When I met Dominique, and this method of the circles, which he practiced, I would never have continued the sessions, if the almost absolute guarantee of his honesty had not been certified to me by one of my friends.

               The principle was already not very clear to me.

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I had looked at the various explanations given on the net, but I admit that it left me a little perplexed.

 

               Why, and how would a rehabilitation method by correcting my vision help me get better?

 

               I was not convinced, if not at all.

                However, my friend, who herself had tried the method, had described to me all the improvements in her behavior, results which had seemed rather promising to me for my case, I who felt so little in control, nor of my emotions, neither of my thoughts, nor even of many of my acts.

 

                 So why not try?

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Since the age of fifteen I had been looking for a solution to this persistent malaise, and I believe that I have tried so many things that I could write a novel about it.

 

                  In fact, I'm a bit like a construction site. Never finished! Still under construction!

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When I looked into this strange device that reminded me of a pinball machine wrapped in a black sheet, lights off, the balls were flipping in every corner.

                 It was mind-blowing.

 

I asked myself a thousand questions.

Why were these balls moving like this in all directions? Did I have a real sight problem? Was the machine rigged? Why after each session did my brain also go into a spin at the four corners of my thirty-six candles? Who manipulated my being in this way? Why in the middle of the circles, like bewitched balls, did the letters dance like snakes under the spell of a flute of ink?

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Where did those eyes come from that stared at me? 

A tall black figure often came to greet me.

                  I was afraid to give up my soul to him. 

I was so afraid of them sometimes that I felt like I was in real danger.

                    But what danger?

Dominique was calm and caring, reassuring. 

Why such dread?

 

                     When I got home, my anxiety was so present that it seemed to me that it was she who wanted me to stop. "STOP!" she told me. "You're going crazy! WARNING! DANGER!"

I had experienced the same thing in my multiple psychotherapies. My whole being forbade me to continue.

STOPPED! Stop before you die! Die of what? 

To watch colorful circles laugh at me?

Die of all these fears dressed in lies!

 

                      I started resenting them for those little circles.

After realizing that the machine was not rigged, that my eyes were neither myopic nor tired, I wondered by what sleight of hand the small circles which were well drawn, in the desired number, suddenly played the dirty trick either to disappear, or to multiply, or to run in all directions like unruly pupils that nothing manages to calm down.

 

                     I've always had trouble imposing myself! 

It easily climbs on my head. 

I can't say no. 

Nor set my limits to anyone.

 

                      Everyone called me nice. Too kind!

I was just unable to express any resistance to anyone.

 

I suffered so many rapes that I cannot say the exact number. Consensual rapes, without desire, just because saying no was not programmed into my duties.

 

                       My whole being escaped me, like a raft pushed by the terrible waves of a raging sea. No anchor. No veil. Just the waves of a force so violent that they dragged me from madness to madness. 

So taming these little circles, seeing them, session after session, resolving to respect order and stability under my more and more assertive gaze, gives me so much satisfaction, that for me, it is there, the finest revenge.

 

Sailors brave the sea, are stronger than the waves, when they do not perish there.

Me, more modestly, of course, but all the same with the same feeling of having won, I delight more and more in my victories over them.

 

No more fooling around, little circles!

You will stay very wisely in line, two by two! Attention! Let not one of you move! No but! Who orders here?

YOU? Or me?

 

Yes! Take back orders! No more autopilot! No more non-mastery!

 

All my life I've weathered the storms from defeat to defeat. My brain was no more stupid than today.

Just unable to derive any benefit, no lesson from the passage of time.

Quite the contrary! Even the largest and most beautiful ship, if its rudder is twisted, avoids drifting.

 

              I always believed that one day finally I will be. 

 

              As if faith in this evidence had never left me.

I had always believed that I would finally be white. I felt so dark deep inside me. In appearance, sometimes, I managed to deceive the eyes which only saw me from the outside, the whiteness that I displayed, most often only for a while.

 

Black was my soul, as if the light could not illuminate my mind. 

Black with mourning for the one I could be, buried even before I was born.

Black like my clothes, like my ideas, like the interior of this tower from which I could not escape.

Black as the death that terrified me.

Black as death, which  alone could pull me out of the darkness of this hell.

Black as are the bad, the wicked, the culprits, all carpeted under their darkness.

 

I was waiting for the light.

I was expecting the white.

 

All my life, I dreamed of this metamorphosis.

 

Blanche, that was what living was for me.

 

It was the little circles that taught me a lesson.

 

Life is this rainbow that has come to open in my heart.

 

The white and the black were just my ghost, born from all these lies.

 

Red is this love, which in my veins awakens my old body, which flows like the sap of a tree, and gives it back the promised flowers of its spring.

 

Yellow is light, what seed resists it and does not germinate to rise to the sun?

 

Green like the ocean, with waves without foam, mountains and plains, endlessly offering me eternity.

 

Violet, with a knowing wink, keeps its touch of madness, for fear of becoming too wise.

 

Orange and pink, brown, and even gray, all in love with this irresistible desire for life.

 

And then the blue! 

               The blue that I wanted so much to keep for the end.

                          A blue ending. 

 

               No more fear of wolves, no more bruising! 

               The blue of the end is the end of the storms.

 

It's when the sky and the sea finally make peace, when suddenly we can't remember what the bad weather was like. No matter how much we open our eyes, we no longer recognize the turmoil in which we were however plunged.

 

It's very calm, peaceful, a gentle roll rocks me with these dreams wide open to this new world.

 

                   Finally, I like these circles,                          

                                               they taught me about life!