Inga Abele - High Tide

“A dead boring world is a paradise.”

“Paradise?”

“Or a hell.”

“Something solitary is dead boring?”

“Something solitary is death itself.”

“And so listen, my little deity, who just a minute ago wanted to create a world sans the shadows of evil — listen! The mind of man is small and his dreams are within reason. They’re only the safe, good, and painless ones. It’s not worth wasting any energy.”

“Evil takes care of itself.”

“Wasting energy for evil is even dumber.”

“Then what’s left? Watching how life lives my body?”

“Yeah, better to chase after events like a bloodhound. This endless clash of black and white is colorful.”

“Why did you say that being outside yourself was worse than slitting your wrists?”

“Back then, when I was with Aksels, love justified everything we did. Even the most horrible and incomprehensible things.”

“You needed justification? Who were you trying to justify yourself to?”

“Not like that. That’s not what I meant. The sense, y’know? The sense.”

“Sense. Strange word.”

“Well yeah. Now I do everything with consideration, I try to be precise and guided by experience, but all that sensibility goes to waste. It’s a calculation! Correctly calculated empty accomplishments and losses. It’s all trivial. Once it was high tide. Now it’s low tide. I’ve been washed away from myself.”

“I’ve started a path, but I don’t know if it’s for my benefit or not. But I can’t stop or turn back. It’ll be a test, hey! — it’ll be an interesting experiment — will I be able to take my idea and create a path? You can write your final dissertation on it! I’m in two. It’s the only thing that fascinates me and keeps me alive! Me and my body.”

“Maybe it is the onset of some kind of psychological disease. Maybe we can still do something about it.”

“You could, but only if the goals of both of me line up.”

“What’s your body’s goal?”

“Love, laugh, stay sane, be as strong as a mighty oak for myself and for others.”

“And what’s your goal?”

“To not be here.”

“Maybe you’re confused. Maybe your goal is to observe.”

“Observe?”

“Observe. If you’re destined to be outside yourself anyway. Maybe your joy comes from observing your physical body and the physical bodies of others, to observe life, fate, how they come together and part, and come together again. Observe and believe you understand something when something becomes clear; that it might be the answer to at least one question.”

“Thanks, brother. You’ve got some highly flattering opinions of me.”

“You look that arrogant, by the way. You would be the one to come up with something like that.”

“When the essence of things reveals itself, you stop doing them automatically. That’s what I meant. But maybe something else, though, I don’t know. No one is themselves in conversation. It’s what does exist that talks through us. A million mouths, a million eyes.”

“Don’t get mad, but seems to me you can’t love.”

“That’s it?”

“Only love.”

“That’s almost too simple.”

“But it’s true. Everything else is trivial and made-up.”

“Why?”

“Love isn’t in your control. It comes to you. There’s no other way. You’re whole again. You don’t question anything.”

“But I do have questions! Okay, so it turns out I don’t have love. And I can’t answer any other way in the face of a logical confession. And here we are.”

“And so you want me to pity you?”

“No. No need to pity, to be sad for me, to express your opinion, nothing. I’m glad that you met me for lunch today, that you sat here, drank black tea. Thank you for carefully picking the bones from your trout and putting them on the fish bone plate. Thank you for convincing me to order this delicious cod. Fish contains phosphorus, which promotes thinking. Thank you for not talking. Thank you for saying a few things that I can spend a lifetime thinking about if I wanted to. Want is at the center of everything. Simple, straightforward want. So everything happens because we want it to. It’s the world we live in. It’s so important! You know… Sometimes I need this more than anything, for you to be sitting there, across from me, drinking tea. It’s like your eyes are a chair I can sit and rest in for a while. Thank you.”

“Such lavish thank yous. And thanks for that!”

“You going to call Laura over?”

“Yeah. Laura, honey!”

“Laura!”

“Laura, sweetie, we have to go, say bye-bye to Auntie Ieva!”

“Bye-bye!”

“Bye, Laura, you lively little girl! Laura is beautiful.”

“Yep.”

“When Monta was little, she used to always say that too — yep.”

“Little kids are whole. I already said it, but take care of yourself. Go see a good psychologist.”

“That would just be more schooling, not the truth. It’s not a solution.”

“Truth doesn’t exist. But somewhere there’s a solution. And you’ll find it. You’ve earned it. Don’t look so creepy. Life is good. You’re good. Everything’s good.”

“Thanks, brother.”

“Bye!”

“Bye!”

“Pāvils!”

“Yeah.”

“Be honest — do you think I avoid taking responsibility for my life? But that someday I’ll learn how? Someday I’ll get back into myself? But you know I can’t rush it, it has to happen on its own.”

“Yeah.”

“Is that what you think?”

“Yes.”

“You make everything sound so unrefined. Everything that’s secretive and beautiful, everything that makes sense.”

“You can do so much with words. Lie a lot. Embellish. Make mistakes. It’s a giant avalanche that crashes over you if you so much as move a word. It starts to roll and picks up other words along the way, and there you have it! You can’t even lie with words — but that’s giving it too much meaning. Pointlessly passing the time instead of doing something.”

“For example, going to elections. To vote.”

“Right, for example.”

“Rake the yard. Take off nail polish. You’re naïve.”

“Call me what you want. But I have my convictions.”

“And that’s why I respect you. Thank you for that.”

“Are you back inside yourself when you say that? Where’s the thank you coming from?”

“The universe.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire… Laura!”

“She’s getting antsy.”

“Go. And God bless!”

“What an old-fashioned farewell! But I’ll gladly accept it.”

“Do you think God is in one piece?”

“Everyone knows that God is a trinity. At least the Christian God. I don’t know. They’re stupid word games. See, at times form is enough. To live together. People live together, so there has to be some sense in it. Raising children or writing dissertations, novels, cookbooks, screenplays, even making pancakes! Earning money. Spending it. Expressing an opinion. Fighting for something. Something like that, right?”

“Exactly. Alright, I’m going.”

“Go.”

“Hang on! How come you thanked me for being quiet for a while during lunch? Were you observing me?”

“No. I wasn’t doing anything special. We were sitting. Talking. Time was passing. That’s almost the only thing that still brings me joy. The fact that time goes on. Cars drive down the street. It’s about to rain. Ducks are nibbling the grass. Nothing makes sense, but the water keeps flowing. Beautiful.”

“Beautiful.”

“Tell me, Pāvils — are you in one piece?”

“I don’t think about it. And I won’t. This illness could be contagious.”