Losing the connection with our instincts, I now believe to be a consequence of the mindless habit. Has it become necessity, an even higher degree of habit?
I think it has. Awareness of our true nature has been forfeited or rather stolen, effaced, buried right down, under layers of nothing. And the nothing is thick and sticky. It’s colourful and even sweet to taste but still, nothing. Are we, myself and Martine, among the very few still thinly connecting our awareness to our instincts? Possibly. I say no more of that now. What might have been the force that made us do so? When did it start? What for? And what of this heavy, avoided word, “instincts”? I remember someone, sometime, someplace whispering a few words. I was the only other one hearing these words. I don’t think she said them again. “I felt this love to be incomplete from the beginning, the instinct of perennity was missing”. I felt that such words only a goddess can say, for she was beautiful and otherworldly in everything else. And she was right. She was connected to life itself. I was then compelled to reflect on those words, on her beauty, on her power. There was instinct, perennity, a goddess, and me, a mere mortal. And my condition lingered like the fog of tears over my eyes, an unforgiving fate. But beauty never left me. Beauty loved me still. And yes she loves me now. Me, the mortal, I can have that. Nothing can take away from me that which is truly mine. I discover I had a fundamental desire. Life! Then the question and the answer came, lightning and thunder. “Do I want to be immortal?” And I answered, I thundered in the silence of my heart, “Yes!”.