I could write forever about nothing.
First time readers should refer to my first entry re writing style etc. before diving in. My ramblings are not for everyone.
If I was to pen every notation subconsciously created I assume I would never stop. It is inconceivably relentless. I am yet to suffer from writers block in the true sense that I find I have nothing to say… I could go on forever with these endless ramblings. However I rarely seem able to “pick a topic” and write about it. At least not consciously. There are always tangents, crevasses to become entrapped in. Even now thoughts poor endlessly out of my mind essentially about nothing, creating elaborate sentences all striving to convey the ironic punchline of the struggle to pick a focal point inside my skull.
And so here is the latest from the recesses of my mind. Originally to no one in particular and yet now poignantly only for you. Although I may lean towards condescending tonality please be assured that this was never my intent. I hope you will sit with this and I hope you allow yourself to feel the emotions and observe the thoughts that rise and just be. Why does it make you feel this way? Or any way? This isn’t about you. This is my journey. And yet you will take or reject from it what you will. As will I. Take it for what it is in this moment, pure expression. Without the influence of a lifetimes emotions, shared experiences of highs and lows and in turn different perceptions of each. Without preconceptions of how you “should” feel or view things and decide for yourself.
I hope that you will realise that this is what matters to ME. These moments. Not anything else. Not our so called flaws or our endearing personas, our synthetic jobs or our manufactured beliefs we are so attached to. These moments. They’re my entire journey and who I am and what made me and is constantly making me the person that I am today. No matter what I believe experiences are still going to happen to me. And yet so often we shun them for fear of perceived discomfort.
I have come to terms with the fact that some things will frustrate me eternally. How can things seem so simple to me, yet so convoluted to others and vice versa. The truth that I can only ever see the world around me according to my own reality is what frustrates me. Is this is all one can ever really know? Is true empathy attainable?
I cannot seem to care about the illusion of prestige or money as much as I am told I should. I know it’s important because of our society’s construct, but I simply cannot bring myself to value it over day to day happiness. I think that many people trade their quality daily life, of inner peace and fulfillment for a payslip and the assumed surety of life it provides you with. Consciously choosing, or gradually lulled into living purely for currency. And for some reason unbeknownst to me I have never wanted to do this. And yet here I find myself… doing just that. Time to change lanes.
“We used to look up at the sky and wonder at our place in the stars, now we just look down and worry about our place in the dirt” Interstellar.
It seems to me that society at large has chosen to live in a state of ignorance and this general lack of education coupled with indignant expression of opinion, so many rooftops to shout from without any real repercussions, has created a culture of loud mouthed rednecks for the most part. Rather than measurable action or education we choose to update statuses or change profile pictures. Veterans die, we do some push-ups to show we are socially conscious and for the most part continue to live as if nothing has occurred. Individuals continuously take offence at things such as these words which have nothing to do with us. Someone’s expression of thought is not an invitation to enter into debate. Despite how entitled we may feel. We live in an entire world of one sided conversations between un-empathetic narcissists.
And here I am just as guilty as you. This is what frustrates me. For example, I still feel self-conscious to share environmental news articles with people I know… Why should I assume that people want to hear what I have to say? Read what I have thought? Why do I feel that what I’m writing in this moment is worth someone’s time and more importantly conscious thought after the fact? For isn’t this why I strive for wit, for eloquence, for perfection of paraphrase. To invoke thought? Isn’t that what we all strive for, to not be forgotten?
We’ve become so starved for time and attention that we watch clips, not films, read excerpts, not books. Take quotations completely out of context and make irreversible flash judgments based on minimal information. I’m all for hacking our time but surely it must be done with the truest form of awareness; that we don’t know what we don’t know. Discrediting a source for a difference of opinion seems entirely absurd but yet we so often do exactly this and in turn negate all the positives we may have gleaned. It’s OK to disagree. It’s OK to debate. In fact it is vital. Without such discussion there would be no progress, yet in our time disagreement is now an argument. Debate has become a vicious dispute, a barrage of opinion. Only truly satisfied when we have won or forced conformity. The opposite of acknowledgment and support. Rebuttal and arrogance.
I think one of the greatest gifts you can allow yourself is an open mind. To not just allow other people to have their opinions, but to understand them. Who knows, you might actually learn something. What we don’t know we simply don’t know. Stop out-thinking yourself. We’re rarely as clever as we perceive ourselves to be. A lesson by now I thought we would have learned.