This is it.

I speak to my sister the day after my foot surgery and she says “I haven’t heard you being so positive about life in a while, but maybe it is the painkillers talking..”. On Monday Oct 5th I was performing with Mårten Spångberg at the Judson Church in New York, on Tuesday morning Oct 6th I was at NYU’s hospital having someone drilling holes in my foot.

What matters all of a sudden is the movement of the leaves when the wind blows through it. How the transition from green to yellow is creating a consistent pattern on the gathering of leaves above my head. The way the sun hits the branch and makes the crown glow is more important than any future ahead of me.

“This is the most beautiful moment” I say to myself as I, in my exhaustion, try to push myself up the stairs with the crutches. “This is life in itself” is repeated over and over in my mind, as if to remind myself in case I will forget it when taking the next step. I look at the dirty wooden step and think “it is it”.

I have escaped from life in itself by living in the hopes of the future and the achievements of the past. We all do it, all the time. We are taught to do so. That is how we identify ourselves. Although I have had this realization many times before and my practice the past years has been to investigate methods and structures which within I can erase identity, predetermined semiotics and linguistics, and see the world and myself as if I saw it for the first time, this practice soon became successful to me which meant I would begin to reproduce and perform it rather than just allowing it being a result of my “doing”. I realize today that I actually had been back on square one once again, by suddenly without preparation being pulled out of it, once again.

Within rupture there are endless of possibilities.

The control I had gained from constituting my identity in relation to the past and the future is suddenly lost and all I have now is reality, life in itself. An event suddenly happened, which I cannot define as a good nor bad experience, because this event just had to happen. Somehow it is leaving me with no other choice than just seeing what is really there. Not what I want or thought was there, but what I am and the world is, without judgment. This tangible, temporary experience, that cannot be defined nor reproduced. That can only exist and be experienced in the doing of it. It cannot be thought of.

It just is. We just are.

That is excitement. The moment I allow myself to let go of the experience of myself and lose control to life itself. Not life as I wish it was. Not me in relation to life. Which can be the smallest leaf. Or stone. Or sweat on my forehead.

We don’t know what happens when we fully give ourselves to a moment. I don’t know what happens to myself the moment I give in and allow myself to be a part of what I experience. When I don’t know what happens before it happens. I neither know what will happen to life as I communicate with it. That is the most beautiful moment.