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“People don’t want their lives fixed. Nobody wants their problems solved. Their dramas. Their distractions. Their stories resolved. Their messes cleaned up. Because what would they have left? Just the big scary unknown.” – Chuck Palahniuk
…. says it all.
for now.
Is it honorable to feel pain?
I know, big question for an opening.
Somehow, though, I don’t feel like the preamble..
Not now, not tonight.
Is there a reward for coming home to an empty flat?
Sitting. Hurting. Calling no one, escaping nowhere..
no tv, no fantasy, no novel.. no sex, no drugs, no food.
Just alone. Just pain.
Is there a truth here? Is this all of us? All humanity?
Am I experiencing all it is to be truly human?
Am I really.. (you say I am).. but am I really, really, more broken than most?
Or just more aware?
or neither?
(or delusional.. or wanting..)
I find no peace here, no honesty.
No joy or salvation in the truth. Just pain.
Hence the question..
Is it honorable to feel pain?
*Socrates
Me: “Why are you making all this effort if, when it comes to it, you’re just not interested in it. It’s like forcing yourself to finish a book you don’t enjoy – where’s the value?”
Friend: “That’s it though, isn’t it? You’ve got to sacrifice the short term in order to secure longer term happiness”
Me: “..but what happens if you continue to do that?”
Friend: “You’ll be very happy in the perpetual tomorrow.. ..Oh.”
So I have a confession to make.
As I mentioned, I have recently moved house and during the process of boxing up my material goods I threw away:
6 black sacks of clothes
2 black sacks of shoes
1 black sack of coats
1 black sack of bags
4 black sacks of paper
2 black sacks of generic junk
That’s 16 black sacks, at 70 litres each, 1120 litres or
40 cubic feet’s worth of unnecessary clutter
which I did, of course, appropriately donate / recycle.
That my life had accumulated so much inconsequential junk is probably very telling a condition. It’d be difficult not to assert that we manifest outwardly only what is held within and, much like my internal state, some of what I was surrounding myself with was needless clutter, burdensome, and blatantly rubbish; some was perfectly viable gear, just not for me (“what possessed?!?” items) and some was truly a wrench to throw away.
You see, and here’s another somewhat redundant titbit, I’m a classic hoarder.
On the one hand I am somewhat of a reluctant materialist. Though I wish I could train myself into a Buddhist detachment from worldly goods I must sadly admit I am frequently motivated by money and ‘things’. To compound this, I am also hopelessly sentimental and cling on to worthless ticket stubs, notes, gifts, cards, photos and other mementoes going back years and years, all in shoe boxes. I revisit them regularly, scared incase I forget why I am keeping them.
But much like my childhood, where my better memories are of re-watching my youngest years captured on home movies rather than any recollection of the experiences themselves; I fear I, at times, imprint the memento, video or photograph over the feeling of actually living. So that when I come to think of the first moment I saw the dust, flame red, over New Delhi at dawn, I see the photograph I took to capture it. I have to mentally struggle to see past the frame of the photograph.
..Mementoes of friendships that didn’t survive past graduation, cards from beloved relatives who have long died, that broken necklace I meant to fix, the knitting I started and swore I could finish, the beautiful lamp I picked up in Chiang Mai night market but never changed the plug on.. all gone. The memory of each? Making me smile as I type.
And should I forget the memory of picking through the sand of the Sardinian coast now I have thrown away the shells I brought back, tucked into her empty cigarette packet? If I forget the smell of her tobacco and the sea?
That is the nature of progress. We’ll all fade out of memory someday. In trying to hold on to the past we forget the present, we forget to look outside the frame of this moment’s photograph. In forgetting to live now for the people among us we resign ourselves to a lifetime of memories, those we held on to too tightly and the memories of the people we overlooked and lost in doing so.
So if you see me pocketing that theatre ticket? Hiding behind a video camera?
Remind me..
40 cubic feet says I ought to be happier to forget.
“There is a magic in that little world, home; it is a mystic circle that surrounds comforts and virtues never known beyond its hallowed limits” – Robert Southey
I spent last week, *all* of last week, moving out of my apartment of ~3 years to became temporarily homeless pending permanent digs 350 miles away, in London.
Let it be said from the outset, I despise moving house; having done it with enough frequency to be permitted to comment.
As if it wasn’t enough to contend with the logistical and practical pain-in-the-arsery of collecting boxes, cleaning and wrapping everything you own, not having access to half the things you love because you packed them already or worrying they’ll get damaged, or even the damnable “who owns what” of it all..
As if that wasn’t enough, there’s then the emotional wrench of tearing up carefully laid roots. Deceptive, like re-potting an established flower, it is not so much the roots you can see being torn from the earth that you need worry about, gory although it is. It is the tiny, fragile hairs that you don’t see being damaged, about which you should be concerned.
Yes, yes, protestations aside, it isn’t the obvious physical trauma of moving that I hate insofar as it is the quiet discomfort of having nowhere to belong. The screaming dissonance of having de-coupled oneself from a deep, ineradicable sense of “home”.
The place where my things are, the place I feel safe, I feel comforted and where there are no expectations or requirements upon me, is no more.
For me, knowing I have a secure base is the thing that allows me to go headfirst into situations which inspire insecurity. I absolutely require a physical space where I can lock out the rest of the world. Somewhere peaceful, safe, and mine. Long term, of course, I would rather these things divorced from the physical and I have spoken at length regarding my efforts towards cultivating a sanctuary of inner space to depend upon. But until this time, I’m something of a girl adrift.
So what of “now” ? Well, I seem to be finding my sanctuary by associating only with other lost souls. The flotsam and jetsam of this world. For those who were cast out, and those who cast themselves out, have a way of finding one another.
But it is an interesting predicament, something of a territorial instinct, that without a few square metres of this strange planet to defend and call our own we cannot, really, venture forth.
“Don’t you realize that the sea is the home of water? All water is off on a journey unless it’s in the sea, and it’s homesick, and bound to make its way home someday”
– Zora Neale Hurston
“My first act of free will shall be to believe in free will.” – William James
I have been considering the concept that part and parcel of my efforts to become a free agent and evaluate decisions on appropriately selfish metrics, is the ability to wilfully make wrong choices and bad compromises as long as I learn from the experience.
In my latest example, I allowed myself to be emotionally manipulated into acting under the impetus to “avoid guilt” (in a negative move away from pain rather than a positive move towards pleasure.)
I was asked to do a favor, which I refused. A sensible decision based on my workload, state of mental & physical wellbeing and my assessment of mine, and others, potential gain/loss from my participation. I was, however, co-erced into retracting my refusal despite my numerous protests in an act it would be only marginally exaggerating to call emotional blackmail. I don’t feel great about myself or the other party as a result of this. (To put it mildly.)
What I have learned, however, has shattered my ego somewhat; as I see with disarming clarity the number of times people have shelved their sense of self, their personal needs and desires, in order to support, appease or placate me. For this I am, of course, immeasurably grateful. Conversely, I can also see the number of occasions people have, steadfast in the face of my blazing need & a choice selection of tricks from every 25yr old female’s arsenal, simply refused to pause their lives for me.
I have significantly more respect for the latter.
I wish I could have been more gracious, less petulant, in the face of their instinct for self preservation. But, blinded by the unwavering egotism that comes with distress, I saw only an abandonment of me (and therefore a lack of love, care and protection) rather than an instinct towards their own personal requirement and situation (and, perhaps, a knowing and trust that not only would I be ok by myself, but that the act of being denied the escape route and my subsequent ‘survival’ might actually teach me something.)
With hindsight I’d like to thank each of you who denied me, whilst apologising in advance to those upon whom I will inflict the temporary pain of passing on this lesson in person.
This morning I wrote a post over at my ‘work blog’ on the perceptions we have of our selves, skills and roles and the huge impact these have on the wider world; specifically via the manner in which we accordingly interact (or don’t interact) with opportunities in life. All this, of course, got me thinking about the manner in which I go about (re)defining myself.
Thoughts, it turns out, that were to continue as I then met up with a friend of a friend with whom i’d been trying to arrange a meeting for some time, a particularly inspiring yet disillusioned gentleman, we spent all afternoon discussing how divorced the Human condition has become from nature, and how a holistic approach rooted in self understanding and worth is required even to begin to improve this. At this point I couldn’t help but be reminded of a line in the poem “Our Greatest Fear” by Marianne Williamson
“Your playing small does not serve the world.”
I then saw this on Twitter and couldn’t help but love the headline..
Save the Planet? We don’t even know how to take care of ourselves; we haven’t learned how to care for one another… We’re going to save the F*ckin’ Planet?
..which, though humorous and flippant in style, only stood to further reinforce these ideas solidifying in my mind.
All of this today, harshly juxtaposed with a very quiet evening alone, is culminating in an increasingly strong realisation that my initial responsibility to the wider world is to become “okay”. Not amazing. Not great. Not, as some have already said, “formidable”, “inspiring” or any of these flattering and memorable praises. Seemingly counterintuitive, perhaps, in the face of my arguments towards building greater self worth in order to ‘serve the world’ but these statements, pleasing though they are, are meaningless as they were directed not to the ‘genuine me’ but to my ‘presented self’ while there is currently an altogether too vast distinction between those things. So to become ‘okay’ simply as me should be my first step. To not require a ‘presented self’, but simply to ‘present myself‘ because, to borrow another couplet from Marianne Williamson
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”
Today was a timely and necessary illustration towards the concept of ‘living in the moment’. I could not in a million years have predicted the ebb and flow of the day and I wouldn’t have survived any attempt to foresee, halt or change the course of events that occured.
What pleases me most, I think, and on a day where it almost seems cruel to be pleased at all such is the havoc I have left in my wake (*note to butterflies everywhere, don’t carelessly flap your wings) is that I didn’t hold back and I acted on two distinct impulses. Both unexpected, both of which felt right, both were fraught with barriers (fear, insecurity, path of least resistance) and accordingly, both of which I could easily have over-analysed into inaction. Similarly, I didn’t act on another impulse, which if I am honest felt instinctively wrong, but I desperately wanted and could easily have rationalised as right.
I made choices.
I feel like I made the right choices.
I survived the day.
Yet I am in vast amounts of pain and have caused Tornados in Texas
So I can’t help but wonder how to reconcile my desperate need for independence and completeness of self, with an awareness and care for everyone and everything else. If I act solely in my own self interest for a short while as I am going to need to do (because, surely, if anything has been learnt to date it is that the chasm created by my insecurity, faithlessness in my worth and low entire lack of self esteem, cannot be solved by my attachments to drugs or food or, more importantly, to people.) Then, in this instance, what is my responsibility and rational for the pain my personal growth causes others?
But i guess i already answered my own question.
I mustn’t carelessly flap my wings. Or to rephrase. Be far more mindful of causing unecessary harm.
I have recently created a physical space for myself that is new, challenging, frequently frightening and within which I have worked hard to begin the difficult process of eliminating my reliance on safety nets and comfort blankets.
Yet, as I continue (begin?) to figure out who I am, what I am doing, what I want to do and how I can be of use in this world, I continue to post here under an anonymous blog.
Next step.
Have the faith in myself, and those around me, to be able share this blog and thus to admit to:
Who I have been*
(frequently false, scared, confused, angry, lost, thoughtless or selfish)
Who I am*
(learning, growing, healing, listening, reclaiming responsibility and becoming independent)
Who I aspire to be*
(beneficial, oriented, honest, open and accepting, clear, calm, mindful and compassionate)
..and in admitting it, finally begin to reconcile the words I write in cyberspace with the words I speak, and the actions I take in my life on this planet.
* I have always, and will continue always, to love. Love completely. Love fearlessly. Love unwaveringly and Love without reason, expectation, analysis or question.
In fact, that’s the first thing I can add to my bio.
“I Love”
Be gentle first with yourself – if you wish to be gentle with others.
– Lama Yeshe
Feeling like the last 24 hours were an exercise in mercilessness: throwing myself in at the deep end of a series of pools of unknown magnitude. The good news is I realised that I could still swim. However, I could probably have found that same information out by simply climbing into the pool down the steps.
And though I think it was an interesting and worthwhile (if not, indeed, vital) exercise, from tomorrow I’ll be looking for middle ground. Which is tough as I have never yet felt comfortable within the grey scale.
So I have been mulling over the concept of neither wanting and pursuing everything my heart desires until I get it and more, nor restricting, shutting down, closing off and stepping away entirely but rather accepting with grace what is given and is available..
My conclusion?
I should tread more softly and allow myself more time, as anything I construct this quickly will fall just as fast. I have years to build a foundation strong enough to sustain all that I can be and I owe this time to myself. I am my own worst enemy. Constantly pushing. Never good enough. Expectations which, in the rare case they are not altogether unachievable, are certainly unsustainable.
And what hypocrisy as I urge and advise you of your beauty and accept you as a whole. Those things you regard as flaws sitting as neatly in my idea of you as those things you pride yourself upon. No value attribution. Just you.
…and now, to find ‘just me’.
But for now we see through a glass, darkly ... 