“In a past life I was mistakenly a poet.
In a former existence I must have been a painter.
And I am unable to throw off my remnant habits … “
(Wang Wei)

A self sometimes absent but a person seeking (practising) presence.
Sometimes seeming cold, but simply shy, and rather awkward.
Taciturn, solitary …
And I am listening for … somehow hearing … a heart, beating …
Is that mine? Or yours?

And I call myself here, on this website, and in my own words : Bede Nix.
This “pen name” represents an attempt again to escape and perhaps even to lose myself, and in this way to have a little less self, or no self, indeed … unless in truth it’s only to mask a self, or to assume perhaps a new self, a truer self, a myself, a yourself, or simply a oneself, and with a new self, a new name, a new life, a new face, now masked, now unmasked, a kind of death, and rebirth, a maybe, maybe not, a yes, or no … or perhaps it’s none of that at all, but only … a random … creative … impulse … as if in prayer … as if in prayer, to nothingness, and to no one … to no one … great … self …
And let me call myself here, then, as if at random, on this website, and in these, my own words: Bede Nix.
(A prayer to nothingness).
And I have attempted to take here the human comedy quite seriously, even so, and to strike my attitudes solemnly, as if ringing the temple bells – and even as still I cannot help but to smile, and to laugh, to smile, and to laugh, so … (openly) … (and) … (open heartedly) … (and) … (hopefully) … (opening) … (and) … (opening up) … (rising up) … (liberated) … (freed) … (joyful) … (our great human spirit) … (and energy) … (our shared inspiration) … (in our community of minds) … (mindfully) … (meeting) …

And who am I, then?
(Who knows?)

I’ll tell you this.

I am someone who devotes time, when time there is, to wondering about the world, in words. I try to take note of what I see and of what I hear and of what I taste and sense and feel, and of what I think about all this, by way of reaction. I try, too, to take note of what I have come to know and of what I have yet to learn. I write out these notes in words, in notebooks. And then I read these notebooks almost as musical notation, listening for the harmony. And I try to make some sense of my notes; I try to make some sense of my written‑out world. I try to work things out. Sometimes I perhaps succeed. But often, perhaps mostly, I …

( … )

And … well … still … still, I am … always moving … into a deeper, and deeper, stillness … a great stillness …
(In gratitude).
And yes, I am. Still. Moving. Fluid, as water. Well.

And well, who, then? What?

Let’s listen …

Slow reader, dull thinker, impoverished tinkerer, with words, and texts.
Would be (self) editor, and amateur linguist, perhaps.
Poor philosopher, and mud-eared musician.
Painter in words, in a way – word painter – and accidental poet.
And so yes, also, why not, a writer, quite simply; a writer of a few words, that’s all; and a writer of a few words, quite simply, that’s all, and from time, to time, at least, some of these words, set down, as here, while many others, set aside, or simply discarded.
Insatiably curious, that’s clear.
And very pleased to meet you, fellow human (being), for:


In a spirit of confidence, trust, good faith, let’s let go. Let’s be open, free. Let’s lose ourselves a bit (as if in love). / For when you need something, there it is; and when you look for something, you find it; and when you look for this or that person, some / one / special, they find you, or you find them, if not immediately, at once, then soon. / For wherever you go, there you are, always present, saying: / Be Here Now. / And so if I, passing, meet you, and desire to speak, then why should I not speak to you? And you to me. For you are the riddle of another world, infinitely fascinating, calling out for a deeper understanding, some sense of communion in a shared humanity, a sound in search of echo, a call that seeks response, a question, and sometimes, perhaps, an answer. Let’s both then pause and, if only for a moment, wonder about the world, together. Tell me, where do you call home? From where have you come? Where, your roots? And what your point of view? In any case, you have surely travelled far to be here now. So what now? What next? And to where? Or are you perhaps one who prefers not to know your destination, simply enjoying the sensation of being a little lost, a little adrift, afloat upon the dancing river of life … knowing that this great life energy, great life spirit, seeks not to restrain us, in any way, but lifts us up, rather, stage by stage, to wider and more open spaces … open spaces, and warm, open, faces … and faces, and faces, and faces, and so many faces, so many, many faces, and faces, facing it, and just facing it, just facing it, faces, facing, such beauty, in motion, emotion, and the motion of movement itself, moving time, flowing time, a mystery, and travelling always towards the over there, the beyond, and beyond even the I, and the You, and the That, towards a kind of ecstasy, an o, an om, a ho, a hum, a hymn, a huh, a why, a who. / (Your smile brings joy) / Asking: what is your name? Who are you? / And who am I, for that matter? Who am I, to you? / (Am I only one, or one of many, perhaps, or no one?). / Of course, the thing is not so much what we call each other, or the fact that we may be mistaken and getting our names quite wrong, like calling a wrong number … no; the important thing … well … who really knows? … who really knows … the one mind … with an attitude of humility, even reverence … standing under … and perhaps also understanding … sometimes … a little … if only a little … in confidence, trust, good faith … so as to drop the reins completely … to let go … and, letting go … letting it all go … to be open, free … and to lose ourselves once again, a bit, and then again, still more (as if in love) … so do let’s smile, say hello, establish contact, make a call, write a letter, be in touch … for in this way, we’ll share perhaps a word, and perhaps a world … / And I am glad that now our paths have crossed, for here is where we meet. / This day, this journey; paths crossed, stories shared: a time to keep silence, yes, but also a time to talk, break bread, sip tea; a time to sit still, for a while, to rest, to relax, and a time to move on. / It’s been a great pleasure to meet you and to speak with you this day, to share stories and journeys. / (Thank you). / May you know great happiness, in love, and gratitude. / And, until next time, same place, or some place other, like a wayfaring stranger, a wise traveller, walking always in confidence, trust, good faith, and, whether in company, or seemingly, alone: bon voyage, my friend; fare well.