And I don’t want to know everything about you – I just need to want to know more. To like the way you feel when you aren’t touching me. You win me with your silent, steady gaze. Cover my heart with a look, and you leave me without resistance. I can’t wait for you to think it’s your idea – I have to act because it hurts if I don’t.

Don’t feel like you have to tell me all of your dreams – your fears. It’s enough that I want to know, we can take our time. Let me come to know you by watching, by living.

I think you have just boarded your plane; I wish the circumstances were different and that I was there with you.

I began writing this note Saturday late, with the intent of sending it to you once I knew you were safely on board, and ran no risk of reading it while you were at home with your family. And now I have tears in my eyes, thinking about what I have to say to you.

Please don’t judge me harshly for writing, instead of talking to you about it. It’s just that when I hear your voice – all resolve seems to fade.

I am so lucky to know you, and am grateful to you, and for you. First, for the way you made me feel during our time at school, which was watched, known, admired – apart from the others. Maybe everyone feels that when you look at them, I only know that I did and still do. And, as a woman, I was drawn and felt connected to you.

And then we meet again, five years later. I see you and I loose my breath. Literally. Nic, standing next to me, hears and comments.

Dinner – I almost sit next to Hilmar – change my mind and go to you. And we talk about it – for the first time. And the words open the floodgates, and I am somehow swept away.

Why, after so long? For me, I don’t know. But it is real, and it is powerful. And I am grateful – because now I know that a thing like this exists – and I was never really sure. Why after so long for you, I don’t know. Of course, there is that mid-life crisis?

And so we are here – at a point we will soon not be able to call an accident. And we have some choices. See each other. Not see each other. Not see each other – but talk. None make me happy. I’ve been trying to rationalize seeing you just one more time. One more time, and I could put this away. But I’m afraid it will draw me closer, and what will it cost me later to pull back? So the answer is we don’t see each other – but that feels like walking off a cliff. So we don’t see each other, but we talk. I think – perhaps as we learn more of each other, the mystery will wear off, and we will find a friendly place in each others lives. But, after 10 days of talking I find my feelings deepening in a most “un-friendly” way. And I find myself thinking of you, and wanting you, and craving you.

Where are you in all of this? Feeling at least some of the same things – I know that. But then there is that mid-life crisis – and I could be a symptom.

And so here is what you must know. I am afraid that I am not as brave as you. I am afraid that if we keep at this, I’ll become lost to it. I am afraid I already love you a little. It’s irrational, I know, but I know of no other words to describe what I feel.

But, as you remind me, you are a married man, with a family whom you love – as you should. As your friend, I should and do want that for you. I don’t want to grow to resent you for having a wife – or resent her for having more of you than I can. And, for the final truth, I don’t want to be hurt – and I know somehow that I will be. You won’t want to hurt me, but Erno, already I want more of you than I can have.

And so we are here, finally, at the point of this letter. I think we should use this time that you are away to take a break, from the writing and the talking. I think we should try to get this thing under control before we hurt ourselves or those more innocent.

Now I am crying and crying and crying to say this – because I will miss you – but even the tears don’t make me sorry to know you, and to feel what I feel. I told you I was grateful to you, and for you – and I am. But I want us to try to do this. And if it works, and you come back home feeling sane, don’t feel the need to explain. I will understand the silence.

Now, go read some Peter – it will distract. And look for a friend in the airport – you will probably find one. And know that that I would not have changed a thing – you are loved, and because of that, I am smiling through my tears –

And when we land on optimism, I find the dichotomy. Because optimism is the basis for my sympathy with the movement. Not with the privileged, self-proclaimed intelligencia that jumped on the bandwagon. But with the young and the not-so-young that can’t feel optimistic about their future. But want to, and have taken to the streets to ACT in pursuit of change, to create a better future for themselves, and as they believe, for the future of others. I sympathize. I admire the effort.

How can creativity happen if we are never alone with out thoughts? Does all the stimulaation, in the form of contant texting, e-mail, mobile news – all of it – does it net add to the creative process, or detract?

Autodidacticism – helped or hurt?

Here’s the new goal: for 3 months, follow my instincts. Act on them. See what happens.

And so, a reminder – the goal.

To enjoy every day as if…
To meet new people and experience new things…
To contribute…
To make a future that is better than my past…
To live comfortably…
To laugh, to love…
To love.

It’s Steve Jobs fault – well he and my Mom. Mom told me the story about Steve reflecting on the period after got was fired as being one of the most liberating -because he was released from the stress of trying to fit into a situation, and free to explore his passion. That is my goal – but to achieve it on my own impetus – not due to some external force…

Why not?