today everything is very different.
the prayer was essential:
yes, the usual chaos of false concepts,
dead ends,
mere clutter,
some strange nonsense,
but, in between, that desire to give.
strange oft-frustrated Desire,
Need,
to give everything.
to be the very gift.
My music is perhaps a manifestation of that desire,
frustrated because deeply inadequate,
made more so by my lack of faith (in it).
Love for another frustrated by lack of faith (in him and myself too).
unable to give myself into that community.
giving frustrated.
but in prayer this is no longer the case:
once I find the link established (from the other side)
(I am aware that I am unable to establish that link and can only ask for it)
the giving can be total - if bound by time -
and to give all is no sacrifice although it looks like one.
it is only relief and joy because it is all that is wanted.
it is a giving with no strings attached.
no purpose except itself.
and the ability to find that ability to give
is the greatest gift of all . . . .
surely this is where you are most present.
spirit of God.
I can only Give because you Gave to me.

my emails to ryan have been a useful focus.
thinking back through this year:
joy came with recognition of the enemy:
gihad.
once I knew where the fight lay
I could get on with it with a glad strong heart.
man is nothing if not a war-monger.
but the fight must be the right one.
the enemy must be the real one
when I lost sight of the enemy
I wandered disconsolate through the fog
purposeless and lost again . . . . . .

if we cannot locate the real enemy
we invent a pretend one.

then who is the real enemy?

only it isn't as simple as that . . . .
because the real enemy is the very urge to fight in the first place.
this is the enemy.
and so the gihad (noun) must be against the very urge to gihad (verb)

the real war must be against the pretend war against peace.

isnt this what freud meant by the death wish?
only he thought of this as a neurosis
when really, seen aright,
it's the very source of strength and life . . .
(onward christian soldier . . .)

I came to a place where I was able to say
over and over
I am yours and you are mine.
I was able to say it and understand it.

the question is:
what do I want this music to do?
where do I want it to take me?
can I just be led by it,
or do I have to lead it myself?

does it speak, or am I speaking it?

earlier I knew that the silence must come first
that the music can only ever accompany this silence
like a missing solo violin part:
far more beautiful and essential than any notes on the page.

and then I went and wrote a few chords
which seem to take me nowhere
and drag me down.

the wall?
could it be the wall?
the essential wall:
the wall that runs through my life
the wall that I still havent understood
and wonder if I ever shall.
although at least, now,
I can acknowledge it and even look at it
without quite so much dread

my words seem to crumble even as I say them.
thoughts jumble and crowd.
meaning disintegrates
leaving shadows and dust.
filling the air with doubt and despair.

but this will pass.
I do know this.

this morning was so different:
my words were your words.

yesterday:
having and being:

to be
I must give
what I have.
what I have you gave to me
and I must give it back
because nothing can be kept.
but oh it seems a tedious business indeed.

yesterday I thought:
the ark is empty;
the tomb is empty.

today it is all struggle and darkness