Commitment
I put myself down at the canal with a late afternoon coffee to take away the headache I've been carrying this day. It was a special occasion, I was about to dedicate my life to me. I walked around in excistential crisis and a feeling of loss for a long time. But in these last days it became clear to me where my direction lies. To dedicate my life to me, means to create. To me being an artist means being alive.
I have been an artist for a while, but lost my joy and inner connection, that I felt my God turned out to not exist and I could not commit anymore. With the knowledge about the pain and the fears, without a fast belief, I was about to consciously embark on my own path.
During this writing two bees, seemingly in battle, got to my last bit of coffee and both fell in. It took me a second to find something to get them out and one was already not moving anymore. The one still moving I shaked off, focusing on getting the other one out. It was too late. It just layed there, still.
The last sentence I wrote down, was to from now on remember myself that I should create because it's important to me and for that reason alone it's my heart and direction. And at that moment the bee who layed there still and dead, suddenly started breathing again. The little body raised from the death. I helped it getting clean and ready to be on it's way again.
The bee which I did not give too much attention, convinced it would survive, never moved from the place it landed. Covered with sand, the little body got hard and the bee died.