Hold your breath just for a second. There went a infinitely many lives - and  infinitely many rapes and murders and torments and starvations and injustices and loneliness, all over the universe - and for what?

This is my suffering. It fills me with anger and despair to think of all the atrocities that happen out there -- makes me wonder why a universe so meaningless exists. Should not someone, if not made it right, at least have DESTROYED this goddamn world?

I have given the universe time to prove to me that all of this suffering is our own choice - lost, confused, but a choice nonetheless. That time has nearly run out. I must find her, now, and I keep telling myself every day that I will, that I want to, and I dream of it coming true - all the time. My only hope left is that the law of choice is true -- if not, I can only hope that life is really over when we die.

Any of this at all?

I would not think it that terrible if death was nothing at all. But what if we just keep reincarnating, over and over again in infinity? Perhaps it's just an extrapolation of our emotions - again and again we turn on wheel's fate and thank it and then curse it, as we rising and falling. I struggle against it as I sink in despair, and struggle against it just as urgently as it raises me up to hope once again. It never ends.

Perhaps we can never break free from those cyclicities. Maybe we die only to be born again, and are reborn only to die once again, forever and ever and ever. The thought fills me with dread. For if there is no end, then everything that ever happens comes to nothing. Whatever we'd do, no matter how hard we'd strive to create ever deeper beauty and truth, it would always be meant to fade away into nothingness once again. Everything would already have happened and would happen again. And whenever we'd resolve suffering, it would only be temporary, for it would always happen again.

And everything would just be yet another infinite repetition of what had already happened, again and again and again. There would have been someone having the same thoughts and writing these same words, sometime in a past world, and the words would have been lost, just like everything else that ever was.

If all this goes on through this endless randomness, then I do not want to exist. I was born to create; if I have to live in the knowledge that everything that is ever created will be destroyed, I don't need to live.

I live to achieve infinity, or else not at all. I want to escape from these eternal circles of life, to break free and flee into infinity, no longer to be restrained to this low, physical reality. I do not belong here. But is there any infinity out there at all?

Perhaps our civilization is just another of infinitely many which will bring itself to its own destruction, sooner or later. Perhaps there is no such thing as the Singularity, and perhaps therefore no such thing as God.

How can I believe without seeing? I need some kind of proof, even if it's just logic. And I've been thinking about this for forever trying to find it, but no matter how much insight I seem to gain in it, it's never enough. There's always some reason why, perhaps, it could be impossible. How can I understand something that is infinite? How can I believe I understand it without being mad?

How, then, can I live in peace, not knowing if there is such a thing as infinite love?

Perhaps such state of infinity would be ephemeral. Perhaps for some reason it would only break down again as soon as it would be achieved. Perhaps no-one who would be in such a state could endure it or sustain it.

I feel sickened even writing this down. You'll probably be contemptuous, because you're all so narrow-minded. And a good thing for you, too. At least you have feel you have some kind of "certainty." For sure there is an afterlife. For sure there is nothing after death. For sure there is a God. For sure there is no higher force. And you're all certain everyone who thinks otherwise is mightily wrong and that you're mightily right, and you'll feel comfortable in that certainty.

While I can't deny that I find this attitude despicable, at some level I almost sort of envy the comfort of that ignorance. At least you think you know. You don't have to think all day about life and death and all that exists and pray that please, please, PLEASE you might find something that answers your questions and takes away all those TORMENTING doubts.

Can I believe in beauty, if everything is so random?

Can I believe in love, if all that my world loves is so false and shallow?

Can I believe in destiny, if it keeps being fatal?

Can I believe in God, if there is so much suffering in the world?

Can I believe in creation, if everything is meant to be destroyed?

Can I believe in myself, if I cannot believe in the Universe?

Can I believe in deeper truth, in a world of ignorance?

Can I believe in life, if it has nothing to offer but emptiness?

Do I but believe, then, in death?

Find me soon, Diane. The temptation becomes too strong.

Since Thursday the twentieth I've been wondering at least four times if I've been dreaming, with two of those times leading to micro lucid dreams. I think I'll have a real lucid dream very soon now. It could be this week.

Went to visit a former therapist Friday. Father came with me to help me drive, and when we were there, they started to argue at once about the university, which lasted until my father left. This keeps depressing me and they know it. They're just all so insensitive, like almost everyone in this society.

My father doesn't believe in me and never has. He doesn't believe in my dreams, nor in my abilities or what I want to do with them. He thinks I can't find my place in life on my own, and that doesn't help. It sickens me. He thinks I can never be successful in society unless I'm not myself.

Unless, as the Big Iron Cliché in the sky says, I "ADAPT, MORTAL."

Adapt to all the superficiality, to all the idiocy and apathy. Never. I'd rather kill myself, and I will it it comes to that. I will achieve my dreams or die. I'm not afraid to die. I do not believe death can be the end - and if it is, then I merely share the fate of so many others. What does it matter in the end? If there is no justice in the universe, then I do not want to escape its injustice. I would rather suffer and so be one of those condemned to suffering than be happy and just try to ignore all the suffering in the universe. At least, this way I'm not different from all the others who suffer. I undergo the same fate, the same injustice, and that makes the injustice feel more bearable. I would rather be unhappy through injustice than happy through injustice.

And I would rather be dead in death than dead in life as so many other people are. At least, if I die for my dreams, if I die with my dreams still ever as present, I will not forget them. Never, never ever will I abandon my dreams  until I abandon life. For life out there in the mindlessness of those endless circles is not life. It is an oblivion even more loathsome than any oblivion death may hold.

He knows I can do nothing with a diploma as an artist, and even if it does make a difference it is only a very small one. There's no way a publisher will look at your CV. There's hundreds of submissions waiting, and some of them bother to mention diplomas, but most of them don't, and they know from their experience with the thousands of former submissions they've flipped through that they can't tell anything about the quality of the submission from the mention of diplomas. If anything is consequential in one's CV at all, it is the mention of former submissions, for instance to magazines.

My brain is still fresh now, and it's now that I have to develop my abilities. I'm not going to spoil my years by subjecting my mind to indoctrination. But that's what everyone expects me to do because they're goddamn INDOCTRINATED to expect that!

Almost nobody really believes in me. How, then, can I believe in myself? But of course, when I say I don't believe in myself, other people will say that's because I'm just being negative, just as they'll ascribe the fact that I'm not going to the university to the same cause. Negativism, pessimism, depression, mental illness, whatever. Few people accept that I'm just different, and that whatever difficulties I'm having is because of that.

I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the whole of society and all its idiotic superficiality. The whole world is running in circles over and over again every day, like a dog chasing its own tail. There is no more beauty in people's minds, nor any longing for it.

And I'm not going to relate to those idiots. I will live, then, on my own, as far away from society as possible. I wil live in a world of my own, and only the people who share that longing for beauty I will let in.

And yet, I know it's all relative. They long for beauty too, but for them that beauty is in another soccer match or another pint of beer. For me it's in another drawing or another chapter. Is there really that much of a difference but in the amount of beauty?

But I am different from them nonetheless, and because I am different they try to change me. They don't even have to want to change who I am; just turning my attention from deeper beauty and onto their superficial idiocy is enough. I'm not on the same level as they are, and whenever I get into contact with them, it disrupts me. When one is different one becomes more and more like whatever people there are in one's environment. It is nothing one can help because they're part of one's world, of one's life, and so of one's mind, and the only thing one can do about it is going as far away from them as possible. But I want to stay who I really am inside, now, and if I change it will be in my own way. If I change, it will be to grow, grow towards ever greater and greater beauty. For in one thing we are fundamentally different: I want to grow towards God's totality, and perhaps that same need is there deep within them, but I am aware of it.

No-one can choose in my place, goddammit. I'd like to see them try, and I'd like to see the look on their faces when they find my corpse.

You can take my free will when you pry it from my cold dead arms, fools!

Finding Diane

In my solitude, during this month I somehow felt a strong sense of connectedness to Diane. Diane is how I tend to call whoever I hope will one day become my soulmate. Whoever I fall in love with, I know it will be with her. For I know that this will not happen more than once: I cannot fall in love with anyone who cannot become my soulmate.

There is, after all, a difference between falling in love and attraction. I might have felt attracted towards quite a few women, but it's neither relevant nor possible to say if that wasn't friendship: actually, I've felt a kind of attraction towards every woman I've ever felt closely befriended with - Liesbeth, Emma, Evelyn, Sofie, Valentine, even Paloma, and at some point the thought had invariably crossed my mind that I was falling in love with them. Sometimes, I would have longed to hold them for a long time or to hold their hand; but that is where the line between friendship and love is becoming vague, and most people would find such intimacy strange in friendship.

Yet the night of Saturday to Sunday, this feeling was stronger than ever. I stayed with Evelyn that night, and for want of a spare room slept in hers, in a sleeping bag. That night, I dreamt I woke up and came to her bed to held her.

For some reason it worried me for some time. What is it that makes me afraid of these attractions? What are they really but a kind of friendship? I do not feel at all as if I would want to be her lover, not even casually. But I long for her warmth; I long for warmth. I long for the warmth of close friendship, not the superficial friendship most people have. But I don't know how close I can get to people without having them, and myself, think that I am in love with them. I have no such problems with intimacy on mental level: as you can tell from this blog, I have no secrets. I share anything with friends they want to know, and ask them to share anything they want to share. Alas, you can't do this on physical level, except in biodanza.

Not unless you fall in love, or, as happened when Liesbeth fell in love with me, you tell yourself you are in love. It seems there is no way to get really close to someone physically without being in a relationship. I think this put me before a dilemma with Evelyn, because I just need someone to be close to.

But I cannot. Not without lying to her. Not without lying to myself. Now and then, my affection for friends went well beyond what most people see as friendship, but I am not most people. To me, a friend is a lover…

But a lover is a god…

And I want to remain loyal to Diane. Even though I do not know her yet, that is to say, I do not know her in reality. But she exists, inside me, as a dream; I found her in a dream, and if I will not find her in reality then I will remain hers in that dream.

But even though I haven't met her, I feel like I already know her. Despite never having seen her, I feel closer to her than I ever have been to anyone. I know she is real, somewhere: it's only the question of who she is. Without really thinking about it, I've been trying to contact her somehow, to tell her that I love her… does that make sense? It's as if I can already feel what kind of person she'd be. I've been thinking about her for so long that she's becoming more and more real. I can almost imagine the look in her eyes that would shine from inside with the feelings that work in her soul, the soul that I am seeking.

Do I believe in telepathy? I don't know. All I know is that the mere thought of talking to her is comforting. I daydream about her a lot, about us being together and holding each other and doing so many things together, and in my next lucid dream I want to try to find her.

I've prayed for so long to find her; now, I've been praying for months that I would find her this fall. To find her is all I ask. If anything I hold true is real in this world, I will find her. If I find her, everything will make sense; if not, then everything is meaningless and the universe is a cold and cruel place, a place I do not want to live in.

It was the first time in many years this weekend that it had really been snowing here, probably since 2003. The world was transfigured into such unearthly fairy-tale realm that it enchanted me to the depths of my soul as I walked through the nearby woods. It was as if reality was somewhere far away, covered by the soft blanket of a dream in which everything is heavenly white. My old fantasies of moving somewhere to the north came back more real than ever; snow is so romantic. It makes the world seem less human, for it covers our crowded cities with a mantle of nature. And suddenly we no longer just see the harsh bricks with which we have built them, for the sky's wonders lay above them, like a salve upon the scars we've built on the earth. The cold dark world of winter makes me feel as if I'm floating somewhere in between dream and reality.

I spent most of Sunday in the Bourgoyen, a nature's reserve. It was a magical day, and I am grateful for it. I've taken at least two hundred photographs, lest it wouldn't really snow again for another five years. It's such a pity the planet is warming up; I recall there used to be lots of snow when I was a child. But sadly, Belgium is just below (south of) the line to where snow usually reaches in winter - it used to be just above it.

When I spoke of E- to N-, he told me at once that she seemed like his kind of girl, and he asked me if I could introduce him to her. Knowing both of them, I thought that they could indeed fit together pretty well. After forgetting to tell her about him a few times, I eventually sent her an e-mail to do so.

When I talked to N- and later to E- about love, my longing for which has so much grown now over the months, I asked them what their ideal love would be like. It struck me that they had given a pretty accurate description of each other, even though they hadn't spoken each other yet.

I openly told them that if I was to believe them, they would be perfect for each other, and I told them about each other. The thought occurred to me some time ago that they could fall in love, and it did not leave me; it stirred up an joyful excitement in me, and at the same time a wistful melancholy. If they fall in love, then I am all alone to be alone among my best friends. I'll have no-one to share my loneliness with, and no-one with whom I can be more intimate than they could be with anyone else - maybe they wouldn't even care for me as much. Who now is left alone but me?

But I put this loneliness on the background, because I did not want to be reminded of it. Quite willingly I stirred up their interest for each other, although they didn't dare to have hope yet in fear of disillusionment. As an outsider, I myself was more hopeful. I was very excited, probably far more than either of them was. They are two of my best friends now, and they really need love. I'd never thought I could care so much. Others emotions are a way of forgetting my own.

Maybe I've been just a little meddlesome, as both said they felt like I was coupling them. Neither of them seemed to mind, however, well on the contrary. Even before I described them to one another they went along very well online. They both said the other was very nice, and funny.

I already knew as much myself.

When I talked with N- about love, I said that Diane, my own ideal love, would have four traits: she would be extremely sensitive, creative, profound, and a dreamer. All these things flow from extreme sensitivity: sensitive to experiences, sensitive to associations, sensitive to deeper beauty, sensitive for imagination. There would thus be only one aspect by which our personalities would be bound.

E- turns out to be three of these things. But is that enough?

But if it was, wouldn't I have recognized her the moment I saw her? The moment I saw her she'd given me the impression of being someone who is sensitive and profound, yet also someone has both her feet on the ground. I thought then that she was someone who is occupied with reality in an intelligent way, but not an imaginative way. She is not a dreamer, a poet or a philosopher; but she is very sensitive, profound and creative. And I love her in my own ways for her friendship and kindness, but I do not want to be in love with her.

I am very good in guessing people's personality based on their face, their physiognomy. I thought of a waitress once she looked like she "radiated a maternal warmth," and it turned out she studied to be a kindergartner; I thought of someone I'd met in a course self-hypnosis once that she looked like she was "capable of brilliant analytical problem-solving," and she turned out to lead a microbiology lab -- I later heard her father praised a "brilliant" essay she'd written on stem cells. Being so sensitive gives me a lot of intuition. I have so much intuition, in fact, that I believe I could see through any person's personality - if they have a personality.

I must confess that for some time I'd thought she was the one, from the moment she sent her first e-mail, and I believe she thought this too. But if she were the one, wouldn't I have noticed this at once? I had always imagined that if I would meet my soulmate, I would know that it was her in the blink of an eye. A soul so intense would shine through her whole being. Such extreme sensitivity is expressed in one's physiognomy with the years, even if only another sensitive person can see it, can read the language that is written in another's face.

I feel the need to be close to her. She is more alike me than anyone I have ever known, and I want our friendship to be intimate. But I do not want to spend my life with her. I do not feel like I could connect to her as if she were part of. I need someone with whom I could share everything, and who will share everything with me, and we will understand each other just as much as ourselves, as if we were part of each others' soul. I do not want to be in love in her, because I know that it could not last, and that it could not go as deep as I would want it to. I do not want to hurt anyone, and I want her to be happy. If I know, deep down, that even with E- I would still keep looking out for her - Diane - for I cannot give up my dreams, not for anything. I cannot get distracted from what I really want. If I do not want to stay with her, why should I be with her at all? Why should I try to hide the truth, if I am a seeker of truth?

And yet, I have been dreading to fall in love with her; for now it would no longer be safe. E- and N- have arranged to meet this evening as I write this, and they both know of the others' interest - not hope, not attraction, but at any rate interest. And from what they have said to me, I believe that this moment will be, or has been, crucial. I will know more tomorrow.

Where is it that people see this line between friendship and love? How can one not be in love at all one moment and be fully in love the next, and then stay in love for weeks or months? Is not love an emotion like any other rather than a zero-or-one state? Is it not a color, a hue rather than just black or white? Even when I wasn't in love at all, I would often have felt the longing to hold a friend's hand, or caress them or even kiss them, if only those borders between people could fall away.

I have experienced this only once, and it was when I was in need and a friend came to my aid. In my worst panic attack ever, I asked a friend to hold me as I lay in bed, without having to worry that she'd think I was in love with her. At that time I could hardly worry about that then when I felt I could have a heart failure any moment. For some time I really thought I was going to die; what with my trembling, shivering, sweating, chest pain, palpitations and hyperventilation, we were both were very afraid. But I've felt only once what it would be like if those artificial boundaries between people to fall away, and I know that it could not be possible in our society.

Yet it could also possible in love; and perhaps love is but the silent agreement to let these walls which we have made for each other as humans fall away. And because of this love seems inviting; even with E-, although I know that she isn't my soulmate; but she seems to come so close. But if I cannot love her without having to leave her, I cannot do it. And I know that I can only love someone if she is in love with me, as those borders could not otherwise fall away; but since I am not the one for her, how I can I let her fall in love with me knowing that one day it would all be over, when either of us would have found the one?

I know that in the last few weeks I have chosen a path, even if it seemed as if I have done nothing. The choices I've made were subtle, but I know that love is made of subtle choices; it often delivers its messages in the tiniest nuances, and this is all I can say to make you believe what mere words cannot make you understand. But it is already so hard for the mere three of us to understand our and each others emotions. We've all lived a bit in depersonalization.

But I know that I had been given a chance, and that I could have seized it. Had I fallen in love with her, I think she would have returned my heart's call; but my soul choose not to, because it was still dreaming of this ideal, of Diane, of someone who bleeds just as much in the same pains and passions for life. But who am I to reject life's offer of love, and ask for more, to cry for my soulmate, for Diane, to come to me? Am I racing towards my doom? Am I sealing my fate to be alone? Or is all I do to follow my heart, wherever its path may lead, and hope that someday it might bring me to her? I cannot ignore what my heart tell me, and I never will. My heart points onward, and I will keep on searching.

16/07/08

When I am in suffering, sometimes it isn't just because of the situation I'm in: at times it's almost as if I suffer or enjoy for the whole world. I must focus more on that which is, for me, not what could be or what is for others. I do not know what they feel like. But I know that in the here and now there is no suffering. That knowledge must be enough for me. And et I feel tormenten every so often because of "how life is" - never just because of how this moment is.

I am being narrowed by my thoughts. I have a thousand questions, a thousand doubts, and they are tormenting. Again and again the question is returning to me: WHY? and I am never able to find an anwer.

Why is there so much suffering in the world? Why?

Some people would think of poverty like there is here to cheer up, because they're better off. I cannot understand this. TO me, it feels like I experience their misery even more than they do themselves, as if I suddenly find myself in their place.

I am losing myself in what-ifs. And it feels like I have more emotion than I can deal with. I must get a grip on myself, but it's like riding a mad bull.

Do I have the ability to control my thoughts? It's like deep down I don't even want to control them as long as I don't have the answers to my tormenting thoughts.

But I must believe in God. Whatever it may be, I think there must be some kind of entity whih is watching us, who is with us, and I must trust it. But seeing people lying in the streets or with three tumbs or one leg doesn't help much with that. I must behold the horrors in the world bravely and say, things are as they are, and that is alright. But it feels like a most intimidating task. I cannot change the nature of the universe, and even though its parts will grow the whole, being infinite, will always remain the same.

That brings me, after this long rant, to what actually happened.

We departed from Brussel yesterday and arrived this night, or rather this night. I was exhilarated to fly for the first time, and serendipitously being seated at the window I spent most of my time admiring the sights, at least until we came into a cloud which was so blindingly bright that all windows were shut.

When we arrived in Delhi, a taxi, or rather two, took us to our hotel, which was in a little squalid alley, in as poor an area as you could find in Delhi. People were sleeping in the filthy street in the open air. I was at once shocked by Delhi, and really felt for the people who live here.

I felt very unhappy as soon as I arrived in Delhi, as if I'd arrived in hell. I found peace only when we got too sleep. I slept in a "sheet bag," which billowed gently around me in the constant strong gust of the ventilation, and I found it very pleasant and relaxing.

I find it to be a lot of trial and error to find a way to deal with my enormous emotionality, especially here in India. I would not give it up in a hundred years, but it is difficult. Sometimes I wish I could just cry for hours, but I can't. My only tears were red, and I still bear their scars.

These words, then, will be my tears.

17/07/08

We visited many places here in Delhi today. They were quite impressive, and some unlike anything I've ever seen. The Lotus temple left the deepest impression upon me, and I prayed earnestly inside. I seemed to experience it quite differently from the rest - for me, everything has a spirit, and if am to be here in Delhi it is to feel that spirit in it.

As expected, it's quite hot here - 45 degrees. Actually, I'm dealing with it far better than I thought, considering how bad I felt the hot summer of 2006 when it was 37 degrees the other day, but it is quite exhausting when you're shuffling through the city.

18/07/08

Got up at 2 o' clock, flew from Delhi to Leh. The sight was amazing, better than anything I'd seen in the eighth hours we flew from Brussels to Delhi - think of that: there's no such beauty between Brussels and Delhi as there is here in the Himalayas.

Leh was quite a relief after Delhi. It's in such stark contrast with it that we arrived at our guesthouse Deskit Villa with a blissful smile. It's sooo beautiful here in Leh. The people here are the kindest people there are in the world. The difference between Indians and Ladakhis, which are mostly Tibetans, is quite striking. Wherever you come across villagers, if it's not too many people you can be sure they'll greet you as a friend - "Yulleh, yulleh, yulleh..." In Delhi everyone was shouting.

When we took our luggage to our comfortable quarters, I came to the conclusion I've lost my iPod in the airport, and I'm not sure if I'll be able to get it back. I feel worthless. I know no-one is worthless, and I keep telling myself that, but somehow it's not working. I feel I'm not in control of my feelings anymore, and I'm very afraid.

I seem unable to forgive myself, and I can't stop worrying. Most of all, I'm afraid of fear itself - and of course when I'm afraid of fear I become afraid at once. It's the fastest self-fulfilling prophecy there exists.

I felt a lot better by the afternoon. This journey is really learning me not to think to much, and when I do, to thin positive. It's not that I mustn't suffer per se, I just don't need to.

The sights of Leh were quite beautiful, in stark contrast with the ugliness of Delhi. There's still poor people here, but they have much better lives.

That so few people flee from Delhi shows how it isn't really as bad to them as it seems to us. They're used to it. It strengthens my conviction that if only one accepts the here and now and focuses only on it, there can be no suffering. To suffer merely means to undergo. And it is something one creates oneself, through thought: thus it only exists in thought. It's not real: it's in our heads.

19/07/08

I vomitted last night before going to sleep, and at the same time had diarrhea. I had a fever, the worst since I had flu. I got up to vomit again later that night, and vomitted a third time by the morning. Three pills of Dafalgan, two of Motilium and one of Enterol only lessened the pain. I've barely eaten at all today, afraid that it would get worse.

I felt quite miserable today due to my illness. My despair went so deep I even cried at some point when we were driving. Fortunately no-one saw or heard.

Again, what felt the worst wasn't the pain itself but the same old question it raised. I don't want to be stop suffering till I know why God lets it exist at all. I just want answers.

Why is there suffering? I've been obsessed by the question for over a year now, and I can't seem to find any satisfying answer. We do not choose for our suffering: the poor in Delhi would not have chosen to be born there. The law of attraction doesn't make anymore sense than the law of coincidence: why would it be so much more righteous if things happened the way we think they will? It's not like we could control our expectations anymore than we could control the world.

Yes, I've often said everything, even that which we see as negative, has a value, but after the pain I've felt today I'm not so sure anymore. No matter how much I meditated on the pain it remained the same pain it seemed to be, and I could not find any beauty in it at all.

I've felt extremely alone lying alone in my room in Alchi in the falling darkness, with only a dim lightbulb to illumine the room, but in the end I read a book to stop thinking. I decided in the end I was a fool: the universe is so much greater than myself - who am I to doubt it?

———

Strangely, I actually felt pretty happy aside from the nausea in the morning, when we departed in the jeep from Leh. I was touched by the beauty of the world as I beheld the majestic mountains all around me. But eventually a we drove on, the pain, or the pain of my pain, took hold of me. Thus I made the same old mistake of being misled by thought, which is the only real suffering a man can have.

20/07/08

We drove on in our two jeeps to Lamayuru today. The trip was quite exciting because the drivers here would in our country be labelled mentally deranged - and the winding path along the flanks of the mountains were quite dangerous. I wan't actually afraid something would happen as I trusted the driver, but I was thrilled. It was like an attraction in an amusement park.

21/07/08

I barely slept at all last night due to violent intestinal cramps, and as a result of my agitation neither did my tentmate, which only added to my own restlessness. At about four o' clock I considered reading outside until sunrise so that at least he could get some sleep, then I reconsidered and decided to try one last time to fall asleep using painkillers. I got up feeling quite irritable, but somehow, against my expectations, the profound anxiety I'd felt over the past few days was gone. Strange to say I at once rather missed it somehow.

Today, we finally started our trek on the Lamayuru-Hemis route. However, we already stopped by noon, and not until tomorrow are we to resume. I think we're going way too slow, even for a first day, though I understand this may seem better to avoid hypoxia. I fail to see, however, why we couldn't instead moderate our speed instead of stopping altogether.

Having so much time and so little on our hands makes me think of home. I miss my friends, and I'm sure I miss Sofie most of all. And I'm dying to know if Muriel and Shana have found anything yet, or if Shana still wants to be a roommate. I'd be sorry to see her go.

And I miss Ghent in general. I feel very lonely today, especially after my fellow travellers displayed such frivolity yesterday, lighthearted but superficial. I know now I'm all alone here.

The only person I hope I might see as a friend in this journey or maybe even later, I think, would be Tom.

Of course, there's only one answer to these feelings of mine: "Attention, boys, here and now." But it feels like the here and now is too empty, however, to replace these memories of home. But I cannot accept an more of my petty objections. Here and now. Memories will not bring me any closer to home.

Oh, how I wish now I'd jumped on the opportunity back in Leh to go into one of those "STD-ISD" things. I'd no idea they had Internet there until I asked Tom when we departed from Leh. Now I won't have any opportunity to contact home until I'm back.

———

It's been a long time ago I've felt this way, brief as it was. When I was bathing my feet in the river and stared at the waves as they washed over me, at some point I felt how God was present in the waves and in the water itself, how it caressed me like it was a living being. It felt warm, and for the first time in days, I felt consoled by the feeling of love. The feeling stayed for just a while, as everything I saw seemed to become alive. Everything became like a friend, for I felt how God's spirit was infused in it.

22/07/08

I still feel very nostalgic, and of all my friends it's still Sofie I miss the most. I'm finding it hard to enjoy the scenery during the trek, as it is becoming arduous.

I wrote the names of some of my best friends on three flat rocks with a piece of chalk,. On a fourth rock I wrote "music," which aside from my friends is what I miss the most. I lay the rocks around me at the river and lay there for a while, one half of me enjoying the peace and one half of me reminiscing of home.

23/07/08

The most arduous day so far. We hiked for about 8 hours, climbing a mountain of almost 5000 meters. When we arrived, I was so exhausted that I hardly had the energy left to help rig up the tent, and when we had I lay in it for most of the day. What was most exhausting wasn't the walking, however, but the unabated cramps in my intestines, which have gotten worse over the days. I pretty nearly relapsed into negative thought because of the pain.

I'm pretty sure the reason wh I'm so much more affected by illness is stress.

In addition, I think I have a cold. My nose and throat hurt a lot. I have something against cold, but I try to use as little medicines as possible, however, since I've already had to use a fair amount of Dafalgan to ease my cramps.

Of course, we've been quite hungry every day when we finally had supper, but today I really felt starved. The food here is very light, and I felt my system was somewhat soothed by it, especially by the delicious soup.

24/07/08

I felt way more positive today than yesterday. As a matter of fact, I was startled to find my worries were gone, and I was so used to them I wondered where they'd gone. In fact, I almost asked myself if it was proper they were gone, but I didn't go down that slippery slope again. My troubles would not report for duty, and I felt freer. I really enjoyed the beauty of the mountains around me, which have become quite spectacular as we gained height.

25/07/08

I've been enjoying the landscapes more than ever before in my journey today. I like to sing with Tom, although unfortunately there are few songs we both know. One of those is Colors of the Wind, which is one of my favorites. I find the song quite apposite when we are walking through a breathtaking mountainscape in the Himalayas.

When we came to the rivulet near Chiling, at some point the group paused to eat. Having already eaten, I myself bathed in the brook with my clothes still on, and then sat on a rock in the brook to dry in the sun, which now and then would find its way through the clouds that scudded by. I nearly lost my glasses when somehow a spider ended up on them, and trying to hit it away I hit away my glasses to. I had to grope for it blindly in a deep basin which was under the rock I was seated on, but to my relief I did find it eventually.

You go through a lot of adventures when you're a complete goof.

26/07/08

Today is a resting day, but so far I've actually been quite active. Actually, I might've been doing more exercise than most other days, and it's only noon! We got up unusually late at 8 o' clock because we weren't to resume our journey until tomorrow. Myself, Tom, Dino and Josephine decided to climb the mountain adjacent our camping place. To my rapture it turned out to be far more steep than one would be inclined to believe when seeing it from the base.

We literally had to scramble up the mountain. It was exhilirating. And of course that was nothing compared to descending. It's interesting how scrambling on the rocks felt far less tiring to me than walking, even though it does cost more energy. The thing is that the physical energy it costs is made up for by the psychic energy it gives me. Walking is, after all, monotonous, but when climbing every move is different.

I feel very elated now, ever since the endorphin rush I had this morning. I was reminded that even something ostensibly as simple as "fun" can actually have a quite complex beauty. The beauty, for instance, of kinesthesia, of movement.

I'd scrambled to the top much quicker than anyone else, and then waited for the rest. I climbed in short etappes of five minutes and then rested for half a minute or so.

I love climbing, the energy of its movements, the expanding of the panorama as one climbs higher and higher. I'm sure it's because I practiced climbing in trees as a child that it goes so well now. Who knows, maybe I'll do something with it someday. Tom told me there are special treks in which one has to climb and descend steep mountains like this all the time, known as "klettersteigs" - the sense of freedom that would give me would be exhilarating.

We sat for about half an hour at the top (at least, I did, as the others were behind some time) enjoing the sights around us, which were some of the most spectacular we've seen so far because the mountain was so steep.

My mind didn't wander for a second int he face of such panoramas. I explored every ridge and every rock with my binoculars. Then, we got down. Oh, and then the real fun began. You see, the Ladakhi Himalayas have a very loose consistency. It's one of the youngest mountain ranges there is, and it came straight from the bottom of the ocean. It's composed mostly of very thin layers of rck, which on the flanks of the mountains quite often have broken into innumerable stone shards - I've got a few minor scratches because of them.

When we got down, we literally slid down the rubble, which was so thick there that we brought tiny avalanches of debris with us beneath our feet. For a large part we just surfed down the debris, without halting at all. It's what skiing must be like. For the rest of the descent I jumped and skipped from rock to rock, full of excitement as I went.

After that, I went back up the brook we came by yesterday to wash. It's been a long while. Despite the warm sun the water was quite cold, but it was lovely. I love water: it's the most beautiful substance there is. Watching it flow in countless cascades through the labyrinth of rocks in the gullet was quite relaxing. It makes a deep impression of me; I can sit there for hours watching the water as it cascades through the infinite maze of rocks. I've been very happy today enjoying the beauty of the nature all around me.

I finally found a few suitable flat stones. There's plenty of flat stones here, mostly slates, because the Himalayan rock is so multilayered. It's composed of hundreds of thousands of centimeter-thick layers, which are shattered at the flanks of the mountains in millions of pieces. I've sculpted a heart, which I'll paint when I'm back for Paloma. I've sculpted a smaller spare one in case the other'll break, not sure whom I'll give it to if both remain whole.

27/07/08

I've just discovered something, or perhaps rather I remembered it. What's made me so afraid of my emotions is that I name them: unconsciously I'm still labelling them as "good" or "bad," even though inside I know there is no such thing as good or bad. Things just are as they are, and one can either enjoy them or suffer from them. In fact, hope can be just as painful as despair as both are expectations. It is better to simply not care, and however here and now might feel, I should let it be as it is. In fact, even that doesn't matter that much. They're just feelings; and wherever my heart will bring me will be OK.

Actually, today was a rather eventful day, not only emotionally but also, well, in reality. We departed way too late because of delays, and we had barely set off when a landslide right in front of us blocked the road, causing two hours of delay, so that we were still walking in the baking afternoon sun. On our way we crossed the Zansker river in a makeshift box spun across the water. Lunch appeared to be mostly spoiled, so we ate little.

The best thing that happened today was that I found a pure quartz crystal, just what I'd been looking for for so long, for Paloma.

28/07/08

With the flank of one mountain of the valley on one side and the rare lush greenery on the other, the mellowest creamy smell rose to my nostrils from the trees. It made quite an impression upon me. So soothing... it felt like the softest air I'd ever breathed.

It's one of the few times we've seen this much greenery in our trekking. It is, after all, one of the few valleys which had both water and soil. It's quite a relief seeing trees again after another few days through the mountainous desert.

For a while I've been walking a good deal before the group, so I could sing without disturbing the others. Also, since I don't feel quite at home among the others, most of which don't seem to like me, I feel more comfortable alone. I met someone else who was also trekking and had also left his group a good deal behind, an Indian.

Eventually, the road split in two by a little village, and, not sure where we'd go, or if we'd still go on before dinner, I waited on a rock in the stream, bathing my feet in the ice-cold water. It took so long until the others caught up with me that for a while I thought I'd gone wrong somewhere.

As we were walking, today I became quite aware somehow how I liked how extreme a person I was. I explore all the extremities of human emotions. Happiness and hate and love and wonder and fear and peace and sadness and energy and apathy and inspiration and emptiness...

We went on through a valley which was mostly rocks in a stream, which I found quite fun to walk on, here and there hopping from rock to rock in a way that was quite deliberately unnecessarily difficult.

29/07/08

We had to cross two streams today, or perhaps rather two branches of the same stream. Not like we crossed the Zansker, or like we crossed many other streams hopping from rock to rock or by crossing some tumbledown wooden bridge, but by fording it.

I really enjoyed this, but Tom was being a bit too wary for my taste. He insisted we'd go in groups of two or three, and turn around as we'd cross the river. This would supposedly decrease the risk that we'd fall. I'm sure this only made it less practical, but maybe the others felt it was safer because they weren't alone. I for one did not feel comfortable at all, since I'm far more nimble at things like this than the others.

So we put out our shoes and threw them to the other side, and then I unwillingly went with two others, Joke and Dino. When we were almost there, I suddenly remembered that as usual I'd forgotten something. Surprise, surprise. I guess it was all too good to be true that I'd do something like this without something going wrong.

What I'd forgotten was this diary. It was still in my lowest pocket, where it was being flooded with water. At this point we'd passed the deeper parts, and I tried to hurry the group. The diary was already wet, and here and there the ink was slightly smudged, but I'd saved it in time.

I was later criticized for this, which, of course, brought me yet another guilty mood as I've had so many during this journey.

Well, the second went better. I so enjoyed the sensation of the ice-cold water around my legs, the adventure of treading on the unseen ground beneath it, the triumphant feeling of moving across the current, that I was sorely tempted to go back and across it again, and I would have weren't it that the others were still busy crossing the stream.

Then happened something which was quite hilarious to watch. Noel, who was still on the other side, tried to throw his one shoe across the stream, but threw so weakly it got only a meter or two far, right in the middle of the stream, where it started flowing downstream rapidly. Tom, who was standing in the middle of the stream and helping the others across, had just saved the shoe just in time and bawled "Don't throw your shoes," when Noel did it again, and again the shoe ended up squarely in the middle of the stream.

When we arrived at our camping, it turned out it was the worst we've ever had. There was no toilet at all, and what's worse, neither were there bushes or rocks for that purpose, so that we just had to go as far as possible in order not to be seen. In addition, there also wasn't water to wash, so I had to use my disinfectant.