When the child was a child 
It walked with its arms swinging, 
wanted the brook to be a river, 
the river to be a torrent, 
and this puddle to be the sea.
– Peter Handke, Song of Childhood

Gedanklich geordneter Stein

 Today, I am one year older than I was a year ago.

As happens every year, on this very day, I feel absolutely no different.

This is complete rubbish, of course, since I’m a radically different person today than I was back then, some three hundred and sixty five days in the past.

Since then, I have taken on a wealth of experience, of mistakes and achievements; each of which dug its little hook into the fleshier parts of my soul, dragging me in one direction or another… so that I am become each year a Renaud armoured with ever more baggage (both good and bad).

I am my very own memorandum.

A walking, talking, breathing museum of all the Renauds that were there before – constantly shedding past selves as I step into a future me: both the product and the symbol of my own accumulated existence.

I am that I am.

And I like to think that, something close to 99% of the time, that which I am is a net positive event in the life of the people around me.

I occasionally mention this, but 99% of that which I am is a product of you.
All of you make me who I am, all of the time.  Everything that you say, everything that you do, is pulled into my Self and drawn into something new…
I may not be who you want me to be, but I am you.

So THANK YOU.  I love being me.
It’s a wonderful adventure.

Freu Dich des Lebens

Als das Kind Kind war, 
warf es einen Stock als Lanze gegen den Baum, 
und sie zittert da heute noch.
– Peter Handke, Lied Vom Kindsein