SATURDAY, 5 MARCH 2005
If you want to hold something in your hands forever and it slips through your fingers, are your hands ever the same afterwards? Or does it leave behind, not so much a scar, but something beautiful that will remind you of the wonder that you had wanted to hold onto so tightly?
WEDNESDAY, 9 MARCH 2005
Jacob the Desert Walker stumbles into the wilderness. He has been there before. He has a rough map in his head. But wilderness, this he knows, is not desert. And desert … is certainly not the wilderness.
The career I have defined for myself or that I have chosen from the many possibilities I have been confronted with since it dawned on me that I, too, had to become a working adult at some point, was that of poet.
Not few are the people who have commented on this. “Poet?” they dryly ask. “You do know that you will never live above the poverty line, don’t you!”
It is true that over the years I have become aware of the fact that the world in which I have to fight for my place in the sun does not reward “poets” with permanent employment, financial security, a regular income, a company car, or medical aid. I therefore had to slightly broaden my chosen path so that I can, in addition to writing poetry, also employ other genres to criticise in fine detail the world where I cannot enjoy the same compensations for my career as a dentist, a street sweeper or a bank clerk.
THURSDAY, 10 MARCH 2005
You only exist until you are born.
Or: Some people exist only as that which he or she has been given plus the results of their choices up to a point – the result of introspection, of knowledge attained about themselves, of confronting themselves, observing themselves and of defining who and what they want to be. If this process is of a certain quality and if they spend enough time on it, the moment when that point is reached can for all practical purposes be regarded as the Moment of Birth.
FRIDAY 11 MARCH 2005
Many things in my way – scars, fears, insecurities, past experiences that have caused measures to rise up like forts in the desert … everything is remembered, yet abandoned because of one thing – if you believe again, despite fears and insecurities, you know that you allow yourself to live.