It's raining. It's pouring. Under the porch of my room at Pangandaran I have breakfast quietly, I cut the banana pancakes, I drink a little too sweet tea slowly. I’m waiting for a girl with a smile like the sun who will take an hour's drive on a motorbike under the rain just to stay with me. But who would say to me?
A dog made difficult have a good sleep last night. At dawn, just before the rain I came down into the street to look for this dog. I didn’t find it but I walked near the beach, I heard what I feel.
I’ve no job, no home, away from family, friends, from the world in which I grew up where I can move pretty well, who I know the rules and people. But I am free. And I have a living heart, beating strong, crying, suffering, wondering, rejoicing greatly. What can I change for this?
I honestly don’t know what will happen. Life has always different plans from mine, sometimes more beautiful of my capacity for imagination, sometimes not, mostly because my desires are still confused and contradictory, and I do too often frightened by what can happen.
In a false idea of freedom, loneliness can be a safety, a refuge where no one can really comes in and questions everything you are. I think in the freedom we have to accept to get dirty our hands with the imperfection of the other ones, to accept the risk of being hurt, to be deeply disappointed, to accept that life is different from our plans. Accepting the fact that life is not ours but is a gift, and that one day it will be asked back, and every new day is a gift we receive, without having done anything to deserve it. What do I complain? What opportunities does this new day that I was given give me? What can I do to love me and to love today?
Today, I know. Being myself, Being honest and true, expressing what I am and I feel, smiling and enjoying every detail of this new day. Painful, tender, disturbing or beautiful it is. Amen.