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I heard you were raining today, Paris. I collapsed last night, away from you. It was still early; it was still light – much lighter than my inner world, anyway. Cold sweat and breakneck heartbeats before my vision got blurry and all my power – yes, even of the mind – was completely sucked off my body.

Not fun. Though we both know ‘light’ and ‘fun’ are not usually associated to my personality deep down.

I managed to go upstairs to grab a glass of water, shaking, and ran downstairs like monsoon raindrops to my bed, texted my Irish boat neighbour slash bestie Peter to confirm I would not be able to say hello to him and his old friend visiting last night, before disappearing into the unknown, for which I was actually grateful. Must be because my usually restless mind was already powerless. I’d blame the hot sun and my lack of sleep before anything psychological or heart-related, and I did not drink a single drop of alcohol, FYI.

The glass of water, pretty much untouched, was the first thing my eyes saw when I woke up at 6 this morning, and ‘balance’ was the first thing my mind read. I sat up to meditate then checked my phone to see Peter’s missed call and text from midnight to check in on me so I texted him that I was fine this morning.

Am I?

Well, a little dizzy, Paris. Urgh, I’d prefer giddy, though both imply being out of balance, albeit slightly.

The second thing my mind came up with was ‘pain’ – yes, even after the wonderful meditation that showed me wonderful places my mind was already capable of experiencing.

I’ve been in pain.

Now, I know you know I’m not unfamiliar with the word and the implication of the word, to say the least, but I’m thinking of the word from a distance here. After all, who’s the master of detachment when my mind has decided something is not good for me?

Problem is it could take my mind awhile before deciding, though I reckon I can go through the discernment procedures faster now, with the abundance of experience, even if I still like to analyse and give everything – most everythings, ou bien someone – most someones, the benefit of the doubt.

The first thing to consider is if the pain is good for me. I already knew why I was in pain – I don’t stop analytical thinking just because I’m doing chores, crying or even having sex, unless it’s that good – the crying, I mean.

I don’t know yet, because then there is the second stage pain. I felt that my power was taken away from me, even before I physically collapsed, and I certainly don’t like it – now we’re blaming more than just the sun and lack of sleep. But that can’t be the reason, or enough reason, to say that the pain is not good for me. I’m not that selfish or egotistical, I don’t actually care that much about hard power.

In fact, I’d love to learn to drop my ego even more, if that’s possible – that’s possible, and if that means more truths will be revealed and eventually accepted. My power is in my ability to stay soft in the face of difficulties. I care more about balance, and this could be the reason why the pain might not be all that good, or even necessary, for me. We’ll see.

That brings us to the third thing my mind came up with when I woke up this morning and that is ‘care’. Wow, I’m this sharp when waking up from a collapse maybe I should faint more often!

When you’re in pain and you’ve articulated your pain to someone, or when your pain is obvious to someone, regardless if they caused it or just have been perceived to have caused it – it’s irrelevant, do you receive care? Or do they hold on to their hard power and choose to ignore?

I am a believer that the mark of civilisation is care. Anthropologist Margaret Mead remarked that a healed femur in ancient culture signifies the first sign of civilisation; that someone injured healed when they received care and support.

Well, I didn’t break my femur, Paris – thank muck for that! Just the heart, and the ego, both of which have thrown me out of balance. I am eager to restore balance. Not between pain and power, because I am willing to drop my ego so that I can articulate my heart pain better and not causing pain to others in the process; but between pain and care.

I can still care for myself, of course, eventually. In fact, this pain has forced me to learn to better care for myself so I guess it was necessary, or am I just very good at seeing the best in the worst things? Either way that is survival and I dream of thriving instead, in a civilisation.

Well, damn, that brings us to the next question: have I met someone I can start a civilisation with?

I heard you were raining today, Paris. I feel lightheaded and I long to collapse safely in your arms.

londres, le 3 mai 2026

je t’embrasse !

d.o.