Nessun dorma

At Urban Espresso Bar with ‘Nessun dorma’ by Pavarotti on repeat, sipping a small latte, I am waiting for time to pass.

Tonight I wont be alone. Tonight I will hold someone. I wait.

I promised myself I wouldn’t go to Urban today, I wouldn’t spent money I promised myself. I failed.

Just one latte, to sooth my anguish.

I have spent half my day at the Rotterdam library, initially looking for carreer opportunities, not long after just reading while listening to classical aria’s.

I finished reading ‘Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind’ by Shunryu Suzuki. I finished it on a cloudy day amidst other people studying on the third floor and the people moving up and down the escelator opposite me.

Beautifully he describes nirvana. We are like a drop of water falling from a waterfall. As a drop we are afraid, we are alone and have feelings that make us confused, we are mid-air, with no solid ground. Eventually we become one again with the river from which we fell. The fall is only temporary, but even in our fall we are part of a larger body of water falling and a river streaming.

It comforted me a little.

The clock was still ticking slowly, I was done searching for carreer opportunities, I was finished reading and I became self-conscious about having no direct purpose, while around me people seemed purposefully busy.

I packed my stuff and walked to the philosophy section. I’ve searched the shelves innumerable times already, no new additions. I held a book on Schopenhauer by Safranski, but the pages were dirty and yellow and just didn’t feel right. Next I held his ‘Parerga und Paralipomena’. What was I looking for? I was just feeling restless, empty and purposeless and I needed something to comfort me, anything. Schopenhauer is comforting, but I was looking for something else, a more immediate gratification with less pages.

I looked further. I passed the mindfullness section. Many titles, but nothing with my name on it.

It was still a long while before I would see her. More time to kill. With no purpose I was standing and looking at endless booktitles, none of direct interest.

Then amidst the self-help books I found another Schopenhauer, a tiny little pocketsize Schopenhauer. It was his ‘Die kunst , glücklich zu sein’ in a Dutch translation. A second of gratification, a short feeling of excitement, I took it with me and looked further. I never looked through these shelves before, more books about Buddhism, Judaïsm, Zen. A Dutch translation of ‘The Zen teachings of Bodhidharma’, I took it with me.

Downstairs I scanned my library card and scanned the two books. I owed the library five euro’s. I never brought back my books on time. I payed what I was due, reluctantly. Again empty, with no direct destination I walked out of the library. Still another hour to kill. Still that empty feeling inside.

Fuck it, I need a latte.

It’s half pas five. I can go see her. I can have dinner with her. I can tell her about my day, about my worries, about my empty feeling. I can show her the books I took out from the library. I can hold her.

Shunryu Suzuki says it’s alright. If it rains, it rains. Feelings come and feelings go.

I sat down at the Urban Espresso Bar, with Nessun Dorma on repeat, writing this post, and now it’s time to leave. Time to finish and publish this post. Time to eat. To eat with her.

It’s ok.