How fascinating is the solitary, free beauty of a flower. It has found its exclusiveness in self-actualization, even if it is all alone on a mountain top, it knows it is a breath on life journey that it has to join with its colour riot. Its guide is the sounds inside, making it unique. It experiences the joy of the moment in its being, comrades of the birds singing freely. It can stand side by side with another flower as well but never loses the rhythm of its heartbeat in the fullness of its being one and only.
What kind of love, passion can we speak of if we are afraid of having a “spiritual bleeding” as in Heinrich Böll’s “The Clown” Maybe we give others that dagger to others, if I feel that I have a heart is not it worth that pain, if I want to feel that I am a human being all the time, if I reject ordered love? If I want to throw away fear of the future that I don’t even know whether it will be? If I am ready to welcome the loneliness they will bring, if I prefer embracing my loneliness to suffocating hell of habits?