Hanging on nothing

That's the feeling sometimes. Hard to put it in words. Normally life happens in a net of references and meanings – or references giving it its meaning. What if suddenly you can't see it anymore? What if suddenly you realise you have been always reading the map wrong? Not that you got lost: you simply went nowhere.
Here I stand, slightly detached, looking at my text from the edge. I still love it, I think that yes, I can still live in it. But I'm locked out and able to get its relativeness, fragility, irrilevance. It's mine. And I'm tired to run after things I don't belong to: it's like going out with people you really don't know pretending they are friends. But what do I belong to? Nothing, nobody, nowhere. Obviously if you ask me – if I ask myself.
All is the same. I'm not saying all is worthless, just the opposite. All can do it, all is fine when you put yourself in it. All is nothing when you lack of motivation and honestly I don't think you can get back your motivation from outside.
Look at the Tour de France: the most important race in the world. I know a few people in there, riders, staff, journalists, photographers, and they are living and dieing for it. Their deep involvement allow them to create great stuff. Meanwhile people are killing themselves in Palestina, still persuaded it's worth of it, and for sure you can find some sad greatness in such a carnage. For them it makes sense as for others the Tour, better: it makes all the sense.
I lost it. Sometimes it happens. I think it happened to me when Andy Schleck crashed out the last time. I had lost it another time at least, many years ago, when I was a full time militant and suddenly I realised it didn't matter anymore for me. It wasn't that I had changed my mind, I still think that way but I'm not committed to give it all anymore. I let it go. Now I had started writing about cycling for Andy but I had stopped since the last Pris-Nice. I love writing, cycling gives me good stories. On a different level I still care about Andy, it isn't something you can end. I stopped thinking about it long time ago but it still work inside and not in a good way.
It has been not easy to elaborate the fact my political project got defeated in spite I had stopped working for it. It's very hard to see that a person I can't stop caring about is living a very hard time in spite it isn't my bussiness anymore – and to be honest it has never been.
But I'm not saying that Andy Schleck's abandon is the reason of my actual lost of motivation. There is more than that. I think I went too close to keep enjoying the show. I don't like all that crashing on wet roads, broken bones and killing dreams. I don't like people so long away from home all absorbed by something they consider very important while for the rest of the world are absolutely irrilevant. At the same time I perfectly know that's true for anything you do. You are the one confering importance and meaning. When you see that as I see it now... you can hardly keep any motivation.
Priorities. Do you think 'natural', 'objective' priorities (or values) exist? It seems that 'loving and being loved' should be the first one, doesn't it? But it's quite obvious that that would lead to a very boring existence. Nothing great has never been done without the sacrifice of love: think of it. Can you imagine to spend all your life cuddling at home and taking care of your family? Yes, it sounds nice at first. I'm sure I'd get bored. So we go away, messing around for 'greatness'. It seems that could be a main difference between humans and other animals: we make up our priorities (or values). Toubles begin when we forget we had made them: then we are ready to kill each others, or to make others suffer a lot.

Probably I'm going to sink again in my net of references and meaning, or to make up a new one. For the moment I stay here on the edge, achieving few. Cooking, eating, cleaning, watching the sun rising and setting in a spectacular - and meaningless beauty -  

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