Left work without bringing a book along, so naturally, I’m panicking (right now). The best thing that has helped me through the past 9 months, apart from the always-important conversations and support from friends, is buying and reading books. Many Murakamis, random fiction and non-fiction books, and online articles; these have helped me make sense and cope with the realities of life. Findings and realisations about many issues, especially with regard to personal expectations are suddenly making sense (either ‘more’ or ‘less’ of them) to me.
Have you taken time to watch a person? In his waking hour, his conscious hours, his sleeping moments? Have you taken time to watch yourself act your thoughts out? Have you taken time to speak at least once a day of the exact thoughts in your head instead of mincing words?
Have you observed yourself? Your pride and fragility examined at once? Your words echoing at the back of your head? At how others’ sound to you? Your eyebrows extending to your chin, to your collarbones, to your shoulder, your belly button, your thighs, your ankles, your toes? Have you noticed?
Your insecurity is working, you take side glances now and then because you don’t want to be precise; you don’t want to scrutinise yourself at a micro level. You don’t find a need to. You have long accepted that this is how you look like at present. There’s no urgent need to change anything even at neurological level.
You are right. What do these atoms know? Do they know what or how they operate? Do they fathom changes, or significance (and the lack of it) on a daily basis? What is a hand? A five-fingered apparition put together by groups of muscles and nerves. Sometimes they play the piano, and sometimes they hold out toilet papers for you. Sometimes they shield you from a potential act of aggression. You have no control of them. I can assure you this because my brain is forming words but my fingers work autonomously. They sometimes write words I haven’t read enough to affirm rationality; at present.
If the highest anatomy of oneself is the brain – The Central Site for Decision-Making, the mind -, then even that is beyond our control. I looked at something and decided that it was undesirable. I looked at it that way for 20 years, and one fine day it seemed, somehow, desirable. It never occured to me, through experience or less, that it could ever be desirable. Then a neuron lapsed, and a lifelong habit found its way into building a home in the future of my body.
We fall in love for no reason at all. I was looking forward to Chapter 5 of a book which promised to discuss and scrutinise the various consolations for a broken heart. It turned out to be the shortest chapter in the book; my friends were counting on it to salvage some lost parts of themselves (memories, identities, faith, choices, habits, etc,). So many things fall under the purview of love. A random person, a chance in a million, a defiance against one’s experiences and intuition, a sound faith in the future – no one falls in love while on drugs or in giving way to temptation.
There is a place in life for love. Many, many places in life for love. Your black holes, your bleak future, your undying need for affirmation from the past. Your career, your priorities, your physical well-being, your temperament, her temperament, your expectations, your genuine concern, your time, her time, your financial stability, her financial stability, your expectations versus hers.
To go deep down and sink means also to survive long enough to float upwards. To be in a dark place, terrified would also mean to one day be in an illuminated space, loved. To want to feel better after being so low in the abyss is silly – no great effort should be put unnecessarily into something so abhorring, so undesirable a condition, for the one reason that as long as you manage to survive, you will rise above all your fears (at the triumph of being a more wholesome, got-it-together person).
An easier way might be to embrace the deep, dark place you’ve found yourself in at the moment, and let yourself be. You might float or sink, but you’re contented.
Seneca had once preached for us to neither desire nor fear losing or gaining anything. Placate yourself, and convince yourself even more, that nothing gained is ever truly lost, as long as you neither claim credit and success for anything to the point where they might seem potentially indispensable to you.
Making meanings and memories might matter more. Making connections and bringing yourself, inwardly, towards the ultimate truth:
No wonder my mom had always talked about inadequacy, of not being good or enough about.
It is true.