The Death of Lone Wolf - Part Two

The Bawling child

Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten


'Heart full of youth'
Evi captures the spirit of Bern, 1998.

26/10/98 - Mon - Bern (Switzerland) - But whatever, I need to watch carefully my movements, because (if I'm to reach Antwerp in good order) I must avoid letting my funds run too low. I must seek to earn money to cover staying this extra day before I leave. My plan is to hitch to Basle and take a train from there. So I need daytime to make the move. I need (also) to pick up things left at Eliot's place....but American John said he was working with Eliot on a temporary job!?!
Should I go for a farewell thing at the Reithalle tonight? Questions!?!
I'm too disorganised for answers. Should I evacuate Kehrsatz and hope I can overnight at the WG, or Ana's...or wherever?
I have 162sfr. I need to top this up to afford the day. Questions!?!
Quite apart from emotional questions presented by Sarah....and that apart from inner questions about Evi, Anada, Tanya, Chantel etc....
Nothing seems clear! Except that I will be leaving.
27/10/98 - Tues - I guess a lot of stuff happened between now and those tense moments of yesterday. One of them is that I am on the night train - or, at least, the Bern to Basle section. I'll need to change at Basle. In the end, it seemed such a bothersome thing hitching to Basle.
The idea seemed good. Play the street for the Bern-Basle money. The idea seemed good. Financially, the idea wasn't good...but who knows? The end result may have been the same if I had taken the hitch option.
Where the idea WAS good was emotionally, because it is hard to remember any more fulfilling a testimony of my self-value than the build up to this departure.
Much of what has been gained may fall way, but the bedrock gains can be built upon.
After the questions (!?!) rolling through my mind yesterday, I ran through my latest song while Ana listened unobtrusively in a corner of the room. I played the quiet version. My voice, inspired by the awareness of Ana listening, was behaving well.
I was training myself to memorise the words...and this meant I had to take in their message and import. I got to the part of the song that reads:
The melancholic shift of the melody and chorus added its weight to the basic message building up....and my mind, heavily confused by the Sarah/Evi story, lost strength in a wall somewhere.
I checked the a lump appeared in my throat. I tried again...
STILL THERE SEEMS TO COME A DAY.....getting through it, but...
WHEN ALL WE HAVE IS FALLING APART......and the sentence was never completed in any my throat tightened, losing any hope of control. I stopped playing...and like the suddenness of vomiting, something inside me broke...and my eyes watered...and I loudly bawled, having no control of myself in any way or form.
At some point, most people completely clear away this impulsive bawling that is a natural outlet for a baby or toddler. People cry...but there are few times they lose themselves so much they bawl.
My head bent down to my arms on the table...and I had no control any more of my emotions. The tears didn't trickle....they flooded! Ana came to me and (like a child) I clung to her as she stroked and eased. There was nothing she could do to stop the toddler bawling - there was nothing I could do. My soul was distressed by its love for other souls.....that it had to leave them.....because it couldn't stay.....because other souls waited elsewhere....and my soul could not do everything, or be everywhere...and yet it wanted to....
My soul didn't want to be an ominous cloud rolling into the sun. It wanted to be "sun shining into their heart".
Eventually, Jarru emerged from the shower. He sat on the other side of me, placing his arm around my shoulder. The added empathy of Ana and Jarru, caressing my back and sending easing energies, was a potent thing....but still, the toddler remained a good deal longer and (at periods) I needed tissue for my nose.
All normal bodily control reflexes were stunted by the emotional flood. I sat abjectly with both my hands slumped onto my knees, clutching tightly on a piece of tissue...while my eyes watered unconstricted.
Then there came the emerging calm, as the comforting attention of Jarru and Ana continued to re-assure the clinging child. The child had fallen into shock - a shock that lingered (on inner and outer levels) for most of the remaining day and evening.
Ana sought to eke out the source of my depression, but really...there was so much behind it....and the reason I gave was Rachel (my daughter), and that was true, because it is a floodbarrier usually held firmly closed.
But my confusion about Sarah (and her possible Labyrinthal links to Rachel) had somehow forced the floodbarrier open. It seems to be important that I am sun, not cloud, for Sarah - and yet it seems so impossible to align the border.
I couldn't explain this, or the Labyrinth, to Ana. It would be pointless trying in the period and space available. Nor could I present myself as clever.
Ana invited me for dinner and explained ( with a sketch map, address and telephone number) where she lived. She even explained the 20 bus.
I knew this bus intimately...and I had been to Ana's. I wasn't entirely sure of the street name and number. But I didn't say any of this....
I watched her sketch the map..and wished it would take longer to sketch. I nodded stupidly to any information she supplied. My speech was slow...and probably slurred. I was in shock that so much private grief had been publicly forced out.
My mind was no longer feeling clever....and was like a beaten force, seeking a new compromise, alongside enforced respect, for the powerful army of the soul.
The soul was happy at its release, but contritious at its invasion of the territory of mind.
I was aware that Brian didn't belong to himself that day, because he had unveiled a part of his inner self that was usually vetted by the outer self...and heavily censored.
At Ana's, I could only be subdued...and my attempt to lighten up was met by the confused shock of the mind. My smiles were half smiles...and my eyes were (no doubt) tinged by the fall-out of the explosion. I could not be sure of myself, though it had probably helped a great deal that I had called around the WG to babble to Sarah and hug her....because she was smiling...and then concerned to comfort me.
I think Anada was right when she said Evi is scared very much by outbursts of emotion - within herself, and within others. But it can be hoped she will see the benefit of such a thing. To reveal your inner self allows others to glimpse the real you...and the empathy they will offer speaks much of their own inner sorrows.
They read their own story into you, and (like a song) it gives them empathy in turn.
After the dinner at Ana's, I left for the Reithalle. A further addition to the 'hug Brian' club was Sheena. But Philip accompanied me to the Reithalle, and his earthiness pulled me a little closer to earth also. He was pleased that his friendship with Nina was cordial. He seemed to take on my advice that he should greet her with a hug...and make it just a normal friendly gesture between them. That way, he can have the company of a female he loves, without the pressure of building, or having, a formal relationship..
Nina has a boyfriend. Philip can have his girlfriends. But during and in between (if Philip handles it right) he will always have the hugs of Nina....and a friendship that could dramatically improve his outer ambience toward the female mind.
Nina/Brian is basically on a half acquaintance level. It seems to ride parallel courses that occasionally come within sight, then flow swiftly out of viewable range....although, a few days back, we talked a little and I played her my new song. She is remarkably attractive and quiet spoken. Unmistakenly feminine. I don't see her as likely to come my way with any significance - even to the point of close friendship. But, as she is at Kehrsatz...and as it's possible I may one day be there...anything is possible.
Sarah and Evi were waiting at the Reithalle when Philip and I arrived. I didn't learn until today (when Jarru called the WG) that Jarru and Ana HAD arrived for the 'farewell' drink party...but they arrived at about the same time that Sarah, Evi and I were leaving by the back exit. I had said I'd be there until eleven, but we left a few minutes before this because Sarah was feeling tired - as was Evi and I. The clocks going back means that body clocks are thrown out a little. Even Philip complained that he was getting up an hour early, thus feeling tired an hour earlier than he would do in the evening. Sarah feels the tiredness even more, because she has formal working hours. It was a shame we missed Jarru, but we would have had to go anyway...although Sarah had offered to leave the key somewhere I could pick it up to get in the WG.
But I wanted to sleep with Sarah...and the best time of this is the time before she actually sleeps, because then it is practical to wrap my body around the contours of her body...and feel the response. Obviously, this is an exciting thing for me, but there is an extra quality about Sarah's body that excites both my body AND soul...and in disparate ways.
The soul floats ecstatically with the father/daughter idea of the bond, much as it would with Char or Rachel. The sexual energy is channelled into the protective, paternal instinct...and the end result is a gleeful dancing of the soul.
Of course, the sexual energy IS there...and it is immense enough to leave me powerfully erect. With Sarah, or Char, that is no problem. They are not blood daughters. But how could I prevent the same arousal with my actual daughter? It is not a thing (on any mind level) that can be controlled - the arousal of manhood.
To channel the sexual energy into safe borders of fatherly physical expression of love is easily controlled....but not the actual independently minded manhood, which re-acts on its own accord.
Fathers must have massive problems dealing with this facet of themselves. Many probably have trouble dealing with the sexual energy. It probably leads to remoteness, or even confusedly falling into the realm of sexual abuse. But I think I am discovering the physical borderlines...and how to channel the sexual energy into expression of love, with complete control over its beneficial application.
Walking back from the Reithalle was a beautiful experience yesterday, as Sarah held my hand and Evi chose to walk the other side of me and hold my other hand. It represented, to me, a triumph of unity within my (spiritual) 'family'. The more I think on it, the more I see the parallel between Evi and Sarah...and my daughter and her mother. It is, of course, different...but there is something the same.
Evi and I spent most of the day (today) together, in the WG with Chriggu...and we headed out to pitch around four. After this, she found where I was pitching and we walked to the Munster. She wants to be in Morrocco in December if she can ...and, if it's possible, she will head for New York. It is not possible we may not see each other for months, or years...if she DOES reach New York and likes it well enough to stay. An important figure in my 'family' will drift into the sunset (if that's the case) and my Labyrinth will be affected.
But it may, equally, be that she will opt for Brian over all this...and Antwerp may lure her, as it has lured me. I think I mean a lot more to her than she will ever choose to let me know. If my hopes (regarding her) are to be fulfilled, then I would need to be correct in this.
But this offers me a new source of hope for re-uniting with Rachel....because, if I work out the keys to the parallel riddle, I may find Fate will kindly allow me to test the conclusions.
This could mean a possible December meeting with Paula and Rachel in England. Paula does what she sees as necessary, or desirable. In this, she becomes the ideal instrument of Fate. Therefore, if Paula decides to visit England in December (or if it is possible for her to do so), then she may move directly into my half plan forming for this.  


Labyrinth Busker Journal - Brian Robert Pearce