided me to a blank future I had no fear. I welcomed the possibilities that were endless. There was no security anymore. No responsibility to take care of anyone but myself. No one looking out for me or caring for me. I loved to be forgotten in the womb of the world. There was always a nagging feeling disturbing my senses when I was around people. The gardens of lost friends was not a place where I could find answers to my restless nature. But I would return there to await the birthday of Christina and then free myself once again from the feeling of being a part of something. As I walked the streets I came across two persons who greeted me happily. It took me a while to remember them. They were now with a huge group.  ‘Do you remember us? You wrote us a poem just a few days ago!’
It were the guys who asked me if I lived here. They were very excited to see me again.
‘We shared your poem with every one of our friends! They loved it. Could we get a picture this time? You will be famous!” 
It was curious how these people seemed to be extremely fond of me. It was almost adorable to see. It reminded me of a child who had made a grand discovery and now he wants to share it with the world. A child experiments never stopped. They could always find something new. Their joy was contagious. And as they left me I felt warm inside. It was glorious to be able to change so effortlessly into states of being. Any insecurities that I might have had were melted in this warmth. Curiosity to explore peaked my attention. Bravery endeavored itself to fill my veins. After a moment of hesitation I prolonged my stride. With their warmth still inside. It was fascinating to feel how they could give me warmth and comfort by being joyous as a child. Their happiness was infectious. They accomplished what hours of mediation could not. I forgot my strive to be someone and I became. I felt one with all the personalities inside of me. And just by interacting with a child. It was a glorious day. If only we could love our insecurities and mistakes the same way. I made my way to the poetry reading and when I entered the little café where it was held I noticed the three girls who had invited me.
“Cestmir. It is so good to see you. Welcome.”
Attraction seemed to pass by in the alley of experience. Attraction was a feeling that I had wanted to dodge in life. But the more I followed the path of freedom, the more I got in contact with this feeling. One of the girls especially. She was all my dreams packed into a snow-covered landscape of rainbows. My chest wanted to express, inflame and dissect the fairytales that strolled in her eyes.
“Are you ready?”
I could not stand to look at her.
“Yes. I am looking forward to it.”
There were many people and I felt alive with new sensations of love. The café was small and the people came closer to each other to sit on the ground and wait for the first poet to recite.
The girl I fancied did a number of poems herself and even though they were in Danish I still loved the way she spoke. I loved to be in the vicinity of poets again. Back in the Netherlands I had introduced myself to the world of poets there and I began to miss it. It was a different world. A reality wherein the fragrance of words embellished everything around you. It was like walking in a constant poem. I really liked the poetic world. I could weave my insecurities into a constant beautified memory. Grasping it and holding it in place by mere strength of mind. I could even categorize my fears and act as if they were humans like us, with feelings and struggles. A whole array of personalities within personalities. It was a great way to hide the tears of a shattered child.
“Next up is Cestmir! This is a poet from the Netherlands who came to us in the park to write us a poem. We invited him to come over and share what he has to share and he gladly accepted.”
It was my turn.
“hello Everyone. I am indeed from The Netherlands but I left my country to travel. I was more than happy to accept the offer to recite here. Back in The Netherlands I competed in a competition with one of my short stories and I won third place of my country. This was my first step into the poetic world and later I started to do Poetry slams. Well, without delay I wanted to get started. First I will do a spoken word poem that I made just a few days ago.”
And so I went.
It was my first performance in international waters and I loved it. From time to time I would look slightly to the girl I fancied and it gave me acknowledgment to continue my parade of words. Many other faces could be seen showing signs of interest. Several poems and some stories of the previous days passed the revenue. Captivating feelings gripped me and I tried to translate them into words. On stage I felt a king. I fell in love with the power that resided in this vacuum of time when people stopped their behaviors and listened. All eyes were on me and I adored every single consequence that it brought along. It was the feeling of morphing myself into a timeless mirror of reflection. Every word, every detail, every pause was a clear statement of shape. If I used to many words, then I would pause. If a silence arises which was unknown I would play with it and dance straight through the fog. To captivate myself in a constant desire to express. Silence was a mystery to me. Expression was an act of surrender. Why do people want to captivate themselves? What is the goal of every thought?  I wanted to unravel the secrets of the dark. The unknown layers of movement that lurks behind every impulse. Why did I suddenly decide when I was 10 to confront a girl and tell her a story that I did not had prepared? How could my mind make up these stories that came out of nowhere but suddenly they were being spoken and becoming real. The need for expression is a driven subconscious guide that leads us. A thought that springs from muscle memory exceeds our own knowledge and tells us where we need to go. If we just have the balls to follow, then there is no more need to belief in boundaries or separation because we would easily belief that everything is going to be alright. When I was 10 the girl said to our teacher that I told her a story. The teacher therefore build me a stage and told me to perform. She wanted to listen. As I walked on that stage I felt that I came home. I felt the possibilities open and the stage waiting for me. There was no one anymore who could disrupt me for talking too slow. Me and my stutter could finally, for the first time, speak up and tell the world what was on our minds. We fell in love with the power of being on stage. Representing our own capabilities and shushing the whole world to listen to us. I was mesmerized by the feeling of a quiet room who listened to a very young boy.



“You have a power to ensnare every one of us and make us listen to you and at the same time your childness is keeping it fresh’
 “You are so positive, I love you for being so positive, you are the highlight of the night.”

The audience clearly loved my presence and I was humbled by their compliments.
It was the girl that I fancied that came over when we were standing outside of the café. I struggled to comprehend her attention towards me. I didn’t know what she wanted. Damn! Why did people always say that you could just be yourself if you wanted to talk to a girl.
There she is! Let’s listen.
“The poem you made in the park is still in my mind. It was wonderful that you came to us and gave us this poem.”
I felt a rush of bewilderment seizing my veins. Her green eyes were rested calmly in a gaze that pierced my heart and I was struck with a feeling of beauty. Naturally I responded as a little blind boy and I began to think too many things. I stuttered and stumbled and words went flying without a clear reason behind them. She shared her emotions so openly with me but I felt not privileged enough to receive them. I could feel that I helped her embrace herself a little bit more but I was still a young boy who believed that he was not good enough for attraction so there was no way I could flirt with her. But there was a beginning. Even though my confusion about her interest in me, I began to respond to her and actually felt my nervousness fade away and I could discover topics with her and speak lively.

I felt too much anxiety for who I was but there was a growth and that was a good sign.

my blog post around  that time:
It is strange that you can talk with a stranger as if you have known each other for quite some time, just connect with a person as if you were destined to meet each other. It made me feel delighted. I became, myself, without the spoken word artist inside me, with that red headed girl. I wanted to share the night, but I was too afraid of reacting to my feelings. It was a flash of lighting, that lightened me up inside and made me realise that I can make a person feel good without my poems, just be the one, who is feeling what other people are feeling , and just speaking about problems, as if I can make them go away.


After the poetry evening I went back to Raka and played chess with his friends. They had brought several chess boards and we sat for hours and hours in the house moving pieces. Chess was a game of concentrated perfectness.
‘Are you ready?’
‘Yes. Bring it on.’
I indulged myself once again in the art of thinking ahead. That is chess. Movements are effortless and wide. You consume the board as a whole and you dominate the field of rationality. You bend like a snake only to counterattack fiercely as an arrow straight ahead. The goal is not only to trap the king but do it in such a way that you opponent is left surprised and defeated by the force with which you put behind your moves. A force invisible for the weak and unsteady. A force only to be revealed by the masters of rationality. So, It was a great gift for the dreamers like me. It could teach me to shape my dreams into a foundation of constructed elegance. To not jump ahead but realize what my options were and benefit from the limitations that I surrounded myself with.
“Cestmir, what are you doing!?’
‘What!!?’
‘if you would have sacrificed your queen you would have won.’
Limitations are straining us to adapt to the game. To keep your eye on the target and don’t mess with integrity. It was wonderful to play chess.


Cristina’s birthday was upon us in the weekend. It was the last day of celebration for me in the garden. I had to change my scenery to dive in new adventures but first I mingled one last time with the friends that I made. Cristina had made 30 cakes, all with much color and deliciousness. Raka was playing guitar and I had created a poem for Christina. In that poem I tried to explain every thought that I did not express before. It was difficult to maintain integrity for me. I wanted to dance around with fairytales and hide myself in them every chance I got. And therefore I did not know how to speak to these fairytales yet; How much it meant for me to be in that garden. But also how much confrontation and doubt I faced by being there. I granted myself no space to talk about my doubts and fears in a conversation. Therefore I made a poem about them. I never was the biggest fan in explaining myself. That’s why I loved to write poetry. Because I could give my doubts and fears a poetic touch which people took for granted. They would never have the chance to undermine me with their questions and I would have explained my feelings. Poetry was a protection for me. To conceal myself in the grand gesture of words so that life was a stage and I was the performer. And there were not so many people who asked questions about a theater play. This is how I moved myself in the shadows and became a young boy who protected himself from the love of attraction. I guess this young boy needed to protect himself, to not loose himself in time that was not his. For there where many people communicate, many misunderstandings take place and I was not really ready to take the time to digest all the different perceptions and perspectives out there. First, I needed to find my own.
“I came here to found out who my parents were. They never told me stories or showed me the love that created me. So, by coming here I hoped to see what I longed for; I hoped to see past figures of my parents life who could explain to me who my parents were. I could not connect happily with you all because I dreamed about this moment too much. This made me lose contact with the world as it was given to me. But nonetheless I can say that I enjoyed every second while I was a guest here and I hope I will return when I know who I am and where I came from, to enjoy without a quest inside of me.”

I grew up wanting to feel pain. I could simply not neglect the suffering which people went through. And I projected their fear upon myself. Fear to let go of negativity. Fear to live because why should I feel happy when some other people seemed to be afraid of death. In a sense I took existence on my shoulders with all its perilous sensations. The world was wide, and a varied field of hopes and fears, of sensations and excitements, awaited those who had courage to go forth into its expanse, to seek knowledge of life amidst it's dangers. For me, it was the energy of pain that made me curious. The spiritual side of suffering; The all mighty search for hell. This curiosity was founded when I had enough one day, of living. I looked around and found boredom where there had to be boldness. I decided that I lived amongst people who were satisfied to watch Tv and linger on living, trapped in a world where their belief had shaped a consistency and ‘things were the way they were.’ I looked around and decided that this was not my life. My life consisted of dancing emotions who whirled my heart into ups and downs and straight through the fog. A constant discovery of action and reaction and a world of fragile heartbeats who wanted to reap the knowledge which was entangled in a breeze of time. To teach the facets of a multidimensional personality how to consume the wisdom of death and shape it into paradise. For that was what I was certain of; we already lived in paradise, I just had to found out how to free myself from ignorance first.