“I came here with the last wave of refugees, expecting a hell. It sure is hot here, but there’s some tranquil comfort in observing those slag harvesting monstrosities minding their business, harming no one. It’s unbelievable that such horror would have no intention of killing unless disturbed, or provoked.”
~ Dejvjiri, The Igniter
Sometimes I struggle to understand why am I trying to write so hard, why am I thinking about things. It becomes especially hard after hearing “too much thinking is bad and useless” from someone. (Which I heard recently and worst of all, it mad think even more! Like – Why the hell did he need to say that?) I always start to doubt myself and I somehow fall into judging myself based on someone else’s opinion.
But too much of anything is bad, right? Even too much love will kill you (as sung by Queen). So if one of the greatest things, if not the greatest of them all, known to mankind can kill us, if we are exposed to too much of it, it’s easy to imagine how dangerous all the shit that we consume, or are exposed to, must be. So yes, I totally understand that if I would start paying too much attention to things that don’t matter I will eventually not be able to focus on what does. But I guess this is how I am. A thinker. I just think. It’s difficult not to think for me. Not impossible, not that I could not do it, not unimaginable, it’s just difficult. And I am still only waiting to experience the divine state of mind when nothing exists within it, only silence, peace and love (to me that can only exist after death.) But it seems that even those who can reach this state are capable of staying at peace with their minds only temporarily.
My mind is a playground, war zone, school, library, zoo, hospital, graveyard, church. A hiding place. It’s where I am becoming me, it’s where the roots of my self are holding onto darkest depth of my sou(i)l, it’s where I decide what I do. It’s where I find peace. But sometimes there just is no peace. Sometimes it feels like a mine field full of beautiful flowers, whispering silently “pick one if you dare…” But that’s ok.
It’s becoming clear to me that if this is what I am, if this is inseparable part of me, I cannot ignore it, or worse, try to change it, get rid of it, just because someone said something. Imagine if someone said to the nightingale “You sing too much. Too much singing is bad for you. What you even accomplish by so much singing? Nothing. It’s useless. Just stop it. Stop it right now.”
Not everything we do, we do in order to accomplish something. Sometimes we just are who we are and it’s then when we create, communicate, connect at our best. Right now I am not writing what I write, because I want to achieve something. I write, most of the time, because I feel like it. It’s like singing in the shower, apart from this being transferable into the blog post, which I can share if I want to. I can’t imagine someone’s singing in the shower becoming a massive hit on internet and so I am not expecting this jabber of mine becoming hit either, but there is magic in sharing certain intimate details of one’s life with the world. Sharing who one is. I’m really interested in knowing people who know true me. I don’t mean the most intimate things, we just cannot share everything, some things are to only be savored by the chosen ones.
There’s nothing wrong with letting others know that “I sing in the shower.”, “I write poetry.”, “I go to the near forest once in a month and make tea and coffee for others.”, or even things like “Sometimes I walk naked in the house all day”, or “I’m peeing in the shower” can be wonderful to share. They sound like they should breach some silent covenant what is acceptable and what is not, but there’s no covenant to breach. We are who we are, whether we try to hide it, or not. Just because the world “doesn’t need to know” about these things, doesn’t mean you cannot share them (if you want, if you feel like it). They don’t add “value” to how we live, they probably don’t make the world’s problems disappear, but what they do is, they are creating a bridge between us, they open us to each other and they create opportunities to understand we might not be that different from each other. I think that’s enough to stop being afraid who we are.
There isn’t a single person who would love everything you do, or agree with everything you say, think, believe in. But this diversity is the beauty and the essence of life. So please, be who you are. That’s how you will fulfill the purpose of being here. I am sure no one would end up being completely unlovable for being who he is. It must be difficult to be loved for what one isn’t anyway. So let’s be who we are.