To admit the complex, even contradictory, nature of all things, the novel suggests, is to possess a greater (and more artful) understanding of life….. (To the Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf)
The contradictory nature of things, the irony of a life’s quests and triumphs. The search for meaning, to validate an existence, to re-establish one’s roots in a continuum that unifies the past and the present, navigating a path of truth following the signs.
Here I was, many questions, much before me and behind me, marked by all I encountered, my endeavours, my failings, driven by my wilful purpose to do more than survive, to reveal who I was creatively and intellectually, looking for a way to reassemble these fragments of my person in one whole.
At 40° the heat from the furnace hit me as I descended into hell, although I didn’t know it yet. Our spirits on high we relished the warmth of this sun soaked serenity to meet the second descent. Sullen faces before us, they bore little resemblance to the people I remembered, the lily had gathered thorns and lost her hue in the austerity of their village without dreams, where it was necessary to take antidepressants to face each day. The dissolved memories a stale perfume were now far removed from the existence that occupied their days.
We were lamb to the slaughter, their son would later shed his coat to play us all in retaliation for who I was and who he could never be. The aftermath would reveal him as the cause of their doubts.
Three days of travel crossing several continents, passing through 4 airports and yet here they were reluctant to be there, tired by the idea, disappointed even. Their son’s journey to NZ had in fact very little to do with me, it was more an assurance for them, for a better life, outside Europe. This would be revealed later, not before I would stand accused of this very intention they represented, reprimanded before extended family and friends in a constant flow of sceptic analysis. For the moment we were on reserve, and even then I managed to smile, what was their excuse.
The air of my mistake descended on me, a dark omen of what was to come. In silence I ate a spectator to this tragedy unfolding, asking myself why I was there, powerless to act, without words to express, alone in my exclusion.
The third descent from 40° to 30° below zero saw my capacities frozen in one of forced submission to the cruellest acts of reduction. Icicles protruding like daggers upon my heart I let myself be carried on the summer breeze away from the voices of discontent, for an instant in self reassurance.
I, myself and I would be the only source of real comfort for the years to come, set aloft by all I knew to ice over, in the shadows of these small folk. A long quest lay before me, a treacherous ascension from the depths where I had been cast in tyranny, where the symbol of my love became my most vicious adversary. He would try to render me motionless, to keep me from advancing, to keep others from assisting my progression, but water is not to be controlled and conditions change its properties with rapidity. Behind my closed eyes he was powerless to disrupt me from the sanctuary of my subconscious Providing the current to keep me alive, I could travel in my mind and dream of the end of the ice age, of spring.
