It fills me with happiness
Happiness that brings back a memory
A memory of you
You lying on that pillow
That pillow I now cover my face in
My face that smiles entirely with only the thought of you
You who held my hand
My hand that you squeezed
Squeezed to let me know this was a moment beyond words
Words that can not tell the tale
The tale of love.
Love that is certainly not ment to be
Politics in Turkey is very different that I’m used to in Belgium or even Western Europe. And if for one thing being active in a European Political Federation is that is very informative about the sense of politics. Politics as in political parties. Politics as in a parliamentary democracy. Politics between right- and left-wing policies.
And in those things politics in Turkey is very different. In every sense.
It might be very strange to understand for anybody who is used to any kind of Western European kind of politics but it is so. I only hope that by writing this down I don’t seem too much like a spoiled Western European brat who knows things so much better. A kinder manner of neo-imperialism.
But things in Turkey are very different indeed. For one there seems to be no such thing as a difference between political parties. All of them seem to be very nationalistic minded, militaristic and conservative. There seems to be no such thing as a difference as in conservatives, liberals, socialists and progressives.
If there’s any difference then that should be that between black and white. There is no such thing as a grey area of politics. You’re either in favor or against. No middle way at all. And in such extremist surroundings it doesn’t even make sense to be grey. Not at all. No sense at all. Because that only confuses. And confusion in the field of politics, or for whatever else that matters is just not done in Turkish society.
This black or white thinking also makes it impossible to ever think about a parliamentary democracy. The closure of any Kurdish party (the only worthy opposition party possible) has shown this. Seven Kurdish parties have been closed down this way. Because they were against a majority thinking Because they were against a Turkish nationalistic approach. Because they defended a minority (maybe only the biggest minority in the Turkish Republic, but still). And this is unsettling in what should be considered a democracy. This is actually not even worth to be called a democracy when parties that stand up for minority rights are abolished just because of that. And all other reasons given are just crap.
Also the complete lack of something that could be considered a a left-wing party in the Turkish Republic is completely strange. Because no matter how progressive a party may seem here, it is always overshadowed by nationalism, by militarism or by clear racism. There is as such no such thing as critical thinking. And that is something that is needed to be left-wing, to be progressive. To be able to change.
And therefor I fear that this way of politics, that has drowned society, or that is maybe a result of the societies wishes, maybe never really ready for democracy. Or even the illusion of democracy. Because democracy as such takes courage to think differently. To be in acceptance of minimal change.
Many bitter tears I’ve shed tonight. Much shit has been spilled tonight. And it has been good. For the first time in a very long time – and maybe for the first time I’ve felt like myself. Myself. And that’s a bloody hard thing for me.
I’ve come a very fucking long way. I’ve moved here to Istanbul with the illusion to find myself. With the pretext that in Belgium I couldn’t find myself. Drawn back from reality. Far and far away from anything that felt even remotely real. Not even close to be myself. Not in identity. Not in Thinking. Not in feeling. Thinking it was the Western European Way of things. That that was what I couldn’t feel. But here. Where I built this illusion to be close to what i really am i can’t even get close to anything. I’m even further away from finding myself.
And that realization that everybody. Every fucking body here in Turkey is so fucking far away from their own identity. From their own feelings. That that coldness. That that embodiment of being closed down is everywhere. That is killing me.
After all these years of feeling excluded. Of feeling left out. Of thinking of differences I finally wanted to come home. To feel a part of something. But apparently even that seems impossible. There will always be a non)belonging. That’s for sure. As it i impossible to live in 2 worlds. There’s only 1 world. And I don’t belong. I don’t feel it. Therefor I shouldn’t be. Just not be.
Love is longing and longing, the pain of being being parted;
No illness is rich enough for the distress of the heart,
A lover’s lament surpasses all other cries of pain.
Love is the royal threshold to God’s mystery.
The carnival of small affections and polite attachments
Which litter and consume our passing time
is no match to Love which pulses behind this play.
It’s easy to talk endlessly about Love,
To live Love is to be seized by joy and bewilderment;
Love is not clear-minded, busy with images and argument.
Language is too precocious, too impudent, too sane
To stop the molten lava of Love which churns the blood,
This practicing energy burns the tongue to silence;
The knowing pen is disabled, servile paper
Shrivels in the fire of Love. Bald reason too is an ass
Explaining Love, deceived by spoilt lucidity.
Love is dangerous offering no consolation.
Only those who are ravaged by Love know Love,
The sun alone unveils the sun to those who have
The sense to receive the senseless and not turn away.
Cavernous shadows weigh down your vision with dross,
But the rising sun splits the ashen moon in empty half.
The outer sun is our daily miracle in timely
Birth and death, the inner sun
Dazzles the inner eye in a timeless space.
Our daily sun but a working star in a galaxy of stars,
Our inner sun is One, the dancing nuance of eternal light.
You must be set alight by the inner sun,
You have to live you Love or else
You’ll end in words.
You were my first love. My biggest love. Maybe even my deepest love. And I’m stating this after 10 bloody years. I only wish I had this knowledge back then. But apparently these things only time can show. It might also be that the year 2010 is vastly approaching and that the turn of the decade is making me reflect on things. On what has happened during these past 10 years.
As much as i thought I would never make it past January 1st 2000, especially without you, I would have never imagined that I would make it into 2010. And now suddenly this is a possibility. And with this possibility my biggest reflection comes to mind. Love. And It’s driving me crazy like f*ck.
It’s not that I don’t know that I’ve been living love these past years. I’ve at least loved much. I’ve received much love. Maybe not returned those. But still. It’s a weird acknowledgment, but I have to make it still, that realization that after you I’ve never encountered love that was in any way like ours. It was never that pure. Never that total. Never that sincere. Never that passionate. Never that full. Never that much. And that somehow breaks my heart. That missing out on that.
It only seems right that, considering circumstances and all, I would also deserve to encounter that kind of love. You did so why can’t I? Our was our kind of love the last we both deserved?
Listen oh listen to my plaintive cry
Listen to my my longing or else I die
From the sweet home of my bed I was torn
So my pain and crucial longing was born.
With so many secrets I sing aloud
But none sees nor hears in this crowd
Oh for a friend to know my burning state
That our souls may mingle and contemplate.
The flame of Love discourses in me
The wine of Love so enforces me.
Do you wish to know the fire, the flow
Listen my listener then you shall know.
And now, the end is near
And so I face the final curtain
My friend, I’ll say it clear
[I’ll] state my case, of which I’m certain
I’ve loved a life that’s full
I traveled each and every highway
And more, much more than that,
I did it my way…
Regrets, I had a few
But then again, [too] few to mention
I did what I had to do
and saw it through without exemption,
I planned each charted course,
each careful step along the highway
And more, much more than that,
I did it my way…
Yes, there were times,
I’m sure you knew,
When I bit off
more than I could chew
But through it all,
when there was doubt
I ate it up… spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall
and did it my way…
I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried
I’ve had my fill, my share of losing
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that
And may I say, not in a shy way,
“Oh, no, oh, no, not me, I did it my way”.
For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught.
To say the words he truly feels
and not the words of one who kneels,
The record shows I took the blows
and did it my way…
Oh, no, oh, no, not me,
I did it my way…