I wanted only to try to live in accord with the promptings which came from my true self. why was that so difficult?

for today, some Hermann Hesse:
"I have begun to listen to the teachings my blood whispers to me. My story is not a pleasant one; it is neither sweet nor harmonious, as invented stories are; it has the taste of nonsense and chaos, of madness and dreams-like the lives of all men who stop deceiving themselves.
Each man's life represents a road toward himself, an attempt at such a road, the intimation of a path. No man has ever been entirely and completely himself. Yet each one strives to become that-one in an awkward, the other in a more intelligent way, each as best he can. Each man carries the vestiges of his birth-the slime and eggshells of his primeval past-with him to the end of his days. Some never become human, remaining frog, lizard, ant. Some are human above the waist, fish below. Each represents a gamble on the part of nature in creation of the human. We all share the same origin, our mothers; all of us come in at the same door. But each of us-experiments of the depths-strives toward his own destiny. We can understand one another; but each of us is able to interpret himself to himself alone."
Well, okay, Hermann, but what do you think about communion, love?
"Love must not entreat, or demand. Love must have strength to become certain within itself. Then it ceases merely to be attracted and begins to attract..I will not make a gift of myself, I must be won."

That's all from Demian. I re-read it today. Whatever the man's got to say always coincides with the troubles tumbling around in my hairheartdryer.
I guess I've gotta listen to my blood. Okay.

Pick up your feet when you walk and speak directly
be a companion to yourself and when its pain
when its giving up, obsessive
ego cracking jokes avoiding
gettin scared, utilizing tools at hand
running wild like a pig to be slaughtered
and i'm trying, you know, not to eat bacon
pig path, kris boots, snake-scared
courageous lonesome companion
bring the nice cheese
the good wine
slowly, slowly
feeding wolves
between my ears
so some'll die and that'll be the headache
If i'm gonna cry, maybe I can just do that sober
If i'm gonna be a fool maybe I can do it honest
if i'm gonna wonder, maybe just wonder
slowness.


O look I've sprouted hooves like wing seeds.